The Hulk Smash of Knowledge

The best way to explain your job in a warzone is to embellish as much as possible.

Navy Customs? Well, I mean, it’s pretty much exactly completely the same as SWAT. At least for sure the part about kicking doors down. I definitely do that on a regular basis--with people’s dreams. Seriously, guys I’m not going to say it again. There are no grenades allowed in your carry-on. (Sadly, this is not made up. Mostly. Ok fine, I made up the grenade part.)

Obviously, this sounds like the most fun ever. So I joined.

Have you heard of Rambo? Cus I’m kind of like that. But with textbooks. I just like hulk smash people with knowledge.

That’s actually on my resume. Under Special Skills.

Cold & Disappointed

I’m smart. Really.

Just because one time, I was super excited that a car had the exact same license plate as my mom’s car—seriously! once in a lifetime sighting—does not mean I’m not smart. Maybe.

I had the opportunity to go to Washington D.C. last March. Not wanting to waste any days and mostly because the “snow storm to end all snow storms” was really just rain, I decided to brave the streets of D.C. and visit the White House.

Hmmm…

Rather small. Very white. Why am I the only one here besides armed men? I could slip through this fence. Why is it so small? I must be lost. This is not the White House.

Overall, I was immensely disappointed by the White House. Also really cold.

The next day, I visited the Capitol. And realized, the Capitol was not the White House.

Dangit.

I blame Hollywood. Can we be clear on our location the next time someone tries to take over D.C.? Ok thank you.

Gentlemen Only; Ladies Forbidden

Gentlemen  Only Ladies Forbidden. My feminist side cringes at this acronym. Then I remember that this is the most boring game ever and applaud the brilliant woman who thought of it. Serious.

A New, Enjoyable Game Formerly Known as Golf

1. Attempt to jump the river. Via golf cart.

2. Measure the water’s depth…

3. …in order to hit the ball from underwater

4. Catch tadpoles

5. Push someone into the water.

Like a boss.

Despite All Warnings

So the best part about my job is that roughly every 3 months I get a vacation. This time—despite all warnings to not do this—I decided to go back to the states. Apparently, any homesickness I had developed spread to include all of America, which is why I found myself sitting on an airplane for over 24 hours. 

So here’s a post about airplanes. Mostly. Ok but its only because military planes are so different than normal planes. Like when someone stands up before the flight to check that there are medics aboard. Or when the safety brief includes desert survival skills. Uhm can we just go back to learning how to click a seat belt?

And sometimes they let you sleep on the floor.

I’ve also now gotten on and off a plane in almost every way possible. I’m only missing jumping out and jumping in. One of which I’m thinking is impossible.

Being on a military plane is also just about the same as being on a roller coaster. This last time the pilot who was either new or stupid—I suppose it’s possible that they were just doing their job having a good time—took an extremely sharp turn. For a good 30 seconds I couldn’t even lift my arm up. Pretty much best plane ride ever.

Finally, people cheer for you. Which if you aren’t military, like myself, is pretty much the most awkward thing to ever happen. However, the amazing people in New Hampshire show up for every single military flight to either welcome the military home or send them off. People shake your hand and tell you thank you and give you candies. Veterans tell their story and they salute the military members in thanks. I don’t know if there is a better way to welcome those serving our country home than to drive through a snowstorm to let them know that their sacrifice is appreciated.  It’s also a lot harder to chicken out and ditch the plane back when a bunch of people cheer you down the walkway. Granted, a volunteer did try to stop me but that was mostly because he thought I was there with my parents since school was canceled. 

My feet don't touch the ground :/

Am I Wearing Pantz?

A lot of times, my blog focuses on the many things that Afghanistan is missing. But I don’t generally talk about the things that Afghanistan offers—mainly because the perks are few and far between. But that being said there are some pretty cool things about living here.

Cool things about Afghanland:

The food is not only free; it’s also all you can eat. Good luck.

Recently developed housing that also comes furnished.

Air Conditioning. Year round.

Cashmere scarves for $10

Danger Pay and Crappy Living Pay.

Personal Trainers. Oh heyoo American tax dollars! Jaykay! I’m on a NATO base so Europe pays for it. (I’m pretty sure but I can’t actually verify the validity of this fact. Don’t hate. I pay taxes too. And I’m now in great shape so thank you for your donation.)

