I’ve been in Kabul for two and a half days
now, and the jet lag is still running high. It seems that wherever I travel,
and for how long, it’s always 0330 when I wake up. I try to go back to sleep,
but usually have to get up, have a cup of tea and read a book, or just sit
quietly and think. After an hour I return to my bed, and sleep another couple
of hours before getting up to start the day.
This is the coldest winter in Kabul for the
past four years. There is snow everywhere, turning to ice
underfoot and under the pounding of traffic. My observation is that in Kabul
they use the Calgary style of snow-clearing. As those from the west know, this
consists of clearing major roads and leaving the rest of the city to wait until
the next Chinook wind blows in, bringing warm temperatures which melt the snow.
In Kabul they also leave the snow to melt, but unfortunately the only Chinooks
around here belong to the US air force and the warm winds won’t come until
March! The roads are pretty icy
and nobody has winter tires, so it becomes an interesting drive to work.
It was a long flight to get here, via
London and Istanbul, with an unexpected detour to Lahore. The airport was
closed on Monday when we arrived, the heavy snow of the previous day not yet
cleared, and so we continued over the Hindu Kush. At Lahore they wouldn’t let
us off the plane, although we were allowed to walk around the cabin while we
were parked on the ground. I have never been to Pakistan before, but I don’t
know if I can reasonably count an hour on the runway as a visit to that
country.
Once in Kabul we were too late to do much
other than to check in to our guest house. This is a long low building, two
stories, with good sized rooms. The first night was freezing cold, even with
the two space heaters going full blast, and I needed to go to bed fully
clothed. Since then the heaters haven’t been off, and the room has slowly warmed
up. There is a restaurant, although sadly the menu caters to internationals and
there is not much Afghan food. I am not too sure about prowns, or the tunna
casserole, it’s not so much the spelling as the fact that this is a land-locked
country far from the ocean. I am slowly working my way through the 15 varieties
of checken and so far have found this quite palatable.
Work has commenced. We have had the
mandatory security briefings, and had our ID cards stamped at the Foreigner
Registration Office. We spent a good part of the day with our colleagues at the
Teacher Education Directorate, reviewing our work from the fall and discussing
where we go from here.
Today we spent an hour at the Bank
unsuccessfully trying to get some changes made to the account signatures. The
manager was aghast that we didn’t have a letter from the previous signatory
accepting that he was no longer a signatory and introducing a new person to be
the signatory instead. This letter then had to be counter-signed by another
director. As one of those signatories is currently in Peru, and the other in
Ghana, getting the letter in good time is going to be an interesting challenge.
Tomorrow we are visiting the CIDA office at
the Canadian Embassy, to brief them on the project and pay a courtesy call to
the Head of Mission. Mr MacKinnon is originally from PEI, so no doubt will be
wanting all the gossip from the New Year levees! We will then return to our own
office, in the house operated by the Canadian Program Support Unit, and prepare
our materials for next week.
If you get to count Pakistan, then I get to count Newfoundland! I once spent an hour on a plane on the runway there for refueling. I have very clear pictures of the city at night as we flew in, and the lights on the water . . . but it exists in this strange nowhere-land of neither a real experience nor a fully second-hand one. So I count it as a half visit, but then have to explain that I haven't really been to Newfoundland at all.
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