It’s been about a week since I arrived here in Afghanistan and by the time I post this it may have been two weeks. Getting into the country wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, but not without its perils. I can honestly say that the view of the country from 30,000 can be described in one word, “wasteland.”
The first base I arrived at was on an elevated alert due to some information they had received. Everyone was ordered to wear their body armor and helmets anywhere on the compound. Needless to say, the impression of my new home wasn’t great. It was hot, dusty and shortly after we got off the plane something exploded. It wasn’t an attack and since no one else seemed worried, I wasn’t either. But there I was, on an airfield in the middle of a war zone waiting for more transport to take me further into a hostile country. It was a good feeling.
I traveled in with one of the guys I was in training with. Neither of us knew what plane to get on, where that plane was, where we were going nor who to talk to about getting on a plane. Luckily a guy walked by wearing one of our shirts and, fortunately for us, knew we were coming. He drove us across to the other side where our next form of transportation was waiting… Soon we were back on the move to distant places.
When I finally reached what I like to call the “Oasis”, I was pretty pumped. New people, new experiences and good times awaited me. Again, I was fortunate enough to have a couple guys waiting on me to arrive because, again, I had no idea what to do from there. The two guys were the new site lead and his right hand man, both of which were pretty cool guys that I’ve since gotten to know pretty well.
The first day was pretty easy. More of a watch and learn kind of day than anything. I was a bit eager to get started and really felt like I knew enough to do the job right off the bat. I would come to find out that for the most part I did know nearly everything operationally and it was the unique things that I’d have to learn. The people here were all eager to teach though.
I have really come to enjoy working with these guys. They are from all backgrounds, but all share a military background. I’m probably the only guy out here who hasn’t served in some form or another. The only real reason it draws these types of people is because they know how it is out here and know what to expect. I had plenty of heads up before coming out and felt pretty secure.
This morning we were flying surveillance around a point of interest when there were very large explosions in succession. The container our control station is in shook from the blast. I got out of my seat and ran outside while at the same time a couple of our military counterparts made their way out as well. We determined that it was just controlled blasts that another unit was performing to destroy some undetonated explosives. So we weren’t being mortared like we all thought we were. But that was my first taste of the excitement I was looking for.
Other than a brief scare, everything has been pretty regular. Wake up in the morning, go work out, go eat breakfast, go to work, lunch and dinner are brought to us at the site and then go home. The job is really fun, and the people are all great. Every situation is unique, every launch and recovery has its own characteristics. Today was my first “oh shit” moment when I was bringing a bird in with a large crab angle. I called off the approach, corrected my heading and brought it in safely. But the ground crew noted my reaction when they told me the bird was on the ground… Everyone heard me say “Oh Thank God…”
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Jeff's European Adventure Part 3
Eventually I had to say good bye to my friends from the Paris H3 666 Hash. For me it was a very sad good bye since I was off to another city where I, once again, had no plans and this time truly no contacts. But that only meant more adventure and another set of friends to be made.
I arrived in Rome via RyanAir around 10PM local. I had no idea where the airport was in relation to the city and even if I did, I had no idea where in the city I was going. Somehow I made my way outside the airport and on to a bus that was headed to the main subway terminal in the heart of Rome. No idea how I knew where the bus was going, but it was a bus that was going somewhere so I got on.
Now I was in the heart of Rome, it was around midnight and I still had no idea what I was doing. There were plenty of bums around though and the city was a lot dirtier than I imagined… So keeping with my usual mode of operations I started wandering with no particular destination but determined not to sleep on the streets.
Around 3AM sleeping on the streets started to become a reality. Things weren’t going well for me at this point and I had a decision to make, sleep in a corner clutching my bag with my ninja grip or walk until sunrise and find a hostel. The decision was made to continue walking until sunrise and continue looking for a hotel in the meantime.
It was around 4AM that I saw a man in the doorway of a hotel. I walked up to the door and he opened it. I spoke what little Italian I could mutter, again from high school, and managed to talk him into allowing me to stay one night. Since I was alone he didn’t want one person taking up a double room, which made sense.
The next morning I started hunting for a new place to live. I tracked a group of English speakers, I think they were actually Canadians, to a hostel about 5 blocks from the hotel I stayed at the night before. The place was very nice compared to the other hostels I had seen and the number of people reflected that. I finally got up to the counter to find that they didn’t have any beds available at the time and directed me to another hostel down the road.
At the other hostel I managed to secure a bed but wasn’t able to go in because they were cleaning, a good sign I thought, so I left my backpack in a locked closet until the room became available. It made me a bit nervous at first but while I was waiting I got to talking to a couple of guys from South America, who were also staying and also had their things locked in the closet.
Since I was alone the guys told me I could go tour around with them. Miguel was from Buenos Aires, Argentina and Juan was from San Paulo, Brazil. Once again, I had managed to survive one night alone in a foreign city to be rewarded with some new friends for my self-induced troubles. After getting checked in we grabbed an archaic map of the city that sat at the front desk of the hostel and hit the streets.
Miguel was an economics guy who was working for a company in Argentina and it’s been so long I’ve forgotten what Juan did. Both of them were very friendly and only spoke English around me, even when speaking to each other. Unfortunately they didn’t speak Spanish, so I couldn’t even begin to understand their language if they spoke it. They even took me to Vatican City, even though they’d gone earlier in the day. We toured as much as we could before it was time to go back to the hostel to get our stuff and put it into the rooms.
