After a quick shower, I packed my bag and headed downstairs. The cook ws preparing my breakfast. Same as the day before. I had it in the restaurant. Then I went to the reception to confirm they had booked my taxi. He confirmed it. So I sat down to wait. The clocked ticked towards 5. And past 5. Then 15 minutes past. The time was getting tight. Especially since I knew security was tight, so there would be much time spent going though search and checks. I asked the receptionist again. He went to the guards to ask if they had seen any taxi. The receptionist came back. "Yes, he came. And left." I felt irritation was growing. "Why didn't you say anything about it coming?" He realized I was getting angry. "Should I order new taxi?" Trying to stay calm I said "Of course! Do you expect me to WALK to the airport?"
He rushed to the reception and called. "Five minutes!" he said. "Yeah right!" I thought. 15 minutes later, one hour before my flight was supposed to leave, a new taxi arrived. I rushed into the taxi, and he took off. He obviously knew I had little time. If the taxi had had a little more horsepower, we would have burned rubber for 200 metres. We zoomed through roundabouts, through crossroads with screaming horns, zipping past other cars with millimeter margins. If a rally world champion had been a passenger, I bet he would have been impressed. 15 minutes later, we were at the airport. First check was for the driver. Next for me. Then the end for the taxi. I walked fast the last bit to the terminal where I was first patted down and had my bags searched, before I got in line for check-in. I saw that all the others had the same tickets as me, so I assumed things were OK. Time inched away as I progressed in the line. Finally I got my boarding pass. Which had to be checked before I was allowed into the waiting hall. Then security check. Which took forever, as they only let 4 and 4 people through at the same time. Finally, I was at the gate. And a few minutes later, they started boarding. I had seat 34F. Window seat. I was happy with that. I boarded and looked at the seat row numbers. 31-32-33... No 34? I showed my boarding card to a attendant. He smiled and shook his head. "Take any seat. So I sat down in row 32 instead. Window seat. Nobody claimed it. And it seemed like many other people had been issued non-exisiting seats...
And this was my beautiful view out the window. Well. At least I got a window seat, knowing that if my view improved, we just lost the right engine...
We even got breakfast...
I had the two muffins, and handed the rest back. Had already had my breakfast, so wasn't really hungry. The muffins were good. Really good.
The noise was tremendous. The engines on the old MD-82 was rrroooouuuuming in my ear the whole trip, so no rest for me. One hour later, we touched down at Kabul airport. We parked and a bus took us to the terminal. Luckily, this time, I had no checked luggage. So I didn't have to wait forever. I just walked straight out and to the parking lot from before. My driver was waiting for me to take me to my host.
I had wanted to get one of the suits that the locals here wear, and my host sent me with a guy to show me a good tailor and to get me a nice suit. It is called a perehan tunban. A two piece suit consisting of a long shirt reaching your knees, and a baggy pair of trousers. The tailor took a dozen measures before he wrote them all down. Wow. I can hardly remember my own pincode... I chose a color, and design, and paid the 1500 afs (~20 USD). It will be finished on sunday. :-)
In the afternoon, my host and everybody with him would be away, so I would either have to stay inside, or venture out on my own. Armed with the instructions for safety from my host, I did. Walked to one of his favorite restaurants in the area. Had a great meal of kababs. Then I just randomly walked around the neighbourhood of my host. Crisscrossing the area. Walking street by street. Watching people, cars, kids playing, shopowners sit at the door. After a few hours, I was tired, thirsty and sweaty. So I walked back to the apartment. My first venture alone. It felt good. And there was a sense in me that if using sensible rules, it is possible to stay safe-ish even in Kabul. Even for a foreigner. Granted, the neighbourhood is among the safest in the city. But still. I didn't bring my camera this time. Just my eyes.
Another day finished without incident. I am almost getting relaxed. Not that I am planning to ignore the rules any day soon...
Ragnar
Chillin' in da hood
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