A rather disproportionate ratio of men to women. Which is totally cool with me. Until of course, you combine my gym time and the disproportionate number of men to women. At which point this scenario occurs—

This really happens everywhere, but the gym is probably the number one place to get stared down. Possibly because I workout in shorts or possibly because I work out at the European gym and Europe seems to be more lax in the staring department. Either way I’m developing anxiety.

Jessica’s Stream of Consciousness Upon Getting Checked Out

Check for pants. Check for shirt. Touch shorts to double-check that they are indeed on my body. Look down to ensure all clothing hasn’t disappeared. Recheck for shirt. Is there toilet paper stuck on my shoe? Did I sit in mustard? Am I wearing pants? What are you looking at? Tell me!

Literally, this happens every time. Unless it’s a car that is driving unusually slow by me in which case I reevaluate my chances at the Olympic event of speed walking because I’m clearly walking 20 kph. They’re not being weird; I’m just that fast. Winner.

Please don’t think I’m trying to brag about how I’m really awesome (I am awesome.) but remember there is a pretty big lack of females on base. And finally, I’m not looking for compliments. Some of those stares look down right hostile and would make you think you sat in mustard too. Also, I may or may not be traumatized from an 8^th grade Halloween experience of “sitting in Ketchup”.

#Olympics2016 #Brazil

Germany and My Slightly Large Obsession with Food

Stop #2: Germany or more commonly known as the country of Schnitzel and happiness

If I ever develop an eating disorder— and we’re talking the rather obese, 1000 lb, weight watcher’s dream type of eating disorder—then I blame Afghanland. Because I have never thought about delicious food more than right before I left.

And then I landed in Germany and proceeded to eat the country.

Really though.

It was like complete shock that they had things like bread and cheese and milk and deliciousness. My first meal I ordered practically one of everything because I couldn’t decide and anything that said “kase” meant it had cheese and I just really missed cheese. 

Poor Liz, my travel buddy, was all embarrassed and kept saying things like, "Girl, I was like that the first time I left too..." or "For real? You really just stole some old guy's lunch?"

Then I got super sick, which most likely rescued me from a future as the next Biggest Loser. Which is actually to bad because Dolvett is a gorgeous man. 

I was also able to visit the Dachau concentration camp in Munich. If you ever have a chance to visit Germany I highly recommend visiting here. The site has a sacred spirit about it—not to mention the history and lessons embedded within its walls—and is one of the most moving places I have ever been. Oh also go read “No News from Auschwitz” as it is one of my favorites.

Another recommendation—since I am giving such excellent advice—take a river cruise. Probably best travel method of ever. I also would recommend going with Sheryl since she is great fun. But you’ll most likely have to schedule this in advance as she does have a real job. Or so she says.

Pictures will accompany this post but not till tomorrow since the internet in my bhut will not accomodate things like uploading. 

A bazillion and a half bikes.

Mark Twain visited Germany once upon a time and wrote a hilarious essay making fun of their language. Apparently, he stayed here while writing said hilarity and in honor the Germans keep a rather creepy mannequin of him in the house. 

Kind of Like Checking Into Prison

I always have these ideas of grandeur about updating my blog. And then I’m in London and told I can ride the train for as many times as I want and well even the best laid plans… But now I’m back in the trainless, treeless land, so yay!

Stop #1: Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan or more commonly known as the country that doesn’t exist

I was stuck in Bishkek for about three days—three perfect, beautiful days. I’d say it was the sunshine, stunning nature, and lack of work but let’s be honest—there were a lot of marines there. And I mean a lot.

Checking into the Bishkek airport was kind of how I imagine checking into prison would be. But with more metal detectors. And Asians that speak Russian and are most likely part of the mafia. And random backwards scans. That stopped me every time. Because of a compass. Kyrgyzstan did not understand. Finally, they convinced themselves it was some fancy type of watch—or at least that is what I assume happened—and let me through.

Another fun fact? Ok! Lines are lame—everyone push their way to the front. Also if traveling with a puppy feel free to let it run amuck. And please hand all screaming babies to complete strangers. 

Dummy Cording

In non-typical Jessica fashion, I was prepared to leave Afghanistan two days early. I had packed. Everything had been mailed. All I needed to do was wait--and not get arrested. Or lose my ID.

In typical Jessica fashion, I lost my ID, which is only important if you’re planning on flying to Germany.  Or, you know, ever leaving the base. Since the number of lost items increased by a thousand percent in the last two days an annoyed understanding friend suggested I try dummy cording.

