Football changes everything...

So, the Euro 2012 is over, and Italy did not win the final over Spain. No doubt that Spain was the better team, 4-0 speaks for itself. Of course I would have liked Italy to win, since I am here in the country as a guest, but honestly, since Sweden didn't even make it from the group I don't really, emotionally, care. Somehow, however, I started to think Italy would not make it when I saw how the people here started waving flags and driving around in cars with big flags hanging out and definetly not when I saw a flag-vendor having pasted a obituary over Spain, like the ones you see on walls everywhere here. Then I thought, this is taking it out too much in advance, it can never work out... And it didn't!
However it was an interesting game and Spain played very well!!
It was also quite interesting to see all the flags having been removed when we drove back home and the streets were surprisingly quiet... small things change a lot of things here.

Interrail Dreams

I had this idea for what I would like to do on my holiday this year. I would have liked to go on Interrail through Europe! It was one of those things that was really popular in the 80:s and I did it twice, the last time in 1990. It was really nice, but to be honest I think I would like it even more now.

Since I travel a lot nowadays, both professionally and privatly I spend a lot of time on planes and airports, something you easily can get tired of. And often I just stay one or two nights in the same place, spending the day in meetings and the night in some standard international hotel. Therefore I kind of like the idea of letting the travelling take time. Enjoying the feeling of being on the way somewhere and enjoing the travel. Preferably I would not have made much plans in advance but just go where the next train is going to and staying as long as I feel like. I would probably have connected it with a few visits by friends in different places in Europe, but would not let it lead to a social stress trip with a lot of "musts" and "have to". I would have tried to take as little luggage as possibel, but brought some good books. Being a little older and knowing a little more of the world (yes, to all know-it-all-teenagers, you do actually learn more with age, at least some...), having more self confidence and some more money too I think I would have enjoyed it more now than then. Now I would not have to choose everything as cheap as possible but could pick a decent hotel and good restaurants if I wanted to.

Well, since I am writing this you probably understand I am not going to do it. At least not this holiday. I don't really know why or how it happened, but all of a sudden my three weeks of holida were allready planned with other things. But I still like the idea. Maybe next year....

Reflections from South Africa (looking back)

Something that quite immediately struck me on arrival in Cape Town was that it did not really “feel like Africa”. Not that I have been that much to Africa before, but compared to Zimbabwe and Ethiopia where I have been, Cape Town felt very much less “African”. And as my friend probably quite correctly stated; you will probably see more black people in southern London than in central Cape Town. However I, honestly, don’t pay much attention to the colour of peoples skin and quite often I don’t even really “see” colour that way. But then all of a sudden something makes you aware of the fact that the colour of the skin can look different, and sometimes it is the strangest things. As for example when you meet a black person with a band aid. The band aid is supposed to be “skin-coloured” not to attract too much attention, but the “skin-colour” is the beige/pink of a Caucasian person, which really do catch attention on a black person. Then it struck me; I have never seen band aids developed for black people. Maybe there are some, just that I have never seen any. Or is our world really still so biased that it has never been developed?!

A Different Brasília

When I came back to Brasília yesterday after my two weeks of travelling, it was a different Brasília that I met. During the two weeks I have been away it had been raining a lot and after months of drought you could really tell the difference. The earth had just soaked the water and the ground was freshly green, the red-brown dust was washed away from the trees and bushes and there was a completely different smell in the air. It might be a little more like the Brasília I first came to in April, it was still green then, but yet different.

I think I am also a somewhat different person now,when I am leaving Brazil. I have learned a lot and every experience you have change you a little. I have also met a lot of nice and interesting people, that changes you too. It has been a good time and I am feeling a little sad to leave. I am really not good at good byes...

