Battlefield Tourist

Living this life is so strange at times. You really need an open mind to get through the non-stop hurdles that are thrown at you. I'm not talking in specifics, I'm talking in simple general speaking. Everyday here, and in this capacity, is a daily challenge that is ever evolving. As I meld into my new world, I'm actually starting to appreciate and better enjoy my new job.
Specifically, my job is to do what I can to get combat video from wherever I can on the war in Afghanistan. That offers me a great deal of latitude. Unfortunately, being the over-achiever type, I want IHA do rule the country (market wise). So that's what gets frustrating. I just want to win and we don't have the resources or organization to get it done right now.
Our main problem here is a lack of structure. There is no one leader. Everyone is on their own frequency. We don't have morning meetings to discuss issues, so everyone generally sleeps until 9:30 -10:00, except me. My usual day starts at 7:00 with an hour of learning Farsi (Persian). Maybe two hours. I then write my blog and an email or two (which I save in my documents). After that, I head to the internet cafe, copy my emails, check mail and news, etc... From there I go back to the house and work on future ideas or rest, working to get out with a combat unit.
On my first day back from Khowst, I needed to get some editing done, get my gear together, and black some tapes for my upcoming excursion. In the process, I decided to devour nearly a kilo of dried apricots. Very good. Nice fiber. No problem. Ahmed warned me about eating too many, but I ignored him and would pay dearly.
I was invited to a place called "The Ganndemack Lodge" for dinner with a British guy (Kiren), whom I'd met in Khowst. He was getting ready to had back and was in need on my Mac and my last blank DVD to copy some pictures. Of course I had to oblige.
Ahmed dropped me off at the place, which like most in Kabul, was in a nasty looking neighborhood. All the houses surrounded by walls with armed guards. I push open the iron door and it lets into a wonderfully green courtyard. Several small groups of people were lounging around talking, having drinks, etc... Definitely a stark contrast to what was on the other side of the wall.
I met with Kiren, who introduced me to some professional friends: Anthony - Stuffy old english guy with the wild stories of "the old days", Lou - Mine clearing engineer from New Zealand who talks without moving his teeth, and Justin, another English guy that works for a security assessment firm. He looks an awful lot like the younger blonde brother from the TV series, "Simon & Simon".
Actually, the character introduction hardly needs to be made. Imagine the fore mentioned talking about their tales on the frontier, while I grimace in pain from the cramps that have plagued me since I walked in. Now mind you, the fiber is doing me just fine, it's the fermenting by-product that is causing such concern and discomfort.
Outside it wasn't such a problem. At least there I could "go for a walk" that really wasn't too noticible. Unfortunately, my "contractions" were literally just minutes apart. So strong were they, that I needed near immediate relief. If not, the discomfort level would skyrocket like "gay" Pete's adrenaline in Ricky Martin's dressing room.
So of course it isn't long before we go to have dinner. It's the first "real" restaurant I've been to in a month and it looks great. Now the Ganndemack is a guest house owned by a freelancer here in Kabul. It has 27 rooms and is basically a "Bed & Breakfast" that also serves dinner to outside guests, primarily Westerners on this night. The place has to be making a killing and is becoming a journalist hangout in Kabul. Three networks call this home including Sky News and CBS. Which of course means Laura Logan is here. She and her producer, Cindy have just joined us for dinner: Fresh salad with blue cheese, leg of lamb, and chocolate syrup cake. It was soooo good.
Throughout the evening I have to dismiss myself four or five times "to let the steam out". Every time, prompting remarks like this from the manager, Katherine: "Oh, don't let my conversation chase you away." She was talking about circumcizing pigs. "Oh, it's not that, I assure you!". Or better yet, from Justin: "Whoa, I thought we were going to have to come looking for you!".
Needless to say, after just an hour, I let Kiren know that I was just physically too uncomfortable to stay. The dinner was nice, I just wish I could have been more social and not so much in distress of exploding.
I have to admit, Kiren at first put my bill on his tab, then I ended up paying for it myself. I wonder what the intentions were, because when I left, it seemed a little frigid. I wonder if he understood the magnitude of my discomfort, or if he he thought he and his stuffy conversation were too much for me. Either way, it was a night to remember at "The Ganndemack".

PS - Late note: My Red Wings have been knocked out. I'm going home to retire my hat and cry.