Sylvia's Journal

I am progressing, four strands at a time, with my Quaker sampler. I dream of cross-stitching at night. It is good relaxation, combined with listening to the machinations of Cleopatra and her besotted Antony in an otherwise far from relaxed place.

While I was eating my French toast this morning two rockets were fired on parts of Kabul that are far from our home. Still, they did put an end to our plan to go for a walk in Bagh-e-Bala. Too bad as it was one of those beautiful crisp winter days with the snow glittering on the, for once visible, mountains around Kabul and a sense of spring coming.

Saturday is one of my two Dari class days. I got the time wrong and ended up studying Dari for three full hours. My teacher had brought a newspaper. I read and translated two articles; one about 16 female police officers graduating in Balkh and the other about a traffic accident in Herat that included a Mazda truck (the word for truck is ‘barbari’) and a Toyata Linux and landed three people from an NGO in the international forces hospital at the airport. The exercise added to my growing vocabulary; new words that will help me understand radio and TV news as well.

My colleague AB showed up with a plastic bag holding a bottle of Russian water. This is quite extraordinary as people here rarely show up with plastic bags that contain adult beverages. As luck had it, we had just finished our Russian water yesterday and were able, once again, to enjoy a very special pre-dinner cocktail.

Axel cooked dinner (well, not really cooking but warming up in the microwave). This elicited many comments from our male Dari teachers. We are finishing the last leftovers of the feast we had on Thursday while watching the next installment of the Arabs being very cross with their leaders.