Flying Thoughts

Once again I am amazed how slow the check-in at Brazilian airports can be. Not because there are so long lines, but the handling at the desk is just so slow. They all seem to have their first day at work and every passanger seems their first ever, as if they necer did this before. Some of the passengers also act as if they never travelled before, eventhough I don't think that is the case.  And then the Brazilian's love for talkin!!!! How is it possible that the question whether you want a aisl or window seat can take minimum of three minutes to answer??

Another thing that I have been thinking about while flying lately is all the signs and texts ON the plane telling you to "No Step!" or "No step beond this line". The lines on the wings I suppose are to direct people in case of evacuation after an emergency landing, but if you have crashed/done an emergency landing does it really matter where on the wings you step?! But then there are those signs in various places on the body of the planes, there I find it harder to figure out why you would want to step there.

Coming and leaving

My time in Brazil is quickly coming to an end now. On Friday I am doing my last day at work here and then I will have a weekend in Brasília before I go travelling on Tuesday for a couple of weeks and then go back to Sweden.
It has been a great time here. Although Brasília is strange place and it for sure took some time to get into it and I still think it is probably one of the worst places in the world to come to as a single expatriate over the age of 35, I still kind of like it.
I have worked a lot but still I have invested a lot of energy in getting to know people and creating some kind of social base. After six months it is starting to pay off, but then it is time to leave. And for sure you notice that people are not as keen on investing time in you, as they know you are soon leaving. I can understand that, it is completely rational behaviour, but it makes me a little sad. I have met so many lovely people here and I would have loved to stay here longer, but it is time to leave.
Somehow one comfort is, that I seem to meet lovely people whereever I go. Which means there are a lot of lovely people out there and there will be many more lovely people to meet whereever I go. At the same time I am really bad at saying goodbye and leaving. And it is for sure not getting any easier with time.
Therefore it is a strange combination I have. I am restless and love to go to new places and I get very easily settled anywhere and can build myself a social base anywhere, but still I hate to say farewell and leave. It is a bad combination. At least in the sense that I am making it very hard for myself.
I must admit, I am a bit sad now. At the same time it feels good to be back. At least for a start. There are a lot of things that I have missed, but at the same time I know it wont take long before I am bored to death with life back home in Stockholm... but I will try not to think about that now. You never know what life has waiting for you!

Cultural Adaptation and Cultural Adoptees

There is this thing that I have never understood and that is this total fascination and absorbtion of another culture that I have mostly seen happening to some europeans getting in touch with Latin American or African culture. What generally happens is that they get completely in to this culture and everyting connected to it; the language, the music, dance, food, sports and religion and specifically only are attracted to persons from that specific culture. Often they can go to quite some extent in defending why this culture is so much better, so much purer and more "real" than others.
I have never understood this and I have also never understood this faiblesse for these cultures. Partly I have explained this with the fact that I don't speak the language and hence is not able to understand this. I willingly admit that I still don't understand Portuguese very well, but I still think I would never be one of those committed culturalists. Not that there is anything wrong with the Brazilian culture, it has many positive and fascinating features, like most other cultures. And maybe here is my problem with these people. They tend to over romanticise the culture they have fallen in love with and start to despise and reject their own native culture without sometimes even knowing it very well.
This I don't understand and most of all I don't see the need for this reaction. I have a theory however and that is that these people are somehow seekers that are somewhat unhappy and unsatisfied in their life and with the culture they grew up with and find an easy fix in adopting another culture. What they tend to miss in the process is how much they are formed by their own culture anyway, like it or not. And also that all cultures have their advantages and shortcomings. Now I will want to interpret my scepticism toward this as a sign of good diplomat material. I like different cultures and like to know more and understand more about them, including my own, but feel no need to get over enthusiastic about one before the other.

End of the First Honeymoon?

Whenever you move and/or change jobs I believe you go through pretty much the same phases getting adjusted, especially if you move abroad. I know there is research done on this, giving different names to the phases and approximate estimates on how long they last and what comes after the other etc. However I don’t remember them all now, but it does not really matter. I have moved, changed jobs and countries often enough to know them well and especially how I react myself in situations like this.

