Sylvia's Journal

While we were in Dubai the spa where I used to go for my weekly massage folded. The masseuses now work out of Lisa’s place which I finally got to see.

In order to get there I had to drive through a part of town that I thought was off limits, in back of the US embassy terrain and in front of something else that is hidden behind enormous blast walls. The alleys between the blast walls are empty except for heavily armed soldiers, many American and a few intrepid Afghans who were trying to sell scarves to a female soldier.

We finally found the place, a small three room house that opens directly onto the street. Lisa stuck her head around the heavy metal door and invited me in while the driver and guard waited around to make sure I was in an OK place. When I gave them the thumbs up they left.

The first room in the house is the main office of a logistics and construction firm, as evidenced by the pictures of various logistics activities: stuff being loaded on pallets onto or off a plane, trucks taking supplies someplace, a forklift, armored vehicles, etc.

I learned that the company has a contract with the European police force to provide armored vehicles. This is where money is being made from all this warmongering. A slick brochure on the table shows various kinds of armored and military vehicles appropriate for places like Afghanistan – it is much like a brochure for luxury cars, no prices. I was introduced to Lisa’s business partner, an Afghan, the one whose name appears on the firm’s business card.

The debris of the failed spa are being absorbed by the company. And so now the office also hosts a good number of spa items (towels, robes, creams, a facial machine, pedicure and manicure equipment). All this, including a massage table that can be curtained off with pieces of cloth, is squeezed in between the desk and the door to the kitchen. It is an odd combination of a very male and very female business, all jumbled together.

If I wanted to I could buy US army backpack (camouflage model), a matching helmet and flak jacket, various types of cellphone holsters (black leather or camouflage cloth), chargers but also Cuban cigars (50% off this month), semi-precious stones, jewelry and probably more.

A plaque on the wall congratulates Jose (husband? Other business partner?) with two years of faithful service to the Afghanistan program of a large supplier to the US army (food stuffs). So maybe, after all, hubby Joe is not with the CIA. He is in Iraq, I am told; maybe feeding the army there, earning another plaque.

The next room is the kitchen, about the same size as the office with a big table in the middle that also serves as a hairdresser’s desk and a place for a manicure. Two enormous cans that can feed an army unit are sitting on a cupboard: vanilla pudding in one and mixed vegetables in the other. A wholesale box of Starbucks coffee is stored on top of the refrigerator and the rest of the kitchen is a jumble of heaters, water coolers, air purifiers and air humidifiers, plus a few odds and ends.

The next space is for storage and has a small bathroom on the side; after that is a small bedroom, dominated by an enormous bed, a safe (money is being made and banks not to be trusted?) and more curtained storage space, clothes hanging from the exposed I-beams, tennis rackets and a thousand other odds and ends. A massage table was set up for me in this place. It was toasty warm because of the space heaters.

This is the temporary spa while bigger quarters are being sought. I was amazed how much spa business was taking place between the armored car, food, clothing, gem and cigar sales. There were three clients (me for a massage, a UN lady who came to celebrate her 60th with a massage, manicure, pedicure and hair coloring, and another person for a massage, two masseuses, one helper (the one who slit open Janneke’s toe some weeks ago) and the hairdresser. The chief of the logistics enterprise wandered in and out.

I was a bit chaotic and crowded but money was being made, which is, after all, the main idea.