My room had more cultures than the UN. There was an Aussie, who’d been on holiday for nearly 8 months, an Italian-American girl with her French boyfriend, and another lone traveler from Argentina. Carlina, the Argentine, was in Rome for a few days before going to Spain to spend the following few months with family. Since she was alone and I was hanging out with others from South America I asked her if she wanted to come around with us and she accepted. So I spent the remainder of the trip with my new group of South American friends.
Finally my time in Europe was about to come to an end. I was flying back to Frankfurt for a day, then back to the US the following day. Once again I said goodbye to my newfound friends and left behind the greatest, well, only European adventure I have had. I had lucked my way safely out of Germany, I had made my way out of Paris and Rome by making new friends and now I was back on my own for a day before getting back to the comforts of my own home.
In hindsight I’m really happy that I didn’t make any plans. I forced myself into situations where I had to meet new people and do things regular tourists don’t do. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it didn’t matter, I had to figure it out either way and making it more difficult was a good experience. Life can be easy but why make it so when it’s more fun the other way.
I arrived in Rome via RyanAir around 10PM local. I had no idea where the airport was in relation to the city and even if I did, I had no idea where in the city I was going. Somehow I made my way outside the airport and on to a bus that was headed to the main subway terminal in the heart of Rome. No idea how I knew where the bus was going, but it was a bus that was going somewhere so I got on.
Now I was in the heart of Rome, it was around midnight and I still had no idea what I was doing. There were plenty of bums around though and the city was a lot dirtier than I imagined… So keeping with my usual mode of operations I started wandering with no particular destination but determined not to sleep on the streets.
Around 3AM sleeping on the streets started to become a reality. Things weren’t going well for me at this point and I had a decision to make, sleep in a corner clutching my bag with my ninja grip or walk until sunrise and find a hostel. The decision was made to continue walking until sunrise and continue looking for a hotel in the meantime.
It was around 4AM that I saw a man in the doorway of a hotel. I walked up to the door and he opened it. I spoke what little Italian I could mutter, again from high school, and managed to talk him into allowing me to stay one night. Since I was alone he didn’t want one person taking up a double room, which made sense.
The next morning I started hunting for a new place to live. I tracked a group of English speakers, I think they were actually Canadians, to a hostel about 5 blocks from the hotel I stayed at the night before. The place was very nice compared to the other hostels I had seen and the number of people reflected that. I finally got up to the counter to find that they didn’t have any beds available at the time and directed me to another hostel down the road.
At the other hostel I managed to secure a bed but wasn’t able to go in because they were cleaning, a good sign I thought, so I left my backpack in a locked closet until the room became available. It made me a bit nervous at first but while I was waiting I got to talking to a couple of guys from South America, who were also staying and also had their things locked in the closet.
Since I was alone the guys told me I could go tour around with them. Miguel was from Buenos Aires, Argentina and Juan was from San Paulo, Brazil. Once again, I had managed to survive one night alone in a foreign city to be rewarded with some new friends for my self-induced troubles. After getting checked in we grabbed an archaic map of the city that sat at the front desk of the hostel and hit the streets.
Miguel was an economics guy who was working for a company in Argentina and it’s been so long I’ve forgotten what Juan did. Both of them were very friendly and only spoke English around me, even when speaking to each other. Unfortunately they didn’t speak Spanish, so I couldn’t even begin to understand their language if they spoke it. They even took me to Vatican City, even though they’d gone earlier in the day. We toured as much as we could before it was time to go back to the hostel to get our stuff and put it into the rooms.
My room had more cultures than the UN. There was an Aussie, who’d been on holiday for nearly 8 months, an Italian-American girl with her French boyfriend, and another lone traveler from Argentina. Carlina, the Argentine, was in Rome for a few days before going to Spain to spend the following few months with family. Since she was alone and I was hanging out with others from South America I asked her if she wanted to come around with us and she accepted. So I spent the remainder of the trip with my new group of South American friends.
Finally my time in Europe was about to come to an end. I was flying back to Frankfurt for a day, then back to the US the following day. Once again I said goodbye to my newfound friends and left behind the greatest, well, only European adventure I have had. I had lucked my way safely out of Germany, I had made my way out of Paris and Rome by making new friends and now I was back on my own for a day before getting back to the comforts of my own home.
In hindsight I’m really happy that I didn’t make any plans. I forced myself into situations where I had to meet new people and do things regular tourists don’t do. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it didn’t matter, I had to figure it out either way and making it more difficult was a good experience. Life can be easy but why make it so when it’s more fun the other way.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Jeff's European Adventure Part 2
I might just be delirious but sometimes I look back on my life and laugh on how much stupid stuff I’ve been allowed to get away with.
After Germany my “schedule” had me traveling by train from Frankfurt to Paris. Once again, I had no plan and no idea where I was going. I was waiting for a train to show up, but not entirely sure what train it would be. Eventually one arrived that matched some of the numbers on my ticket, just like the lotto. So I jumped on and when they didn’t kick me off I decided I was on the right one. Also keep in mind, I’ve never been to Europe before and certainly had no idea what a Parisian train station looked like but I figured it would be the one that a lot of people would get off at.
Soon the train ground to a halt, a little sooner than I thought but it was a high speed rail so I figured I must have lost track of time. I jumped off and looked around… Silence… No one was around and only about 20 people got off. So I turned around and got right back on before something bad happened to me… You know like getting stranded in the middle of nowhere France. So, sure enough 3 hours later we pulled into a bustling train station with banners saying Paris everywhere. I prayed that they didn’t just hang up Paris banners in France for kicks and hopped off.