This weekend I might have experienced some kind of end to the first honey-moon. All of a sudden I felt sad and frustrated. I missed my friends badly and I felt very frustrated with things, especially not being able to communicate with my surrounding. I even started crying without any particular reason (one part of the explanation might also be that I was rather tired) a couple of times. I also felt very frustrated with the fact that I haven’t found likeminded friends that I feel I can spend my weekends with. So when the weekend came and I finally had time to do something fun, and now also have a car so I can move about, I did not know what to do and where to go because I didn’t like to go on my own.

Somehow my lovely friends and family must have sensed this frustration. On Saturday morning I found a long lovely e-mail from a good friend and then I had a long talk on Skype with another friend and later with family. Then it all felt better. On Sunday morning a colleague asked me if I would like to go with her to the stable and go horseback riding. That was such a hit! Eventually I found myself in an environment that was familiarly to me and I felt that I could do something that I know how to do. I was also very positively surprised that the man responsible for the horses and giving the lessons spoke really good English. I was so happy afterwards and now everything feels much better again!

A good thing, and maybe one of the reasons that I can go on living this way, is that these mood swings are very quick and short and I am so easy to please and make happy again!!

Fireworks

They really like fireworks here in Brasilia!
I have been here two weeks now and can't even count how many fireworks I have heard. I haven't seen any though. As my apartment doesn't really have any windows and now view at all, I don't see anything but I hear.
Here they also seem to like having fireworks accompanying their demonstrations. That means you hear fireworks also at daytime, which seems like a waste as you will hardly see anything of it.

One Week Later

So, now I have been home for a little more that a week and still Rio is very much in my mind. Not only because of the sand falling out of bags, pockets and books and not because the cold that I caught the last days in Rio is still hanging on, but because the city really made a strong and lasting impression.

As I made my decision to go there very sudden and without much preparation I had read and studied far less than I normally do before I travel to a new place. What I knew was mostly the standard clichés about samba, beach, carnival and crime and also what my friend told me, which was also stereotypical in a way. He talked about the sensualism of Rio and the Cariocas, their joie de vivre and the very easy going lifestyle and how very special the place is. Looking back I must admit that most of it is true. The only thing that I did not experience was crime and violence. Many have asked me about whether it is dangerous or not in Rio. It is of course difficult to say anything about the security situation in Rio after a two weeks visit only because nothing happened to me. Maybe I was just lucky. No, not only lucky. I stayed in one of the safest areas of the city and of course one has to be careful. There are places where you should not go alone after dark and you should be careful carrying around valuables. But tell me the place where you should not take these precautions. There are places in Stockholm where I don’t go alone after dark either. And crowds attract pickpockets everywhere. However these precautions were never anything that I felt impeded on my movements or what I wanted to do. I felt absolutely comfortable walking home alone at night and staying late alone at the samba school and taking a taxi home alone felt completely safe. To be honest I felt more safe there than in Stockholm at times.

So, what about the other things. Yes, I think a lot of it is true. There is a very relaxed atmosphere over the place, maybe simply because it is too hot and humid to stress, but nevertheless. The beach culture and the music are indeed very sensual. People flirt in a very positive and friendly way that does not mean anything more than just that, it is just a way of interacting. Before I came I had heard about the minimal bikinis, floss bikinis, and thought the beaches would only be full of beautiful, slim and tanned bodies. And there are a lot of very beautiful people on the beaches, people who like to show themselves. The funny thing however is that is not only the young, fit and beautiful showing themselves off in tiny bikinis. No, also the older, the rounder and not so very beautiful also show their bodies in minimal swimwear and do not feel ashamed or embarrassed about that. That I like!! In Sweden I would say the tolerance is much lesser and the verdict hard on anyone showing up in too small a bikini if she has a few kilos more then some ideal. “How can she?!” “Who does she think she is?!