Dummy Cording—Tying a thick rope (he said 550 cord but let’s be honest—no one knows what that is) around your waist and hooking everything you lose onto it. Like a fanny pack—without the pack.

Meaning I’d be able to lose everything at once instead of little by little. Thanks, but that is really just a terrible idea.

Also I’d just like to point out to all those that are shaking their head thinking about how not surprised they are (which is probably most everyone) I only lost my ID twice in 8 months. Yea, amazing.

Also someone returned it! And I’m in Kyrgyzstan—the country that isn’t real.

Taking Tests

A coworker of mine failed his sexual harassment training—5 times. Insisting that the test really was incredibly difficult, he demanded I take it. In fact, he was so confidant that I’d fail he agreed to a bet. I agreed because well sexual harassment seems pretty straightforward to me.

If I pass with an 80% or higher Coworker buys me a White Chocolate Smoothie.

If I score less than 80% I must buy Coworker Popeye’s chicken.

The smoothie was delicious!

Note: Despite him passing after we encouraged him to choose the opposite of what he thought was right, he really does not harass us. Usually.

Working Hard

Conducting experiments. Ew.

Putting the smallest person behind a giant sign is always a good plan

Attack of the Birds

This is a native Afghanland bird. 

Just like the one that flew into my really skinny and escape routeless office. I flipped out. And grabbed the closest weapon—a J. Crew bag. 

Bring it on bird. 

I then proceeded to run screaming from my office. Don’t judge me. That bird totally had diseases. And/or is a demon. My survival mode equals selfish and Edita—who was also smart enough to run screaming for her life—was the only person quick enough to make it in Ed Center’s only room with a door before I slammed and barricaded it. The boys chased the bird back outside and then convinced Edita and myself that it was safe to come out. I spent the rest of the day Lysoling my office.

13 days till Europe, Schnitzel, and hostels. 

How Am I Still Here?!

4 days ago I was supposed to be in Germany. I’m not. I decided to extend 5 days before and changed my departure to Sept 10^th.

How This Decision Totally Mixed Me Up and Made Me Depressed and Grumpy

       1.    I already counted down. I can’t just add links back to my paper chain.

       2.     I made plans—of all the really delicious food I want to eat. The DFAC did not get the memo.  

       3.     Really I checked out about the same time I made the decision to stay. Working is now difficult.

       4.     I got bit by a bug.

A Variety of Countdowns

       1.     CS6 Trial—21 days remaining 

       2.     Pack one pair of socks every day

       5.     42 lunches/dinners remaining, which equals one week of work in the normal world or 3.5 days of    work for me. Sooo really, I only have 17.5 days left!

Honestly, I’m glad I stayed I’m just having trouble deciding that I’m going to survive the next 21 days. But a friend promised to show me all the cool things in Bagram. Like the dog kennels!

The Dryer Monster

Lately, I’ve been missing pretty much all my socks. I thought the dryer monster was gettin’ greedy. Or maybe the laundry guys just thought that my socks were swell and not giving them back. Tonight I put clean sheets on my bed.

There is more that fell down the crack

Oh, that’s right—I just sleep in socks. Or try too. My bad, laundry guys, my bad!

Joke's On You

So somehow I managed to convince my boss that I have some crazy amazing design skills. I don't. He hasn't caught on to that yet though and so the latest "design" project he's asked me to complete is a Certificate of Appreciation for employees leaving Afghanistan. I'm leaving. Next. Clearly, he was really trying to secretly ask me to give myself an award. As such I took the liberty of writing a thank you note to me. From my coworkers. 

Click to see larger! (Maybe?)

The Olympics: Is Afghanistan Doing a Worse Job Than NBC?

I’m not really sure what the problem is, but the coverage of the Olympics here in Afghanistan has been really shoddy. For real. Every day I go to the DFAC and I just hope that they’ll be showing some great Olympic event. Any event? Go ahead and ruin it and tell me who wins the gold! A commercial? And everyday I’m greeted by all three TV’s playing baseball. Which I'm not even sure counts as a sport. 

Proof That It Is Not: In one of my classes we were reading the Great Gatsby and it references the 1919 World Series. Being the super great teacher, I did some research to see if anyone really had tried to cheat and rig the series just as Fitzgerald was claiming. Someone did so I got really excited. And there I am, knee deep in my explanation of how indeed, this really did happen—zomg! So cool, huh?!—when a student interrupts. “The World Series of Poker has been around for that long?”