Okay, made it to Paris physically unscathed… Now what? No idea, no plan, no hotel, no contacts and no clue. Only logical thing to do now was to wander around aimlessly until something fun happened. In a matter of 6 hours I walked from the major train station to the Louvre, Le Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower. By now it was around 6PM local and I hadn’t eaten or found a place to sleep. Luckily I wasn’t completely without a plan. I scouted a hostel in the area and made my way for it…
NO BEDS AVAILABLE!? What about floor space? Couch? I’ll sleep with her… No? Okay…
Plan B, the row of hotels down the random road outside the hostel…
Hotel number 1, NO VACANCY
Hotel number 2, Doesn’t like English speakers and doesn’t speak mandarin apparently.
Hotel number 3, BINGO! 62 Euro a night works for me. I had a bed now, albeit a crappy little one with a crappy little shower, but who am I to complain.
I guess I wasn’t being completely honest when I said I didn’t have a plan. At this point in life I was doing something called hashing. It’s not what you think, it’s actually a running group called the Hash House Harriers. Basically we’d drink beer, run and do all kinds of faux ritual stuff. I discovered and made contact (I guess I lied about not having contacts too) with the Paris Hash House Harriers and found that they were having their 666th hash the weekend I was there. So the second night I was in Paris I went to a bar and found them.
Hashers from England, Scotland, Australia, Canada, all over Europe and even a few American were in Paris for the hash. I got to chatting with one of the locals, who was actually from Canada and spoke English and French. He had an apartment in Paris and offered me a spot there to sleep. He also had another hasher from Switzerland staying with him so he said one more wasn’t any inconvenience. I happily accepted the offer and the next night I packed my stuff, checked out of the hotel and moved in to the apartment.
The following day I was supposed to leave for Barcelona. I decided that I had a place to live, a fun group of new friends and for once a bit of comfort. Therefore, it was in my best interest to change my flight and go directly from Paris to Rome and skip Barcelona. Besides, the Aussies warned me that everyone gets mugged in Barcelona, so it was probably safer for me. Odds were good that I was going to be wandering around quite a bit looking for a place to stay. Actually that’s exactly what happened in Rome, which was probably the scariest part of the entire trip.
After Germany my “schedule” had me traveling by train from Frankfurt to Paris. Once again, I had no plan and no idea where I was going. I was waiting for a train to show up, but not entirely sure what train it would be. Eventually one arrived that matched some of the numbers on my ticket, just like the lotto. So I jumped on and when they didn’t kick me off I decided I was on the right one. Also keep in mind, I’ve never been to Europe before and certainly had no idea what a Parisian train station looked like but I figured it would be the one that a lot of people would get off at.
Soon the train ground to a halt, a little sooner than I thought but it was a high speed rail so I figured I must have lost track of time. I jumped off and looked around… Silence… No one was around and only about 20 people got off. So I turned around and got right back on before something bad happened to me… You know like getting stranded in the middle of nowhere France. So, sure enough 3 hours later we pulled into a bustling train station with banners saying Paris everywhere. I prayed that they didn’t just hang up Paris banners in France for kicks and hopped off.
Okay, made it to Paris physically unscathed… Now what? No idea, no plan, no hotel, no contacts and no clue. Only logical thing to do now was to wander around aimlessly until something fun happened. In a matter of 6 hours I walked from the major train station to the Louvre, Le Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower. By now it was around 6PM local and I hadn’t eaten or found a place to sleep. Luckily I wasn’t completely without a plan. I scouted a hostel in the area and made my way for it…
NO BEDS AVAILABLE!? What about floor space? Couch? I’ll sleep with her… No? Okay…
Plan B, the row of hotels down the random road outside the hostel…
Hotel number 1, NO VACANCY
Hotel number 2, Doesn’t like English speakers and doesn’t speak mandarin apparently.
Hotel number 3, BINGO! 62 Euro a night works for me. I had a bed now, albeit a crappy little one with a crappy little shower, but who am I to complain.
I guess I wasn’t being completely honest when I said I didn’t have a plan. At this point in life I was doing something called hashing. It’s not what you think, it’s actually a running group called the Hash House Harriers. Basically we’d drink beer, run and do all kinds of faux ritual stuff. I discovered and made contact (I guess I lied about not having contacts too) with the Paris Hash House Harriers and found that they were having their 666th hash the weekend I was there. So the second night I was in Paris I went to a bar and found them.
Hashers from England, Scotland, Australia, Canada, all over Europe and even a few American were in Paris for the hash. I got to chatting with one of the locals, who was actually from Canada and spoke English and French. He had an apartment in Paris and offered me a spot there to sleep. He also had another hasher from Switzerland staying with him so he said one more wasn’t any inconvenience. I happily accepted the offer and the next night I packed my stuff, checked out of the hotel and moved in to the apartment.
The following day I was supposed to leave for Barcelona. I decided that I had a place to live, a fun group of new friends and for once a bit of comfort. Therefore, it was in my best interest to change my flight and go directly from Paris to Rome and skip Barcelona. Besides, the Aussies warned me that everyone gets mugged in Barcelona, so it was probably safer for me. Odds were good that I was going to be wandering around quite a bit looking for a place to stay. Actually that’s exactly what happened in Rome, which was probably the scariest part of the entire trip.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Jeff's European Adventure
Have I ever told you about that one time I went to Europe for work?
During the spring of 2007 the working group, which I represented Boeing at with a co-worker, decided that they wanted to have meetings in Germany. Our program manager was only allowed to send one of us over for the meeting (boondoggle). At this point I was 2 years on this particular job and had never been to Europe before so I was selected to go.