The same things go for dancing. By the way; Yes, they do dance in the streets!! Also here, everyone joins in. The old, the fat and the ugly as well as the young, slim and beautiful. Now writing this, I choose words as “fat” and “ugly”, but when I think about it they were not fat or ugly, the music and joy made everyone beautiful. As it is very hot and very humid everyone sweats the whole time, which means no one cares about that either. Who cares if you have some sweat marks on you shirt, so has everyone! Even if you can’t dance, as a tourist at a samba school, it is not a problem. People are very happy to help and show you how to make the steps, and they do it in a very positive and appreciative way not to make you feel bad or stupid not knowing how to move your feet (or your ass) to a hellish speedy samba rhythm. I only regretted I do not speak Portuguese so I could talk more to people. I have the feeling it would have been very interesting.

Well, on top of this you have a very beautiful landscape, fascinating architecture, some of the most beautiful beaches, parks and nature, lovely music and fantastic fruits. So how can you but love the place? I want to go back and in a way I am still there.

Back in Belgrade!

Last weekend back in Belgrade was just great! The reason for going there right now was that I had a ticket for the Madonna concert Monday, but of course that was just a perfect excuse for going there again. I haven’t been back since October 2006, so it was a long time ago. As an extra bonus my wonderful friends had decided to arrange the now somewhat traditional boat party this Saturday, which of course was absolutely fabulous! The party and the concert are better described in pictures so that will come later, but one question I both asked myself and was asked to me several times is; what has changed since last time you were here?



On the first look it looked very much the same. Of course you see some new shops, others that have closed, some new restaurants and bars and even a few completely new shopping malls. Some housed may have been renovated, but many still look rather shabby, in their charming Belgrade way. But after a while you start to notice small differences. One new thing that I noticed in the streets and the parks, were the green boxes for dog litter and plastic bags to take it up with. With the amount of dog shit that used to be found on the streets this is really an improvement. (if they are used!). Another thing was that you now can pay with credit cards in almost every shop. They even had little terminals were you had to give the pin in even the smallest shops. Amazing!! I even thought the air was a little less polluted and that I saw less really shitty cars and more modern ones. All this taken together gives the feeling that Belgrade has become a little bit more modern and “normal”.



The most revolutionary however was the evolution that the men had gone through! I saw several men that actually were nicely dressed!! Not fancy, but maybe just a pair of nice jeans, shoes and a cool t-shirt or shirt. That is not so many sneakers-training pants and leather jackets as I remember it. That is really good. I mean the Serbian men could be really good looking and handsome, but they haven’t given a damn about trying or giving it an effort. They have just been dragging along in their probably very comfortable “uniform”, but comfortable is not reason enough. I mean how damn comfortable do you think the 10 cm stilettos are?! Not very, nor much of other kinds of women’s fashion either, but still we wear it because it looks good. So it is about time men make an effort as well. The most chocking experience I had this weekend however was that a Serbian man actually flirted with me!! That NEVER happened once in the year I lived here (nor my visits after that!). It was even a waiter in a café, maybe even more chocking!!

Girl Power

Another thought that struck me just before leaving Kabul was that I think Afghanistan would be better off if their women had more power. Of cause this is a general opinion of mine, but I believe it is even more valid in Afghanistan. At the airport you have to go through countless bag and body searches. Most of them are completely inefficient, but still you just have to let them do it. And as it impossible that a man should body search a woman or even see anyone do it there is often a small shed where the women go in to get searched. And whereas the men got more and more upset after each search and said they were more and more annoyed by the ruthless and unfriendliness of the officers, I had the completely opposite experience. At the first shed the woman referred to me as “sister”. Later I was offered watermelon and got some compliments for my bracelet and some new dari words. Therefore I believe the women are more compassionate and friendly and would have a very positive influence on the politics.

