Sylvia's Journal

The Friday routine has been slightly altered. For one the walk on the athletic field of the Habibia Highschool has become more challenging because you have to climb over the fence. Those of us not playing ultimate frisbee declined this kind of trapeze work and walked around the school on the concrete pavement. In back of the school Ankie and I would let our scarf slide off our hair; in front, where lots of high school boys were congregrated we pushed it back into place, as if those teenage boys would get excited if they saw our necks. We pitied them if they would.

After that we all piled into the car off to Chicken Street. Steve and Douglas’s view on their weekly visits is that suddenly it could all be over and Chicken Street declared off limits. For now it is OK and the barricades had multiplied since I was last there two months ago. If you want to do mischief in a car it would be nearly impossible now.

I am already being recognized by the little street urchins who know there is no use trying to sell me a dictionary since I already bought one. Ankie and I took off on our own with guard Abdullah shadowing us and carrying our purchases. I held off on purchases because I plan to make those later when really settled and needing stuff to put on the walls and floors of our new house.

We had lunch in the Herat restaurant in the center of Kabul’s Shari-Nao. There we met the Afghan youth tennis team which was celebrating their departure for Turkmenistan to play the national Turkmani team. Their male and female coach had taken them out for an ice-milk treat, a delicacy I have not tasted yet.

Some of the girls were anxious to practice their (very good) English on us and I got to practice my very limited Dari. I recorded their group photo to show that not every female in Afghanistan is covering her hair; only the female coach covered herself. A sign of the new Afghanistan rising from the ashes?

Steve and I ventured across the street to buy an ice cream which everyone else wisely avoided. For consultants to risk stomach troubles is a not a good idea. Steve and I are a little more adventuresome (or stupid if you wish).

On the way back we stopped at a kaghaz-paraan (kite) salesman who was sitting on a quiet intersection near our house. For one dollar a piece he sold simple but colorful kites to Greg and Ankie to take home. Made from tissue paper and bamboo I can’t imagine they will survive the trip back.

I have two competing invitations for tonight, one from Razia Jan where I will meet some new people, and one from Paul in guesthouse 26 for one of his periodic get togethers with members of the Belgian community. In one place they will serve beer, in the other they won’t, but I think I’ll go to Razia’s because I am interested in getting to know her circle of friends.

We have been without internet connection for nearly 24 hours now because of some significant problem with the server that only our internet provider can fix, but it is Friday and somehow they can’t fix it today. It forces me to do other things than being online all the time. A good thing except that I had hoped to talk with Axel about the new house.