Our office assistant set up all my travel arrangements to Germany and after a lot of deliberation I decided to extent my trip beyond the week in Germany and take a stroll around the entire continent. Of course the company wasn’t going to pay for anything other than my trip there, my expenses while on the clock and the trip back, so the rest was on me.
I purchased a train ticket from Frankfurt to Paris, then airline tickets from Paris to Barcelona, Barcelona to Rome and finally from Rome back to Frankfurt where I was back in business class on the company dime for my return trip. Each leg of my little journey was to be 2-3 days. I didn’t book any hotels rooms, preferring to figure it out when I got there. Yeah, like it or not, that’s what I do…
The beginning of my trip was as planned out as our assistant could have made it. I had a flight overseas, a hotel and a rental car. So here I was, some guy who’d never gone to Europe before, about to fly to Germany by myself, rent a car and drive 2 hours to my hotel, which I wasn’t completely sure the location of, but I knew once I met up with all the other contractors I’d be in with familiar faces again, so I wasn’t worried. Luckily I ran into one in Detroit, who was on my flight to Germany. Did I mention that I wasn’t really sure where the town the meetings were to be held in was? HA! Yeah, no idea…
I told him while we were waiting for our flight to leave from D-town that I didn’t know where I was going. He said that it was okay because he’d been there and knew exactly where we were meeting… I was on his tail from Detroit, MI all the way to Kaiserslautern, Germany.
In my Opel (Ford) I had the pedal down to the floor trying to keep up with his BMW 5 Series… But this was life or lost, so I redlined that little 4 cylinder until, I’m sure, it was about to explode. When we got to Kaiserslautern he took me passed the base we were meeting so that I’d know where to go the next day. Then I followed him to his hotel. This is where the problem reared its ugly head, my hotel was nowhere near his, nor did he have a clue where it was at. We asked the front desk at his hotel and got a bunch of Deutsch and some scribbles in response. So I told him that I’d find it, and I was fairly confident that I would. It might just take me a while… A long while…
I must have driven around for 2 hours, with no particular logic or any idea where I was at. I’m not smart but I’m diligent… Something possessed me to follow a random car, which had proven to work in the past. He took me down some narrow streets with no curbs and people eating within inches of my rearview mirror. I followed him down an alley and… whoops, right into his driveway. I threw that little compact into reverse faster than Kobayashi at an eating contest. The man got out of his car and started waving at me.
“OH CRAP!” I thought.
He was smiling, which was a good sign, so I rolled down the window and pointed at the address of the hotel and spouted off some high school German in hopes that he would understand my plight. He gave me the international sign of wait a minute and went to his wife, who by now was standing outside too. When he came back he told me to follow him. Strange, I thought, if this were the US I’d either have the cops on me, I’d have been cussed out or shot by now. But this guy wants me to follow him? Well what do I have to lose besides another hour or two?
Sure enough, 15 minutes later I was driving to the front of my hotel. He pointed at it, waved and then sped off without even stopping to let me thank him. You always hear about relying on the kindness of strangers, but I never really experienced it until then. I threw the car into park, went in and didn’t leave for the rest of the night…
Minus the first day the remainder of the trip was rather uneventful. If you don’t include the five hours I spent walking around downtown Kaiserslautern trying to find my car or when I accidentally found the restaurant that everyone was meeting at without directions. And this was just the first part of my trip, somehow I managed to survive Paris and Rome too…
During the spring of 2007 the working group, which I represented Boeing at with a co-worker, decided that they wanted to have meetings in Germany. Our program manager was only allowed to send one of us over for the meeting (boondoggle). At this point I was 2 years on this particular job and had never been to Europe before so I was selected to go.
Our office assistant set up all my travel arrangements to Germany and after a lot of deliberation I decided to extent my trip beyond the week in Germany and take a stroll around the entire continent. Of course the company wasn’t going to pay for anything other than my trip there, my expenses while on the clock and the trip back, so the rest was on me.
I purchased a train ticket from Frankfurt to Paris, then airline tickets from Paris to Barcelona, Barcelona to Rome and finally from Rome back to Frankfurt where I was back in business class on the company dime for my return trip. Each leg of my little journey was to be 2-3 days. I didn’t book any hotels rooms, preferring to figure it out when I got there. Yeah, like it or not, that’s what I do…
The beginning of my trip was as planned out as our assistant could have made it. I had a flight overseas, a hotel and a rental car. So here I was, some guy who’d never gone to Europe before, about to fly to Germany by myself, rent a car and drive 2 hours to my hotel, which I wasn’t completely sure the location of, but I knew once I met up with all the other contractors I’d be in with familiar faces again, so I wasn’t worried. Luckily I ran into one in Detroit, who was on my flight to Germany. Did I mention that I wasn’t really sure where the town the meetings were to be held in was? HA! Yeah, no idea…
I told him while we were waiting for our flight to leave from D-town that I didn’t know where I was going. He said that it was okay because he’d been there and knew exactly where we were meeting… I was on his tail from Detroit, MI all the way to Kaiserslautern, Germany.
In my Opel (Ford) I had the pedal down to the floor trying to keep up with his BMW 5 Series… But this was life or lost, so I redlined that little 4 cylinder until, I’m sure, it was about to explode. When we got to Kaiserslautern he took me passed the base we were meeting so that I’d know where to go the next day. Then I followed him to his hotel. This is where the problem reared its ugly head, my hotel was nowhere near his, nor did he have a clue where it was at. We asked the front desk at his hotel and got a bunch of Deutsch and some scribbles in response. So I told him that I’d find it, and I was fairly confident that I would. It might just take me a while… A long while…
I must have driven around for 2 hours, with no particular logic or any idea where I was at. I’m not smart but I’m diligent… Something possessed me to follow a random car, which had proven to work in the past. He took me down some narrow streets with no curbs and people eating within inches of my rearview mirror. I followed him down an alley and… whoops, right into his driveway. I threw that little compact into reverse faster than Kobayashi at an eating contest. The man got out of his car and started waving at me.