And anyway, I just had another proof of that men are completely impossible to understand. Completely unreliable and irrational…

The Internationals

It is quite funny, but no matter how different Afghanistan and Dubai are, they have one thing in common; they would not cope without their expats. However there are very different types of international. In Afghanistan you find the “humanitarians” and the “cowboys” travelling from one disaster or war zone to the other and like to talk about and comparing the misery in different places, the one place being worse than the other. In Afghanistan noting is really simple or clean. In Dubai everything is shiny and beautiful and they seem to believe it is possible to build away all problems and act as if there are no worries in this world; it is all a big party. Instead of moving from disaster to disaster people move from one financial centre to the other. In Afghanistan there are few parties and little investment and finance is more a question of funding. So what makes those people do what they do? What is their motivation? Money? Kicks? On the average maybe these two groups of people are not so different after all. The other day someone commented my trip to Afghanistan with: “That must be interesting, it is great that there are people who work with things that is not just about making money.” That made a huge gap very visible. I never thought of it like that. Not that I would mind making a lot of money, but I could not imagine spending my time on a job that I don’t find interesting.

Afghan Star

At the hotel I found a small magazine called Afghan Scene. It is exactly what it sounds like; an attempt to create a feeling of a scene in Kabul. A scene for the young, beautiful and successful (although the picture on the cover shows an old man with a thick grey beard and the traditional pakul hat). It was very interesting reading indeed. Especially one article about a woman who made a documentary on the Afghan version of the TV-show Pop Idol; Afghan Star. It was amazig reading! I did not even think there was anything like that. But as the filmer said, almost everything you hear from Afghanistan is miserable Taliban related stories about war and fighting and number of dead. But this country has a population where 60% are under the age of 20, of cause they want to hear and know something else. Of cause you can then say; is this really what they need?! Is this not only superficial popular culture. It might very well be, but maybe that is exactly what you need sometimes, maybe especially when life in itself is hard and challenging. And to quote the documentary maker Havana Marking again; There is huge unemployment and gossip is a serious problem. If people can talk about this, then they might not talk about the woman who has to go to work, or other “scandals”.

I haven’t checked it, but maybe you can read the article on: www.afghanscene.com

Pathetically vulnarable

It is amazing how handicaped we are. I feel I can not do my job because my internet connection is too slow!!

I am back in Kabul and very surprisingly the internet at the Serena is so much slower and less reliable than it was at the much more modest hotel in Mazar. I can read my mail, but I can not send any from my job address. To post my blogs is quite ok as I can write the text in Word and then juste paste them here and that does not require many clicks, but trying to search things on the net or download documents makes you crazy.

So, I can write a little on my report, but I will have a lot to do when I get back and it is a bit frustrating not to be able to use the time here better. How pathetically vulnarable we are...

The News and the Reality

It is quite a strange situation to sit here in Kabul and hear the news about the violence in the southern part of the country. There are the hundreds of imprisoned Taliban that escaped prison in Kandahar the other day and there are the Afghan and international forces stepping up their offensive on Taliban strongholds to the level it almost sounds as outright war and there are news about people fleeing their homes in fear of the fighting. And here I sit in the capitol and it feels absolutely calm and safe. I was not nervous or afraid in March when I was here, but I felt the atmosphere was tenser then, now it feels more relaxed. This time I have not visited so many UN-organisations as last time, which might be one of the reasons why I find the situation more relaxed than last time. I haven’t had to pass as many as rigorous security checks and have met less nervous international staff.

I know it can be very deceptive. There have obviously been more serious rumours about attacks against Serena again, but here I sit looking out my window over the sun setting and casting a beautiful light over the hills. All I hear through my open window is the hum of the generator, some birds and in the distance the sounds of the city.

Tomorrow we are leaving for Mazar again and we will have to leave rather early which is not very great. As movements early in the morning is normally recommended to avoid. And the road to the airport is of cause a strategic target. But I am sure it will be no problem. This time we won’t be staying in the camp in Mazar, which is good. That means we will be able to see some of the city and hopefully we will also be able to go on some visit to the field.

