Kabul bombing

For an update on the blast in Kabul this morning, please see the following article by BBC.

Summary: An apparent suicide bomber was responsible for the blast that occurred outside the governor's office at approximately 08h20 Saturday morning. The blast could be heard across the city. Five people were reportedly killed in the blast.

Back in Kabul!!

Following a wonderful break and cherished opportunity to visit with friends and family in South Africa (for Susan) and California (for both of us), and following almost three days of traveling, Chris and I finally arrived back in Kabul on Saturday afternoon. While a bit exhausted from the jetlag, it was strangely good to be back. I know this sounds odd to anyone who have not lived "at mission", but one becomes strangely fond of the surroundings, the people and all that a particular place begins to hold in store. We battled a few dodgey nights with 3am wake-ups, but emerged somewhere around Tuesday.

Of course, with our Thursdays being the new Friday, that makes Sunday the new Monday, meaning Chris was back in the swing of things on Sunday morning while I, the alleged "lady of leisure" (you may recall I completed my contract in Mazar-e-Sharif, and per our agreement have relocated to Kabul and am now eagerly searching out my next venture), set about rearranging our tiny, yet cozy, room. This might seem mundane compared to constructing shelters and mitigating conflict, but trust me - when you see what Chris can do to a tiny room in nine months, you would revise your thinking.

I find myself struggling to accept time for myself for the first time in months. Having the luxury to sit and ponder, read and hopefully, write, does seem like a blessing. It's not all lounging for me though, as I have entered into massive networking mode to filter through the opportunities that this ever-growing city holds for someone like me.

In the meantime, Kabul is changing its colors, opting for a wintery coat of snow in the mornings, and grey skies during the day. From what I can gather, white, cold, Kabul is actually much preferred over brown, frozen, muddy Kabul, which also means that we are very likely to have a white Christmas. I'll report back again though the first time it hits -25C/-10F, quite possibly with requests for housing in places like Cape Town or California.

San Francisco dreaming...

We recently had the wonderful opportunity to spend a few days in Marin County, just north of San Francisco. As always when on mission, one of the things we miss the most is the outdoors, therefore always dedicate a few days of our vacations to one of our favorite activities: diving, mountain biking, snowboarding or hiking. This time, we decided to mountain bike and booked ourselves into a lovely bed and breakfast, The Mountain Home Inn, in the quaint town of Mill Valley, located on Mt. Tamalpais, the "birthplace of mountain biking" in the 1970s.

Our room had a jacuzzi tub and wood burning fire place, and a balcony with a stunning view of the mountains as well as the city. We usually got up early in the mornings and went for a ride up to the top of Mt. Tam, to return to a wonderfully home cooked breakfast (selections included healthy options such as fruit and oatmeal, and not-so-healthy, though decadent flavors such as grits with ham and onion, topped in a sunny-side-up egg).

Days were spent cruising around Point Reyes, eating oysters, more mountain biking, and of course, a day of wine tasting in Sonoma and Napa. What a wonderful reminder it was for where we started off little over ten years ago. We had lunch at the exact same cafe on the water in Sausaulito, where we ate the afternoon before Chris proposed, and debated driving into San Francisco to eat at the famed Bardelli's Italian. On the first night however, we decided to stay local, and instead drove into Mill Valley in search of a meal. We stumbled upon a lovely Italian place on a corner overlooking the main square, called Vasco's. I don't know, perhaps it was the 300 bottles of wine on display in the window that sealed the deal, or perhaps fate...for when we sat down, following our wine and starter orders, Chris, as he so very often does, flips the menu over to read the story of said Vasco's. Turns out, Paul Lazzareschi named his Mill Valley restaurant after one Vasco Lazzareschi his father and, get this, owner of the very same Bardelli's where Chris and I cemented our engagement all those years before. Coincidence? We think not.

Taken at the spot where Chris proposed to me ten years before.

Dining on oysters California style - BBQ'ed!