“OH CRAP!” I thought.
He was smiling, which was a good sign, so I rolled down the window and pointed at the address of the hotel and spouted off some high school German in hopes that he would understand my plight. He gave me the international sign of wait a minute and went to his wife, who by now was standing outside too. When he came back he told me to follow him. Strange, I thought, if this were the US I’d either have the cops on me, I’d have been cussed out or shot by now. But this guy wants me to follow him? Well what do I have to lose besides another hour or two?
Sure enough, 15 minutes later I was driving to the front of my hotel. He pointed at it, waved and then sped off without even stopping to let me thank him. You always hear about relying on the kindness of strangers, but I never really experienced it until then. I threw the car into park, went in and didn’t leave for the rest of the night…
Minus the first day the remainder of the trip was rather uneventful. If you don’t include the five hours I spent walking around downtown Kaiserslautern trying to find my car or when I accidentally found the restaurant that everyone was meeting at without directions. And this was just the first part of my trip, somehow I managed to survive Paris and Rome too…
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Good Morning Dubai
Right now I’m sitting in my hotel room at the Grand Hyatt Dubai. The hotel itself is nothing out of the ordinary in a city with more cranes than any other place in the world. From my window I can see over twenty cranes and I’m sure if it were a clear day I could see more in the distant skyline. The city and it’s people are a conglomeration of old world and new school all set against an ocean background.
We took a day to tour some of the cities more touristy destinations including the Mall Dubai, Emirates Mall, the Burj Al Arab and the Palm Island. All three are a testament to the power and immense wealth of the city. Imagine building a whole community on an island shaped like a Palm tree where less than a decade ago there was only ocean.
Despite the extensive westernization of Dubai, the old world is still very much in power. While eating lunch at the Emirates Mall, I had Chinese by the way, the muezzin announced the time for prayer over the PA system. There were LCD displays notifying people to respect the local custom and dress located at the entrances of the mall.
I think it’s interesting to see so many people dressed in traditional clothing walking amongst western tourists dressed in shorts and flip flops. Groups of women in burqas walk passed women in mini-skirts and men in robes meet with men in suits. It’s not at all the culture shock I was initially expecting, but I guess I wasn’t really expecting anything.
Looking out from the window of my room, which is the entire northern wall, I have to remind myself that I’m not in San Diego anymore. There is green grass, palm trees and a swimming pool surrounded by jogging paths and a water park. Cell phone towers are cleverly disguised as palm trees surrounded by palm trees. That’s another characteristic of this city that really amazes me, how everything is kept so perfect.
Everything from the overpasses to the road barriers are painted to match. While walking around the mall I noticed more people sweeping and cleaning than in any mall stateside. There were even people sweeping the sidewalks on the streets. I guess money can buy cleanliness and there is A LOT of money around here. Where else can you find a city that’s exploded as much as Dubai in a very short period of time?
Part of me would like to know how it was before the big bang of Dubai. Before all the companies moved in and started constructing their skyscrapers and luxurious hotels. How different was it from other parts of the Middle East? I’d like to talk with someone who was here before and continues living here to know what the local perspective is. Is there even anyone left here from those times? Most of the people I’ve talked to are Indian, Filipino or African. Maybe I need to get to the outskirts of town to find the ones who know, but I’m leaving tomorrow so I guess it’ll be left for another time.
We took a day to tour some of the cities more touristy destinations including the Mall Dubai, Emirates Mall, the Burj Al Arab and the Palm Island. All three are a testament to the power and immense wealth of the city. Imagine building a whole community on an island shaped like a Palm tree where less than a decade ago there was only ocean.
Despite the extensive westernization of Dubai, the old world is still very much in power. While eating lunch at the Emirates Mall, I had Chinese by the way, the muezzin announced the time for prayer over the PA system. There were LCD displays notifying people to respect the local custom and dress located at the entrances of the mall.
I think it’s interesting to see so many people dressed in traditional clothing walking amongst western tourists dressed in shorts and flip flops. Groups of women in burqas walk passed women in mini-skirts and men in robes meet with men in suits. It’s not at all the culture shock I was initially expecting, but I guess I wasn’t really expecting anything.
Looking out from the window of my room, which is the entire northern wall, I have to remind myself that I’m not in San Diego anymore. There is green grass, palm trees and a swimming pool surrounded by jogging paths and a water park. Cell phone towers are cleverly disguised as palm trees surrounded by palm trees. That’s another characteristic of this city that really amazes me, how everything is kept so perfect.
Everything from the overpasses to the road barriers are painted to match. While walking around the mall I noticed more people sweeping and cleaning than in any mall stateside. There were even people sweeping the sidewalks on the streets. I guess money can buy cleanliness and there is A LOT of money around here. Where else can you find a city that’s exploded as much as Dubai in a very short period of time?