Life in a Bubble

So, I am back in Kabul again. Somehow it feels both different and familiar at the same time, I can not really tell why. Ok, it is summer; it is warmer, greener, but also dustier. Statistically the security situation might have worsened, but I think it feels more relaxed. Maybe because it is my second time, I don’t know. I feel more relaxed and interact more with local people. Being here with a bigger delegation also makes it different, everything takes more time and more time is needed for coordination and briefings etc. It feels less efficient.

The biggest difference though is that we are staying in a very fancy hotel. We wanted to stay at the same guest house as last time, but it was fully booked. Then there was another hotel that was the second choice, but that too was full. Due to the security requirements and general standard then there are not so many choices left. Therefore we are staying at the Kabul Serena. It is VERY nice!


The view from my room.

The rooms are very big and comfortable; the service excellent, the food delicious and it has all facilities of a fancy hotel (pool, gym, spa, beauty salon etc). But somehow and quite honestly I can not really enjoy it. I find it feels very strange to live like that in a place like Kabul, with the immense poverty just out side the walls.


The pool area.

In here it is a completely different world, you really live in a bubble, in here you don’t even hear the noises of the city. You don’t hear the muezzin, the traffic and all the people shouting and yelling, although the hotel is right in the city centre. I also get a guilty conscience for living here. I feel I waste too much water in a country fighting draught, even though I try to be sparse. I feel bad about the constant supply of electricity because I know it is from a generator running constantly and I can see the dark cloud of diesel fumes coming out from it all day and night. Ok, the guest house as well as all who can afford it have a generator because of the poor electricity supply, but in the guest house the generator was not running constantly and I could tell when the normal power fell out and the generator started, here you never notice any black outs. Of course I hade a nice shower with hot water also in the guest house, but the flow of the water was less generous so it made you remember how scarce water is here and made you automatically take shorter showers. Here the water flows everywhere. Of course it is comfortable, but it feels wrong and it makes you almost forget where you are. I honestly would have preferred to stay at a more low key place.

Culture Shock!

So, now I am back in Sweden again, got back yesterday. It feels ok. My luggage got stuck in Vienna. Of course! My luggage always gets stuck in Vienna. I think I will try to avoid transit in Vienna in the future. It now has arrived in Stockholm, but will not get from there to The Small Town until Monday because it is Easter! Anyway I went directly to my parents’ place to avoid spending more time in The Small Town than is absolutely necessary.

From Kabul we flew to Dubai again, and even though we had some problems with the customs because of the flak jackets, we had quite a lot of time between our flights. My colleague’s brother lives in Abu Dhabi and works and he came and picked up together with a cousin who lives in Dubai. They took us out for dinner on the town, very nice! They took us to a big shopping mall, not too far away from the airport, by Dubai creek. It was quite some difference from Kabul! I somehow felt it a little difficult to grasp, that on the same day I had lunch in a clay hut in a dusty street in Kabul and in the evening I had dinner on this terrace in a glitzy, shiny, all gold, marble (fake!) and crystal shopping mall, overlooking the yachts in the harbour in Dubai. It was very nice. I loved the place and all the beautiful people frequenting it, but it somehow also felt completely absurd. That huge difference in wealth and lifestyle only separated by a two hours flight. Completely absurd! And as my colleague and I had not had the time to change clothes we felt very dusty and dirty in that shiny environment.

Landing in Sweden did not make the culture shock less. Here it was a snow storm when I arrived! Flying is definitely a fantastic way of travelling, but sometimes I wonder if it is not too fast. Sometimes I would prefer to let the transport take some time to let my mind adjust slowly and to digest all the impressions on the way.

I will soon post pictures from my trip to Afghanistan here on the blog. I will just have to sort them out first and get back to my own computer and the photo software I am used to. So just stay tuned!

Nauroz Mubarak!

