1-Year Lockdown

On the Road Again

“Aren’t you stressed?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you stressed, driving here?”

After five years of not having a car - the longest stretch since I was eleven - driving in Mauritius has been a constant topic of conversation. Vera is constantly white-knuckled in the passenger seat, which I keep climbing into because I forget the steering wheel is on the other side here.

“Well, you learn to manage it,” I say. You do, just like any other risk. Actually, you start to rationalize. “It’s not like Taiwan.” In many of the post communist states, the masses were suddenly able to buy a car, but there was no basis for driver training or road courtesy. In Taiwan, people knew the rules, but chose to ignore them.

“To drive here, just think of the dumbest thing the other driver can do, and wait for it to happen.” Invariably, it does. Just then, the driver in front of me stops on the shoulder of the motorway and lets out a passenger, who crosses the median and the opposing lanes with luggage, all in the dark. I’m thinking it is no big deal, as on this occasion the driver signaled, and usually they don’t. Being my turn, I enter a traffic circle without checking to see if I have the right-of-way. The road is a two-lane undivided highway now, and a motorcycle is in our lane going the wrong direction.

“See, in Taipei you might have someone take a scooter a block down the sidewalk on a one-way street to avoid driving around three blocks. This is a two-way street, but you still have someone who can’t be inconvenienced to move 12 feet left. On this highway, on this trip alone, you’ve seen: joggers; a car stop on an entrance ramp to get stuff out of the trunk; tractors hauling sugar cane with no brakes; underpowered scooters – and that doesn’t even count the stuff that happens on the regular surface streets.”

“Still, if you can learn to drive here, you can drive anywhere.” After a bit of a reflection, I added, “We just might be ready for India.”

Sorry

Yeah,it has been nearly a year. I didn't really expect that, but things got pretty crazy in Afghanistan, and I couldn't post about most of it. So here I am in Mauritius, and it is time to rename the blog. Suggestions are welcome.

Anyway, it seems things are picking up no matter where I go. In a strange twist, I've been told I must go to the Seychelles - right away. Also, there are only 3 flights a week, so I can't come right back. This is far better than when I had to go - right away - to Gardez. My main problem is that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is holding my car hostage in port, under circumstances that I would consider suspect, but that just might be business as usual here.  

So, instead of working my way into wrong side of the road driving, I was thrown in the deep end. Instead of my nice little Toyota Corolla, I got the keys to a loaner 4 cylinder Land Cruiser. To up the difficulty level, add rush hour, dark, and the rain. Pretty nice in a place with narrow roads. At least I've only had one Otto "asshole!" moment, just after pulling out of my driveway. The opposing taxi driver kindly gave me the "other lane, please" signal. Since you pretty much have to drive in the middle of the road anyway, it isn't a big deal. 

Anyway, more from the Seychelles, I hope.

Same as usual

So, I’m coming back for Kevin’s wedding, but I figured I’d but up a couple YouTube videos that were popular here in Afghanistan. Here we go:

“Who else seen a leprechaun say yeah!”

“I just came to help.”

L-I-V-I-N

I’m feeling a little guilty for not blogging in months, but I’ve been a little busy – I’m logging at least 25 hours of overtime a week – and I’ve been sick. Some of the folks think it is a virus, and others swear it is the food. The doc came firmly down on food as the culprit in a meeting today. Not that I entirely blame the dining hall contractor either. It’s a tough deal, but the military doesn’t have this problem at Camp Eggers, Phoenix, or down in Kandahar.

Security being what it is here in Afghanistan, pictures of the compound are verboten. I can take pictures of my hooch, but my stuff isn’t here yet so there isn’t much point. I’m sure I’ll have something to post soon. I am hearing horror stories about consumables shipments (food, wine, etc) being packed with household effects, and of bottles bursting on the plane. So I’ll probably be taking pictures of that for insurance purposes when it does get here, and I’ll be happy to share my misery.

From Guam

Slacker

Yes, I'm really behind in getting pictures up. I'm working on it, I promise. Even though the photo albums are not complete, I'm going ahead and publishing them.

Let me go ahead with the other good news: Adam and Heather are expecting a baby girl. Let's hope that spurs him to get alpione.com back up.

Those Funny Swiss

It's not everyday that you get hit by unintentional comedy so profound that it sends the whole office running to Google to see if it is an early April Fools joke. Nor do you expect that kind of thing to come from the Swiss. Then Friday afternoon, the Swiss trade office sends this:

Eliana Burki and Her Funky Alphorn

 

There is a web site, and it has sound. The concert is at the Taipei Water Museum. Really, what else do you want from me. I'm not sure how this article got written, because I couldn't do it.

 

Congrats to Doug and Sam

So things have been crazy and all with planning the wedding, but that is no reason not to get over to dougblack.net and see the pictures of Hayden. I didn’t post anything at first because he said pictures were forthcoming. Instead, he waited weeks then backdated his blog.

 

So I'll do the same with this post.

Just Like a Creamsicle

Last night was Karaoke night at the gay motorcycle bar – the purple motorcycle being gay not the bar. It’s the only place to hang out after the fun police shut down official bar night months ago in an overreaction to a couple incidents. Now, most events are officially private even if they tend to have open invites. Last week it was a toga party in honor of Betsy’s transfer to Athens (yeah, we know the toga is Roman but who cares).

Back to the story: I arrive with some colleagues at about 9 after we finish working. The singing is damaging my hearing and I’m looking for a beer, but then I’m offered something else. “Have a vanilla vodka and orange Fanta,” they say. “It tastes just like a Creamsicle.”

I’d forgotten about Creamsicles, so I had to try it. And it did in fact taste just like a Creamsicle, which I now remember I never liked. Then a rocket exploded in the distance (we think near ISAF or Camp Eggers) and the duck and cover alarm went off for the next three hours, pretty much killing the party. The singing was terrible, but launching a rocket attack to stop the INL section's rendition of Barry Manilow's "Mandy" was a bit much.

Still, it made for an interesting last night in Kabul. As if to make up for my lack of sleep, my Emirates flight from Dubai was a 777 with only 27 passengers. Everyone had either a first or business class seat, or a whole 4-seat center row in coach to sleep on.

Zima

That is what this faux beer they are selling at the PX tastes like, except Zima probably has more alcohol. Kronenbourg weighs in at a measly 1.2% ABV, meaning that in addition to not being beer, it won’t get you drunk. There it was, next to the Heineken and some other beer I wanted to avoid, in bottles that looked just like beer. There was also Becks, but it was more expensive. We were spoiled by the $8 a case fire sale of Bitburger at the end of July. Those monsters. I should have known not to buy anything with a French label. I haven’t been this disappointed since I accidently bought Bitburger Drive.

But there is light. There is a rumor that there is an Italian pizza place and a beer garden on the ISAF compound. I intend to find out tonight.