Part of me would like to know how it was before the big bang of Dubai. Before all the companies moved in and started constructing their skyscrapers and luxurious hotels. How different was it from other parts of the Middle East? I’d like to talk with someone who was here before and continues living here to know what the local perspective is. Is there even anyone left here from those times? Most of the people I’ve talked to are Indian, Filipino or African. Maybe I need to get to the outskirts of town to find the ones who know, but I’m leaving tomorrow so I guess it’ll be left for another time.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Chicago Skyline
The Chicago Skyline is clearly visible from my seat in the American Airlines Admiral Lounge. Also from here I can see all the airport vehicles busily buzzing around, moving airplanes and hauling luggage. I can only imagine how things will be different when I reach my final destination.
Within the borders of our nation we are so sheltered from what happens across either ocean. Famine, illness and violence plague much of the world. I don’t imagine that I’ll see many of the locals when I finally get to base. But I do imagine that their situations are a far cry from what our citizens face, even those who are destitute.
I imagine a world with no infrastructure, a world where it’s dangerous to walk the streets even as an adult let alone a child. A world where violence happens so regularly that it has become common place. A place where things as simple as running water, which most of us take for granted, is a commodity left only for those wealthy few who a can afford such luxuries. Of course at this point I haven’t even left the States, so for now I can only imagine based upon media reports.
In reality I’m not sure what to expect. As with most of life’s experiences I try to have little expectation. As for the expectations I do have, I try to keep them as negative as possible. I’m not a fan of being disappointed and I do my best to avoid it. Of course I sound like a pessimist right now, but for those who know me that is far from the truth. I guess I like to look at experiences as a road.
You’d never expect a road to be perfectly smooth, otherwise why have tires. But no matter how bumpy the road the destination should always be the focus. I’m not explaining this very well… It’s actually been about 7 hours since I started writing this. I’ve since left Chicago and am over the Atlantic somewhere. It’s around 1 AM CST and I haven’t really slept, but I’m working on becoming an insomniac so this is good practice… Sorry, back to my little analogy.
So, life is like a road, expect the road to be bumpy but at the same time expect the destination to be wonderful. I think that makes a bit more sense. I’ve done a lot of road trips. Alone I’ve driven from Missouri to Colorado 9 times. I’ve driven with friends from Columbia, MO to Mexico and Utah and from St. Louis, MO I’ve driven to Key West and San Francisco (thanks to my big Hawaiian friend for letting me join in the night before they planned on leaving). At no point did I ever think the ride there was going to be puppy dogs and candy (I picked that one up from DB) but I knew the destination was going to be worth the pot holes.
I think I finally realized what the “road” is. The road is this entire chapter of my life. My “destination” isn’t Afghanistan. It’s what I’ve gained after this experience is over.
But to get to that reward I need to spend most of the rest of this year in hell.
Within the borders of our nation we are so sheltered from what happens across either ocean. Famine, illness and violence plague much of the world. I don’t imagine that I’ll see many of the locals when I finally get to base. But I do imagine that their situations are a far cry from what our citizens face, even those who are destitute.
I imagine a world with no infrastructure, a world where it’s dangerous to walk the streets even as an adult let alone a child. A world where violence happens so regularly that it has become common place. A place where things as simple as running water, which most of us take for granted, is a commodity left only for those wealthy few who a can afford such luxuries. Of course at this point I haven’t even left the States, so for now I can only imagine based upon media reports.
In reality I’m not sure what to expect. As with most of life’s experiences I try to have little expectation. As for the expectations I do have, I try to keep them as negative as possible. I’m not a fan of being disappointed and I do my best to avoid it. Of course I sound like a pessimist right now, but for those who know me that is far from the truth. I guess I like to look at experiences as a road.
You’d never expect a road to be perfectly smooth, otherwise why have tires. But no matter how bumpy the road the destination should always be the focus. I’m not explaining this very well… It’s actually been about 7 hours since I started writing this. I’ve since left Chicago and am over the Atlantic somewhere. It’s around 1 AM CST and I haven’t really slept, but I’m working on becoming an insomniac so this is good practice… Sorry, back to my little analogy.
So, life is like a road, expect the road to be bumpy but at the same time expect the destination to be wonderful. I think that makes a bit more sense. I’ve done a lot of road trips. Alone I’ve driven from Missouri to Colorado 9 times. I’ve driven with friends from Columbia, MO to Mexico and Utah and from St. Louis, MO I’ve driven to Key West and San Francisco (thanks to my big Hawaiian friend for letting me join in the night before they planned on leaving). At no point did I ever think the ride there was going to be puppy dogs and candy (I picked that one up from DB) but I knew the destination was going to be worth the pot holes.
I think I finally realized what the “road” is. The road is this entire chapter of my life. My “destination” isn’t Afghanistan. It’s what I’ve gained after this experience is over.
But to get to that reward I need to spend most of the rest of this year in hell.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
A Long Road Behind and a Longer Road Ahead
I feel like I’ve spent every week in a different city since I started working on this program. Now that I think about it that’s not far from the truth. My first 4 weeks was spent in Savannah, TN where I did my formal training. Following this I spent a week in Bingen, WA where we had our evaluations and the maintenance exam. Then I was back in Saint Louis for 2 weeks completing paper work for military deployment processing. Now I’m headed home for a day after spending a week at Camp Pendleton where I was processed and issued my ID card, body armor, gas mask and helmet.
That doesn’t seem like a lot of stuff, but the body armor and helmet alone took up my whole suit case, fortunately I brought a duffle bag just for such an occasion. I went from carrying a 15 lbs piece of luggage to carrying a 50 lbs roller case and a 10 lbs duffle bag. I was waiting for someone to ask why my suit case was so heavy and sure enough the woman at the American Airlines counter asked
“What do you have in here?”
I responded “Body armor…”
She laughed.
