Sylvia's Journal

We are guests in our own house – unpacking our stuff in the room that used to be first Sita’s and then Tessa’s room, now transformed into a guestroom with muted colors, more respectable than the flaming purple that teenager Sita insisted on. We have all changed since then. Now Tessa is the house mother (‘take off your shoes!’) and we simply transients in our own house. A strange experience, although not as strange as Dubai.

We met Robin in the Dubai airport lounge, also on her way home. It is strange enough that Robin is also from Manchester and also works in Kabul, even more amazing that we run into each other, amidst those thousands and thousands of travellers, from everywhere, going to everywhere.

I have all these upgrade coupons from Delta, a thank you for frequent travel. But despite having the right fare and the B-class not being full, I couldn’t make the hoped for upgrade come through. It seems that no one can make the decision and everyone felt compelled to refer me to everyone else. I was too tired to get too worked up about it but Axel wrote several complaints letter to customer (non) service in his head.

Tessa and Steve picked us up. It is the same kind of weather we had in Holland a month ago: cold, rainy, only the wind missing, at least for now. But everything is so very green, and there is no dust. There are still asparagus poking their heads through the soil, the raspberries will be plentiful, right after we leave I am afraid. The carrots, lettuce, radishes are growing according to plan in a meticulously arranged garden, a planned meticulousness that comes from Axel, not me.

Tessa ordered a pizza (with extra pork sausage for Axel) and made the kind of salad that’s hard to get in Kabul while we walked the estate and admired the wetness, the greenness and the wonderful smells of a New England spring.