The sun setting over San Francisco, as seen from our balcony.

Happy Cows!

Took this shot driving around Point Reyes. Just love the expression on the cow. Wonder if they know they live in some of the most beautiful, pristine coastline in the country!! Lucky cows.

Final note from Mazar e-Sharif

It is so hard to believe, but here I am, at the end of a string of goodbye parties and packing sessions, I am writing my final post from Mazar e-Sharif, for now. My time up here has been some of the most rewarding months of my life, both professionally and personally. I have met people with a resilience and will to survive I did not think existed. Now, as I rip pages out of forlorn notebooks, and donate stationary, colleagues keep popping their heads into my office, offering best wishes and home-made crafts in the form of almonds strung into a necklace, homemade yogurt and a hard white home made ball of cheese.

I am nostalgic but also inspired. What I am most proud of is the team spirit we fostered, where people learned the importance of dialogue and "putting heads together". According to the staff what they will remember from me is the fact that "my door is always open", and "I don't like I problems, I like solutions". In addition to one female who proclaimed she will always remember my standard response when someone walks into my office "what can I do for you".

I will miss my friends, and the crazy nights dancing the night away at one of the bi-weekly Mazar Social Club gatherings, a self-driven solution to a rather entertainment-challenged city. And who could forget Sebastien's Tenderloin at the Royal Oak English Restaurant. So many nights spent eating steak and drinking Becks in what fast becomes one's home away from home in the approved restaurant-deprived Mazar. I remember fondly Fridays a the WFP pool, followed by long sessions surfing the web on the Oak’s wi-fi, while sharing G&Ts with girlfriends, discussing previous and future conflict postings. I said this in Baghdad, and I'll say it again, it is remarkable how much faster friendships and other relationships are fostered and strengthened in these environments.

With that, "goddafis Mazar e-Sharif, Tashakor, Tashakor".

24-6 at the half

It's 12:28am Monday 15 October. I am tucked into bed, it is cool now. Computer in hand, furiously praying that the dial-up will catch enough of the streaming coverage of the second semi final match of the Rugby World Cup match for 2007 - this one, South Africa vs. Argentina. I was supposed to watch the game live at another NGO with a satellite and projector on the big screen, but the French loss against England last night may or may not have contributed to the ghostly reception when I showed up with my Aussie friend and lift. Not a soul loomed in the large Pakistani-style house, so we let ourselves back out as quietly as we entered and I have been wrestling my dial-up modem ever since.

Fortunately I am getting play-by-play updates from the Kabul contingent as I try and find a better source for the streaming radio....

The Blue Mosque

I decided to visit the Rawze-e-Sharif Mosque in Mazar e-Sharif today, one of many known as Blue Mosque. Founded in 1512, the mosque occupies a huge expanse of land in the center of the city. The grounds are covered with gardens, fountains, reflection pools and picnic spots. On any given weekend day, hundreds of families, cripples, children, beggars, and the odd entrepreneur (like the guys with the scales and measuring sticks offering their services at a small fee) gather to enjoy a picnic, feed the pigeons, visit the mosque and simply hang out in the company of friends.

We circled the mosque in a counter-clockwise rotation, pausing to take photos and enjoy the images of families occupying the bright blue picnic tables under pine trees. With two expat women in tow, my Australian friend remarked that he does not usually attract this much attention, pointing to the sporadic hordes of young people who follow us for a few steps, or simply yelling "salaam alaykum" in the passing.

I was blown away by the sheer size and scope of the mosque and in particular by the intricate tile work that covers the entire system of buildings. We did not enter the mosque grounds, opting to arrange a special visit with permission before doing so. Instead, we marvelled at the outside of this magnificent structure believed by Shi'a Muslims to house the remains of the fourth caliph and son-in-law of the Prophet Mohammed, revered as the first Shi'a imam. Many, however, still believe that his body is actually buried in Najaf, Iraq.