I wasn’t sure if she believed me or not. After all how many people dressed in civilian clothing roll through with a black Samsonite filled with body armor? Probably more than I think… Although I’m sure the people doing the X-Raying had a good time trying to figure out what it was… Oh yes, and there was the gas mask too, which was an interesting acquisition. I hope I don’t have to use it while I’m out there, especially with TRNG ONLY painted on the filter… Please President Obama, don’t upset the Pakistanis or Iranians…
Well besides all that good stuff, I also got my military ID card. That has become my de facto form of identification for everything. Anytime I get carded I pull that bad boy out and wait for them to figure out what it is. I’ve gotten a lot of long strange stares, but I continue to use it because it’s more easily accessible than my driver’s license since I have it in the front pocket of my wallet. Sometimes people will recognize it and are really appreciative since they know where you’re going or where you’ve been. The card itself is pretty cool too. It has a functional smart chip with all my information encoded on it. Unlike the smart chip on my Boeing ID which has nothing encoded on it. I still sort of wish I brought it with me so I could have more easily accessed the Boeing facility in Seal Beach. I had to make some copies and fax some documents to reserve my flights overseas. I have a friend who recently transferred there. We were going to meet for dinner anyway, so I decided to give him a ring and see if he could get me in the facility to use the printers.
He had meetings in Huntington Beach so he let me sit in his office, which had a view of the ocean. I’m not sure I can go back to working in the windowless boxes at the Saint Louis facilities after being there. The entire building seemed so much nicer! On top of that the entire area was nicer than the area the Saint Louis site is in. The first bit of evidence was the signs that said “MAY 15 BIKE TO WORK DAY.” It’s like a dream of mine to be able to bike to work, especially on my birthday! A few of you know that I’ve tried a few times but finally gave up. It was always either too hot, too windy or too dangerous. Seal Beach is always between 70 and 85, winds usually seemed calm and drivers are courteous and accustomed to bikers. In fact, I saw more bicyclists, joggers and walkers out in California than I saw in Oregon and that was why I was so impressed by Oregon!
So of course I’ve fallen fast for another city, the downside is that it’s just as expensive as Oregon... But of course I won’t let something like that stop me. I’ve always said that I wanted to move out to San Diego, even though I had never been. When I got to Hood River, I thought I found everything I’ve ever wanted… Then I spent time in California and found more than I could ever ask for. Reality check, it doesn’t matter since I’m going to be spending the rest of the year on a 6 month camping trip. It’s my birthday today and by this time next week I’ll be in a tent surrounded by miles of nothing.
We’ve been in contact with one of the guys that’s there now. He’s been giving us the heads up on travel, what to bring and the conditions at the base. It doesn’t sound as bad as I imagined. We have air conditioned tents that work “most of the time.” Well… I guess that’s really all I know about it, but that was a big deal to me. If you know me, you know that I hate heat. 120F isn’t my idea of a good time unless I’m checking the internal temperature of a piece of meat. I was joking around with one of the guys and said that I can’t wait to throw on 50lbs of body armor and go for a 4 mile run. I was joking but I can also see myself really doing something like that. I really don’t think I have all the nuts in my head tightened to specifications, should have used a torque wrench.
Anyway, I’m on the plane back home right now. I have some “birthday gifts” from Boeing to pick up from UPS tonight. It’s actually all the gear that I was supposed to have before I left for Pendleton. I’ll probably spend part of the night opening boxes and deciding what I want to bring with me overseas and the other part celebrating my 28th. Tomorrow will be a fun filled day doing expense reports, completing whatever paper work I have left and, weather permitting cutting the lawn. Then Sunday I’ll be hanging out in the business class cabin with the high rollers on my way outbound. Things started rolling really fast all of the sudden, who knew that things could be so efficient!
That doesn’t seem like a lot of stuff, but the body armor and helmet alone took up my whole suit case, fortunately I brought a duffle bag just for such an occasion. I went from carrying a 15 lbs piece of luggage to carrying a 50 lbs roller case and a 10 lbs duffle bag. I was waiting for someone to ask why my suit case was so heavy and sure enough the woman at the American Airlines counter asked
“What do you have in here?”
I responded “Body armor…”
She laughed.
I wasn’t sure if she believed me or not. After all how many people dressed in civilian clothing roll through with a black Samsonite filled with body armor? Probably more than I think… Although I’m sure the people doing the X-Raying had a good time trying to figure out what it was… Oh yes, and there was the gas mask too, which was an interesting acquisition. I hope I don’t have to use it while I’m out there, especially with TRNG ONLY painted on the filter… Please President Obama, don’t upset the Pakistanis or Iranians…
Well besides all that good stuff, I also got my military ID card. That has become my de facto form of identification for everything. Anytime I get carded I pull that bad boy out and wait for them to figure out what it is. I’ve gotten a lot of long strange stares, but I continue to use it because it’s more easily accessible than my driver’s license since I have it in the front pocket of my wallet. Sometimes people will recognize it and are really appreciative since they know where you’re going or where you’ve been. The card itself is pretty cool too. It has a functional smart chip with all my information encoded on it. Unlike the smart chip on my Boeing ID which has nothing encoded on it. I still sort of wish I brought it with me so I could have more easily accessed the Boeing facility in Seal Beach. I had to make some copies and fax some documents to reserve my flights overseas. I have a friend who recently transferred there. We were going to meet for dinner anyway, so I decided to give him a ring and see if he could get me in the facility to use the printers.
