Tidal Wave of Traffic

The traffic here is crazy, though I've only seen one accident with blood. Some of the intersections have lights and some of them work some of the time. It's really funny because the Afghans don't quite know what to do with a light that works. Some of them will stop on a red, but they usually get honked at vigorously as the cars pile up behind them like a logjam on a surging river. So away they go, propelled into the raging intersection.

There are a few traffic cops, but they haven't been trained well and about half the drivers ignore them. Sometimes the cops just give up and go sit in the shade. Others stand there forlornly waving their red paddles, imagining that they are exercising great power over this flow of metal and smoke when, deep in their hearts, they must know that they are being completely ignored.

You enter the intersection where the traffic cop has retreated to shade and you're faced with ten cars coming at you from every direction. Who is going to take the right of way? You eye the one on the left. He eyes you. You project all the testosterone you can muster through the windshield and towards him, hoping to cow him with your manhood. You see his face begin to show signs of fear. You've bested him! Oh, no, it's one of those Pakistani cars with the driver on the other side. You've been jousting with the frightened passenger! Arrrggghhh, as you slam on the brakes and the driver sails by with a condescending look on his face. Your manhood lies in tatters, trailing behind your car for all to see like the cans behind a newlywed's car. You slowly reel in the cans as you drive on, vowing that the next time it will be different. But it never is.

A Bachelor Painting Food

Some people have asked me to describe the food here. This is a difficult proposition for a bachelor. You know how you describe new and exotic foods in terms of food you know ("it tastes like chicken")? Well, I'm having trouble describing Afghan food in terms of tuna and mayonnaise. Actually, I do know loaves of bread and I know 4X4's so I can describe "nan". Nan is a loaf of wheat bread run over by a 4X4. Seriously! Picture a loaf of bread run over by a knobbied tire. It's flat, it bulges out on the ends where the tire didn't quite cover the whole loaf, it has distinctive tread marks, and you can even see some of the black pavement ground into the bottom. That's nan. It's quite good. Just brush off the black charcoal on the bottom and away you go.

Mantoo is the favorite food of Afghan single women...some of you will get that on the way home. My married women friends here say that mantoo is a type of dumpling. I'm taking that on faith since I can't remember what a dumpling is, but maybe some of you can. The electricity goes out almost every day and sometimes right during meal preparation so I have learned the "bachelor's mixer" trick for when you have no power for mixing your food. Scoop one mouthful of tuna from the can, place it in your mouth, then put one heaping tablespoon of mayo into your mouth and shake your head vigorously. You now have a nice tuna salad and you can swallow as needed. It works quite well with a variety of foods. Try it some day when the electricity goes out.

Mystery in Blue

Okay, what is it with these burqas? Head to toe in a blue sheet. They were definitely invented by men. I finally figured out what they remind me of. Do you remember the little blue creatures chasing PacMan? You've got just the eyes barely visible through the mesh and the blue that shimmers and shakes as they scamper along.

Can I be honest with you? I wonder what they look like under that blue veil. I mean it's so dehumanizing. Are they old or young? Are they smiling or crying, scared or confident? Attractive or homely? I've pondered this as I pass by them and I think I have figured out a way to tell something about them -- look at their shoes. It seems that the one way they can proclaim their individuality is by the style and quality of not only their shoes but also their leggings and stockings. I'm telling you, there are some pretty shoes walking around Kabul! So I have come up with a rating system on shoes and leggings that I believe may relate to what the woman looks like under the veil. My problem is that I have no way to prove or even test my hypothesis. Could someone help me test this out? Just walk around with your head down looking only at shoes and tell me if there is a correlation between the shoes and the person. Now, if you run into anyone else walking around with their heads down looking at shoes, you can confidently say, "You must know Curt in Kabul."

Rattletrap Taxi in Kabul

I rode home one night in a real rattletrap of a taxi. The car was so loose, I thought the rear axle might come around and visit the front axle... if it didn't get left behind in a couple of the larger potholes. We'd hit a rippling washboard in the road and each of the wheels would individually start doing an Irish jig, but not in step. By the time they settled down, we had jigged half way across the road toward the poor guy coming towards us on a bicycle. Just before disaster, the wheels would start dancing to the same tune and we would lurch around the panicked rider. I should have known I was in for an adventure when I came out from the house to catch the taxi and the driver was pouring water into the radiator in the dim light of one cockeyed Cyclopes headlight. I just sat there and laughed. It was truly an experience. I love Afghanistan! I paid the driver extra because I felt so sorry for him. This car was probably his only means of livelihood and he was so proud of it.