Sylvia's Journal

So far it has been a quiet day in Kabul. My housemate Steve will not return until tomorrow.

I have taken advantage of the quietness to unpack and settle in. This includes retrieving stuff left behind in July and arranging things in empy closets. This is one thing of which there is plenty, especially in the unused small kitchen.

The only thing I cannot find is the bag of coffee from Ethiopia which I had hoped to use in this small stovetop espresso maker that I brought. Afghanistan is a tea drinking country. Houses and stores are therefore not well equipped for coffee.

I alternate attending to emails and doing my homework for my first Program Managers meeting on Sunday with short naps and boning up on my Dari. I have contacted both my Dari teacher and my physical therapist in the hope that I can start using their services soon.

The Internet connection is good; I am listening to NPR as if I am driving around in my car in Massachusetts.

I declined an invitation to accompany another colleague for the ritual Friday visit to Chicken Street. Usually, when on temporary duty, I did not want to miss these visits, there being only one or two chances (Fridays). But now, having plenty of such days ahead of me, I did not feel the need to walk around on a hot day, on a dusty street, and poke my nose into dusty places.

Where we are going to live, and where I am going to sit in the office, is not entirely clear yet. New spaces are being configured to accommodate staff changes and an influx of travelers over the fall. As a result, the settling in is only temporary and rather limited, for now reduced to one room until Axel arrives.

New houses are being rented and I am given first pick, with always the option of staying at my current quarters, expanded to include all three rooms on the second floor of guesthouse zero. And while Axel is busy putting our Manchester in order, I hope to be directing home improvements here as well, after selecting the nicest place to live for our year in Kabul. It’s kind of exciting all this not knowing.

The one suitcase I had some worries about, the one I paid 200 dollars for to ship along to Dubai, failed me indeed. When it did not turn up on the belt a Delta representative told me that it had opened during the journey and the police was checking it to make sure it was OK to return to me. Delta was so kind to wrap the whole thing in a large sturdy plastic bag.

At the hotel I repacked everything and gifted the suitcase to Mr. Sheen, an Indian gentleman who works in the hotel and fetched my luggage. He was quite happy with the suitcase even though I told him the locks did not work all that well (but apparently well enough for him).

I was 40 kg over the weight limit when I checked in with Safi Airways and was charged a hefty 250 dollars to transport everything to Kabul; that brings the total cost of moving my affairs to Kabul to 450 dollars. Axel was probably right that sending a shipment might have been worth it after all.

At Dubai airport I did something I have never done here before: I bought a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of gin. I expect these to last us for awhile. The Afghan customs official did not blink, if he noticed at all. I am sure they are used to foreigners bringing in alcohol.

It’s dinner time now in the guesthouse but everything across the yard in the other house is dark. It is a bit lonely as my housemate Steve is in Pakistan. It is also weekend so it’s ‘help-yourself’ dinner; I haven’t surveyed the refrigerators yet but I am sure there are some interesting leftovers.

The suitcases are unpacked and internet connection established. I am ready to tackle my first assignment: reviewing one more time the work plan for project years 4 and 5 before retiring for the night.