He had meetings in Huntington Beach so he let me sit in his office, which had a view of the ocean. I’m not sure I can go back to working in the windowless boxes at the Saint Louis facilities after being there. The entire building seemed so much nicer! On top of that the entire area was nicer than the area the Saint Louis site is in. The first bit of evidence was the signs that said “MAY 15 BIKE TO WORK DAY.” It’s like a dream of mine to be able to bike to work, especially on my birthday! A few of you know that I’ve tried a few times but finally gave up. It was always either too hot, too windy or too dangerous. Seal Beach is always between 70 and 85, winds usually seemed calm and drivers are courteous and accustomed to bikers. In fact, I saw more bicyclists, joggers and walkers out in California than I saw in Oregon and that was why I was so impressed by Oregon!
So of course I’ve fallen fast for another city, the downside is that it’s just as expensive as Oregon... But of course I won’t let something like that stop me. I’ve always said that I wanted to move out to San Diego, even though I had never been. When I got to Hood River, I thought I found everything I’ve ever wanted… Then I spent time in California and found more than I could ever ask for. Reality check, it doesn’t matter since I’m going to be spending the rest of the year on a 6 month camping trip. It’s my birthday today and by this time next week I’ll be in a tent surrounded by miles of nothing.
We’ve been in contact with one of the guys that’s there now. He’s been giving us the heads up on travel, what to bring and the conditions at the base. It doesn’t sound as bad as I imagined. We have air conditioned tents that work “most of the time.” Well… I guess that’s really all I know about it, but that was a big deal to me. If you know me, you know that I hate heat. 120F isn’t my idea of a good time unless I’m checking the internal temperature of a piece of meat. I was joking around with one of the guys and said that I can’t wait to throw on 50lbs of body armor and go for a 4 mile run. I was joking but I can also see myself really doing something like that. I really don’t think I have all the nuts in my head tightened to specifications, should have used a torque wrench.
Anyway, I’m on the plane back home right now. I have some “birthday gifts” from Boeing to pick up from UPS tonight. It’s actually all the gear that I was supposed to have before I left for Pendleton. I’ll probably spend part of the night opening boxes and deciding what I want to bring with me overseas and the other part celebrating my 28th. Tomorrow will be a fun filled day doing expense reports, completing whatever paper work I have left and, weather permitting cutting the lawn. Then Sunday I’ll be hanging out in the business class cabin with the high rollers on my way outbound. Things started rolling really fast all of the sudden, who knew that things could be so efficient!
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Bullpen
I’ve been back in Saint Louis for a little more than a week now. Like a good corporate citizen I’ve been coming in to the office to help out wherever I can. Thus far I’ve spent the majority of the days getting poked and prodded by physicians and nurses though. I have to admit, I’m feeling pretty invincible right now with all the vaccinations I’ve gotten in the past few days.
There are various others in the office and we spend the mornings fighting for open desks so we can set up camp for the day. The others are in town from various places and for various reasons. Some are waiting for medical clearance to return, while others are in between deployments. One of the best parts of having these guys around is hearing the stories they bring back from the field.
Most of the stories are about good times. Even the bad stories come across lighthearted when thought about in hindsight, although at the time it was far from it. Occasionally the seemingly random mortar fire would come a little too close for comfort and bring the reality of war back to the forefront of one’s mind. Other times it was far enough away to be heard but not felt. Despite what the media shows, it seems that these types of attacks on a base are rare and furthermore rarely accurate.
I’m very excited to get out and experience it first hand. I might be naïve but even hearing the bad stories aren’t a deterrent. I’m going out there to do something important for a lot of people and from my perspective it’s something that’s going to be a lot of fun no matter where I end up. It’s a good thing I’ve heard plenty of negative comments about my destination to lessen my expectations.
Multiple times my friends have advised me to try to go somewhere else. The danger level is high, the facilities are terrible and the people are subpar. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s better to start with the worst and work my way up to the best. My only hope is that the people aren’t as subpar as I’ve been told. I don’t mind the danger; it’s what I’m here for. I don’t mind the facilities; I can eat anything and sleep anywhere.
Now the wait continues. My scheduled deployment date is the week of May 11, but things change daily around here. I could leave tomorrow or I could leave in a month. My final destination has probably changed a dozen times and will probably change a dozen more.
There are various others in the office and we spend the mornings fighting for open desks so we can set up camp for the day. The others are in town from various places and for various reasons. Some are waiting for medical clearance to return, while others are in between deployments. One of the best parts of having these guys around is hearing the stories they bring back from the field.
Most of the stories are about good times. Even the bad stories come across lighthearted when thought about in hindsight, although at the time it was far from it. Occasionally the seemingly random mortar fire would come a little too close for comfort and bring the reality of war back to the forefront of one’s mind. Other times it was far enough away to be heard but not felt. Despite what the media shows, it seems that these types of attacks on a base are rare and furthermore rarely accurate.
I’m very excited to get out and experience it first hand. I might be naïve but even hearing the bad stories aren’t a deterrent. I’m going out there to do something important for a lot of people and from my perspective it’s something that’s going to be a lot of fun no matter where I end up. It’s a good thing I’ve heard plenty of negative comments about my destination to lessen my expectations.
Multiple times my friends have advised me to try to go somewhere else. The danger level is high, the facilities are terrible and the people are subpar. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s better to start with the worst and work my way up to the best. My only hope is that the people aren’t as subpar as I’ve been told. I don’t mind the danger; it’s what I’m here for. I don’t mind the facilities; I can eat anything and sleep anywhere.
Now the wait continues. My scheduled deployment date is the week of May 11, but things change daily around here. I could leave tomorrow or I could leave in a month. My final destination has probably changed a dozen times and will probably change a dozen more.
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