Slightly jetlagged, a long but comfy flight brought me over the moon-like hills of Afghanistan, to Kabul. On my way, in Delhi, I got to meet my first Afghan acquaintance - a female doctor who was on her way back from a conference in Nepal dealing with medical abortion. How she was ever going to use the knowledge gained in Afghanistan, she did not know, but it didn't matter much since the US paid for her business class flight.
Life in Kabul sure is messy even though it is Sunday, which could be explained by the fact that Friday and Saturday comprise the Afghan weekend. Between the huge walls of the embassies and ignored traffic lights, streets are bustling with cars, animals, men, men and men. It is hard to believe the number of everyday-adventures that constantly take place outside the guarding windows of the truck we're travelling in. This is not driving, the driver tells me, this is Afghan driving.
Within this jumble, the well guarded spots where we work, eat and live become safe havens not unlike home. With the Lebanese and Chinese food from lunch and dinner comfortably in my stomach, I now lay to rest in the guesthouse where I'll be staying these first few days, perhaps weeks. A constant humming noise has followed me throughout the day, and is now to be heard from just outside the window. The sound comes from the diesel generators that provide each house with power. Diesel generators - the hummingbirds of Kabul.
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Slightly jetlagged, a long but comfy flight brought me over the moon-like hills of Afghanistan, to Kabul. On my way, in Delhi, I got to meet my first Afghan acquaintance - a female doctor who was on her way back from a conference in Nepal dealing with medical abortion. How she was ever going to use the knowledge gained in Afghanistan, she did not know, but it didn't matter much since the US paid for her business class flight.
Life in Kabul sure is messy even though it is Sunday, which could be explained by the fact that Friday and Saturday comprise the Afghan weekend. Between the huge walls of the embassies and ignored traffic lights, streets are bustling with cars, animals, men, men and men. It is hard to believe the number of everyday-adventures that constantly take place outside the guarding windows of the truck we're travelling in. This is not driving, the driver tells me, this is Afghan driving.
Within this jumble, the well guarded spots where we work, eat and live become safe havens not unlike home. With the Lebanese and Chinese food from lunch and dinner comfortably in my stomach, I now lay to rest in the guesthouse where I'll be staying these first few days, perhaps weeks. A constant humming noise has followed me throughout the day, and is now to be heard from just outside the window. The sound comes from the diesel generators that provide each house with power. Diesel generators - the hummingbirds of Kabul.
Fina bilder labu! /Lina
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