My last day in Kabul I managed to do some more sightseeing before going to the airport. I suppose any security adviser would say that what I did is exactly what you should not do, but when it is only about me, myself and I, I like to do my own security assessments and this far that has always worked out well. I am careful, not afraid!

The recommendations was to stay away from the Nauroz celebrations and big public crowds as these can be a very soft target for insurgents, terrorists and/or criminals, but I had discussed the plans of the day yesterday with my driver and he came and picked me up a little earlier and took me to see how the Kabulis celebrate new year. Well, the few of them that were left. He meant that 25% of the people in Kabul had already left for Mazar, which is the place to be on Nauruz. So the streets were fairly empty and quite. Those who were left took it up the hills and the mountains, on all the hills in and around Kabul you could see a lot of people. My driver took me to Bibi Maru Hill.

Already from a distance you can tell that there is something wrong and weird with the hill. It is not very high and has a flat top. There are no buildings on it and hardly a road worth the name going up to the top; still you see from a distance a big diving board on top of the hill. It belongs to an Olympic sized pool that the Russians built, but that hardly ever had any water in it because of the difficulties to pump water up to the top of a hill.

During the war they found an alternative use for the diving board; as an execution site. Then I must say I think they found better use for it now.


When we came up to the top of the hill we saw a big crowd of people on the bottom of the empty pool, there was music and there was dancing, lot of kids were climbing the diving board; the pool was turned into a spot for party and celebration!




There were a lot of people everywhere; everyone dressed up in their best clothes. Between two of the old deserted, rusting, Russian tanks was a man selling colourful balloons! Quite an absurd thing!




From the hill we could look down at another party site; a cemetery! My driver, Khan, asked me if I wanted to go there. First I was hesitating. Not so much for security reasons, but more for the fact that it felt a little bit as showing up at a party you are not invited to, and being the only westerner by far, I easily attracted attention and kids quickly started asking for “one dollar, please mister, one dollar”. But I understood that my driver wanted to go there; and from the hill he had pointed out the house where he is living, so I understood that this is his home ground. That was one factor that convinced me to let him take me there (another of course my notorious curiosity). I decided not to look upon my self as an uninvited stranger, but as a guest from overseas, invited by my driver to his neighbourhood, then it felt better. That also made me able to move around more relaxed, it also meant I had someone who could translate for me and tell me what was the right behaviour and when it was ok to take pictures etc.

It was an interesting and fascinating experience, walking around among the tombstones and mausoleums, seeing people setting up their picnics between the headstones, vendors selling everything from tea and snacks to kites and toys.



There was also a man-driven merry-go-around.




There was something else that was also wrong with the mountain. Looking up the hill from the cemetary one could see a big bomb crater.



After a while I felt it was time to get going. I had made plans to have lunch with my colleague at the guest house before taking off to the airport, and my colleague also did not know what I was up to so I thought we’d better get moving. The Khan asked me if he could invite me to see his home and meet his family. I was completely surprised, I had not expected that. I did not really know what to answer as I realised this was an honour and I was flattered, I knew Khan was Pashtun and I had read and heard a lot of the Pashtu hospitality, but at the same time I knew we were short of time. I asked Khan how long it would take us and he assured me that we would have time, so we went there.

We drove along the bumpy dirt tracks of the narrow alleys between the mud walls that are hiding all houses in Kabul until we stopped in front of a green gate. The gate was opened by a young boy and we drove into the yard. The compound consisted of three or four connected houses around yards, one of them had a small garden. It was all very simple, but very clean and tidy. In the dusty environment I guess they have to sweep the yard, the paths and the floors several times a day. I met the mother and the father of Khan, his younger sister and a sister in law and a bunch of nephews and nieces. I immediately felt very welcome and they all looked happy to see me there. Only the sister in law could speak a few words in English and welcomed me to Afghanistan. So did the father and the mother in Khan’s translation. The women and the children all rushed up to me to shake my hand, but not the father. I knew this could be the case and I am think I did well not to expect that and also to put my hand to the chest and greet him that way, it somehow came automatically and I did not feel less welcomed by him because of this. He was a very dignified man with a magnificent black beard. Later Khan told me that he is an attorney and a member of the parliament. The women and children were all very excited to have me there and showed me in to the living room. First I was invited to sit on the floor, but then someone objected and showed me to the next room where there was a low table with a sofa and three chairs. I believe sitting there was regarded as better than sitting on the floor. The sister in law brought her six months baby and gave him to me to hold.

