Day 21: Road rage

Well, it took a few weeks to finally see one, but today was the day. An SUV collided with another vehicle and pedestrians were caught in the way.

On my way back from a local "staging area," we came upon a group of people (including Afghan National Police) who had gathered following an automobile accident. It was bad, but not the worse that I've seen. And the police were doing their part in keeping things from getting out of hand.

With one side of the road essentially blocked, traffic started coming straight at us instead. Odd I thought, but it is Afghanistan ... where anything can happen on the road.

In all honesty, I was more than a little surprised it took this long to come up on a collision. There are no rules of the road here and people, cars, troops, trucks, heavy equipment and everything else just mixes in the streets. It's chaotic at best, and a death trap at worst. On several occasions my driver had to slam on the breaks -- the tires letting loose with a squeal each time.

They drive extremely, EXTREMELY offensively. I'd like to say I'm used to hit, having lived in some similar places before, but it still takes time.

It was 110 in the shade today; so if you want to drop a few pounds, you may want to schedule a trip when things are safe enough. Though I hear Dubai, Qatar and Kuwait reach the 140s.

Wild Art: Photography

Mud walls are the norm, with internal structures dividing up living space. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Rocks outline territory, whether family or village owned. Select this photo and you'll see an Afghan National Army troop standing guard on the small hill to the left. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The mule came first, then a motorcycle and then a U.S. armored vehicle. Select this photo and you'll notice the up-armored HMMWV to the right and Afghan National Army light vehicle on the hill for security. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Wooden doorways and window frames fill out the typical mud and brick home. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Day 20: Laundry day

Like I said before, it's the simple things that will get you through living and working in Afghanistan. Fridays are for laundry, which takes up a good portion of the afternoon. And as long as time is slipping by smoothly, life isn't bad here.

I also took the time to help three others build bunk beds for their small piece of paradise. Anything to create the appearance of more room in their -- room.

It's twisted, but I kind of like being able to stand in the center of my "estate" and turn on the lights, computer, poor green tea or shave without ever moving. If I could high jump five feet, I'd also be able to launch myself into bed without moving.

It's another hot one, I'm thinking three digit range again. Nearly bought a watch that provides the temperature too, but after misreading the price tag (I thought it said $275), I decided against the purchase. The 275 I saw was actually in Euros, so the price was closer to $400.

We're not allowed to drink here (among other things), which doesn't bother me even a little. But watching our French counterparts partake in an adult beverage or two kind of had me wondering what a nice cold Corona would taste like in 110 degree heat.

Day 18-19: Playing catch up

When you take time out of the week to visit operations outside "home base," it tends to put you behind the power curve so to speak. Day 18-19 for me were days I used to play catch up -- which I did nicely.

As there's only a limited number of choices to entertain yourself here, you find work a viable option to do just that. In the end, it doesn't seem much like work anymore but a more of a way of life here, of focusing on something other than being away from home, family and friends. For me, it's not having options to attend professional sports events, see a movie in town or travel openly.

It's living in such situations that you realize just how well you have it back home. Things you thought important really aren't here.

Day 17: Driving course

Training the ANA isn't about control, it's about ensuring they have the ability to train themselves. In the end, the program hopes to develop a self-sufficient, professional army. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The training is difficult as drivers are taken over the course, dry and rocky terrain of Afghanistan. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

It was an exhausting day, but not due to any one reason. It was more the combination of three-digit heat, being on the move over rough country all day and trying to adapt to the 6,000-foot altitude in which we operate.

Much of the morning was taken up by visiting the driving course for ANA regulars. The ride there comes with the gratuitous bumps and ruts in the road, large rocks and clouds of dirt from vehicles in front of you. Should "dirt" replace oil as the global fuel that runs nations, the quality of life here would sore overnight.

There's thousands of acres of dirt and rock used by the ANA for training out here -- you can literally see for miles (through the dirty haze in some cases). It is, I think, a perfect place to teach the ANA who are quite comfortable among the rocks and dirt of the landscape. Here they learn to drive armored vehicles which, in the wrong hands, can be quite dangerous on poor terrain.

The ANA seems eager enough to learn and advisers/mentors have assured me they're improving. It'll just take time which, out here looking over the vast emptiness, seems to be all we have.

In the afternoon we made a trip to the "mother camp" in Kabul proper. The ride always reminds me of driving in S. Korea, Turkey or Honduras -- there seems to be no traffic rules and the biggest car or truck typically gets its way. The number of fatalities on the roads here must be high, though that's just an educated guess.

It's nice to see the children walking home from school and small businesses open. There's a relatively "normal" economy taking shape here, but much more needs to be done to ensure stability so that their economy can flourish. If the coalition has the strength of will, Afghanistan can and will succeed as a democracy.

Day 16: Mondays are painful

Mondays in Afghanistan, so it seems, are as boring as those in states. This, even though my Mondays are really Tuesday by my work week since I have off half a day Thursday and all day Friday (the Muslim work week so I'm told).

In any case, there was little going on in my world this Monday. And when that's the case, eating and working out take on a new level of importance. In fact, I'm due to head to the gym in 15 minutes.

It is important to note, at least for me, that I now sleep through the night and wake refreshed. I find it odd how fabulous the weather is knowing the serious nature of the business here.

Day 15: Sheenza Wer

Abdullah Rauf, at left, requests help for his ailing eyes. Our "terp" suggests he gets glasses. Select this photo and check out the troops in the background providing security. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

The young girl, at left, takes care of her younger brother and then asks me for a cigarette. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

Afghanistan is full of irony; here an elderly gentleman sits outside a mud home with a new motorcycle parked nearby. Select this photo and check out the licence plate on the bike ... some things never change. (Photo by G. A. Volb)

It was a 40-minute or so trip east of "home base" toward Jalalabad. The village, Sheenza Wer, is home to some 400 folks. It's a newly built village the residents of which are in need of the customary medical care, wells and clothing among other things. My understanding is they were mostly Pakistani and moved into the area some two or three years ago.

It sits in a valley surrounded by small mountains and rolling hills; had it included some trees and/or snow, one could argue it looked a lot like Utah. But it didn't, and the rock and dirt and mud homes ensured everyone making the trip didn't confuse it for a resort stateside.

Afghanistan is full of irony: a mud home with a motorcycle propped up next to it; an outdoor kiln with a brand new Toyota pickup truck being loaded with bricks; dark, deep creviced faces under Arizona Diamondback baseball caps, and a donkey replacing a four-wheeler at the local store.

A four-year old asked me for a cigarette -- though probably not to smoke herself, but to sell. At least I'm hoping that was the case.

The mud homes are built within high walls of, yes, more mud. They're smooth walls and quite sturdy as the winters are harsh here. I'm impressed by what Afghans can do with mud. Each wall sits next to a large hole in the ground that was dug up to make the walls.

An old gentlemen stopped by to talk with our medic; our "terp," short for interpreter, said the old man complained he had a hard time seeing. When asked how old he was, the gentleman replied, "Ninety-five."

At which time our "terp" said, "You are very old, that's why you can't see as well as before. You should use glasses."

Which the old man responded with, "I'm not old enough for glasses."

There were a lot of back aches --- from lugging around rock and dirt; sore or broken ribs, headaches, sleep deprivation etc. They all seemed in relatively good spirits though, especially the children who, like anywhere in the world, were busy running around seeing what trouble they could get themselves into.

Looking out over the valley there was a healthy mix of U.S., British and Afghan troops securing the area. The big event for the day -- humanitarian "give-aways" including sandles, jeans, shirts, blankets and asorted other clothing. It was a good day.

Day 14: Stressless Saturday

So, my second Saturday came and went uneventfully. I'm realizing my life here revolves are three things: eating, working and hitting the gym. The latter to take care of the former -- as the diet, as I've said before, isn't conducive to keeping wait off you unless you watch it closely.

The is simply because the high calorie diet offered is to keep the mission fueled.

I'm find myself looking forward to work and focusing on that more than anything else. Simply put, there's not much in my control here other than those couple of outlets, so you do what you can to get by.

For whatever reason, I feel like I've been here for longer than two-plus weeks. Not in a bad way, it's just that time and days seem to melt into one another.