I was asked if I wanted food or some tea. In a combination of not wanting to cause them a lot of work, shortage of time and a fear of being served something that I could not eat, I answered that I had lunch waiting for me at the guest house and that I only wanted some tea. But nevertheless the sister came in with a jug of water, a washing bowl, and a towel and she poured water over my hands over the washing bowl so I could wash my hands. Then a big sheet of naan bread was divided between me and Khan, a big tray of rice, a bowl of meat stew, some spinach and fresh vegetables were put on the table and voila; lunch was served. I felt a little bit awkward, both because I did not really knew how do deal with this, but I just looked at what Khan did and did the same, and because the others were not eating but only watching us and also I could not help wondering if this food would make me sick, mostly because I did not know about the quality of the water they had. But I found the food looking very fresh and nice, and I though that even if it would make me sick, this was my last day and hopefully I would make it back home before it broke out. I only stayed away from the uncooked vegetables but ate from the rest and it was delicious! However, we could not stay for too long but had to go back to get my colleague and the luggage and go to the airport. Before we left Khan also presented me with one of his works, a portrait of a man framed with flower patterns and calligraphy. Very nice! Before we left I took a picture of the family, unfortunately not with the father, but Khan and the women and children and his sister also wanted to be photographed together with me.

I am so happy my driver invited me to his home and I am so happy I went there! It is so important to meet real people when one is out travelling, maybe especially in my work and in a country as Afghanistan. Otherwise it is easy that one start to look at everyone as a presumptive insurgent or a terrorist or a victim or some one in need of help and assistance, but of course the big majority is normal people like we. Seeing the preparations for the Nauroz celebrations and when Khan asked me what kind of holidays we celebrate I also started thinking about the similarities between our cultures. I told Khan that in Sweden we will celebrate Easter this weekend, at the same time as they are celebrating Nauroz, and just the way the Afghans have painted eggs and were playing egg fights for Nauroz, we have painted eggs for Easter and in some parts of Sweden I know they have egg fights too, as well as I know, eggs are en essential part of celebrations in other countries and cultures too at this time of the year. I guess it all have something to do with celebrating the arrival of spring and the spring equinox and such, and that it all goes much further back in the history of humankind than both Islam and Christianity. That makes me wonder what all the fuss is about! Why can’t we just accept that we are all humans with the same needs, hopes and wishes and try not to focus so much on what differs?

Kabul Lives..

I am now back in Kabul again. It feels good to be able to take a good proper shower and to be able to close the door behind you for some privacy, but at the same time I kind if liked to be on the camp and it almost felt a little bit sad to leave, I can imagine what it feels like for those who stay there for six months.

It is a bit frustrating though not to be able to go out more. A part from our meetings I haven't been anywhere on the town. And that there are a very different side was just shown to me on the tv. I guess the program is still running, but we just had a power black out so I can not see it. Anyway, it was a program on Al Jazeera (fantastic channel!!) on heroin addicts in Kabul. Because not only is Afghanistan the worlds biggest producer ob heroin (opium) but the number of users has increased a lot the last couple of years.

I guess the life of heroin addicts living on the street is not very nice anywhere, imagine that what it looked like in a place like Kabul... It was truly horrible pictures, so depressing.

The whole trip here has been very rewarding. We have met a lot of interesting people and recived a lot of information and input. At the same time it is depressing and a bit discouraging. I never thought anything here would be easy, but still... where the hell to start?!?