See? Baseball doesn’t even exist in Vegas. Thus it is not a sport--play me some Olympics! After all, they're pretty much the entire reason we invented TV in the first place. 

Moment to Brag: Pretty sure my fantasy baseball team is winning. I can’t log into ESPN to check however, so I can neither prove nor disprove said statement.

Apology: I really do love baseball. It’s America’s pastime. I just think if you’re going to skip the world’s greatest athletes competing for the title of “Best Eva (for the next four years)” then you need to play an “on TV” exciting sport in lieu of said amazingness. 

Yea, they invented TV so we can all watch the Olympics. Trust me. I've been there.

Hot Dog Eating Contests

Today as we were leaving the DFAC we ran into one of the AFN radio announcers. She asked us to participate in a Hot Dog Eating Contest. We had 5 minutes to eat as many hot dogs as possible and…

I won!

Ha! Just kidding! I only ate almost 2. I did manage to give away one of my hot dogs so technically 3. The guy sitting next to me was the winner. He ate 4.5. Ew. 

The Winner!

Pre-eating--Sheryl wasn't quite this happy once she felt like throwing up. 

Paper Chain Countdowns

Heads up America—tomorrow is a great day! I know because in Afghanland tomorrow is here.

Reason. Sheryl made me a paper chain countdown with 17 links for an exciting event that is happening at the Ed Center. Oh hey vague statement—unfortunately I can’t tell you what that event is because it’d be rude. And possibly really mean. I can tell you though that today, thanks to a series of fortunate events—like time—there is only one link left. Oh my heck, I know! Excitement. So the countdown is over. And today is great.

Side Note—I bought grey shirts. 1 pack, 3 shirts. They’re cute. They’re new. Yea I’ve maybe worn the same (but different!) shirt for the past 3 days. People are starting to ask questions. 

Final Note--I just found out the Chinese don't really have cheese. How do they survive?

The happiest anyone at the Ed Center has ever been

Ready for the near beer celebration. Tastes terrible :/

Last of the paper chain countdown!

Proof of Legit-ity

Happy Birthday to my great dad! Another year older, another year wiser—we hope! If you happen to be in the Logan area give him a hug for me.

So I have a pretty legit family. Serious. Evidence proving this statement follows.

A while ago I was complaining that I couldn’t buy perfume since it contains alcohol and you can’t ship alcohol to Afghanistan military bases—unless you’re Polish and then you get an entire bar. Shortly after my complaint every one and their dog informed me to just use Amazon. Yea knew that—just trying to be funny. My brother, however, sent me a letter. It contained ripped out sheets of perfume samples with this note:

Anywho…since I’m such a rebel & not part of the system, I smuggled you 3 days worth of Nordstrom perfume samples.

TAKE THAT GOVERNMENT! YOU DON’T OWN ME!

They smell pretty good, but are borderline old-lady perfume (which is coming back into style might I add)

That’s my brother—a mutineer with a "tot’s fab" sense of fashion.

The whole family is this witty.

Still don’t believe me—join us for dinner.  Be prepared to play our family made game of LAMPSHADE!

On another note, I love getting letters out here. So, if you are bored write me a letter—I’ll send you a postcard in return! Fair trade? Yes!

Don’t Trust the Broccoli Soup

Why does the bathroom smell like Broccoli Soup. Not even kidding. I miss normal person bathrooms.

Afghanland bathrooms are metal storage containers. Lock combinations to keep out the creepers, which makes things difficult if you really have to go. Don’t touch the floor. I forgot my shower shoes once and had to shower in socks. I threw them away. They touched the floor. 

Then there are the porta-potties.

Hey ‘merica,

Good luck scrubbing the mud off your a55! :)

♥

The Taliban

Real cool, guys. Real cool. (Those are footprints.)

Dear T-ban,

We X’ed you out. :)

Xoxo

America

Toilets you can stand on

Bathroom related signs—

These previous four signs are from one bathroom. I don't even want to know. 

Shower Socks

Thursday’s lunch is soup. 

 Do not trust the Broccoli Soup

Trains, Planes, and Cars

About two weeks ago I went to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates because I had a crazy bad toothache. It was great fun. And also kinda sucked since I did have to visit the dentist and I like them about as much as I’d like to have my toes chopped off.

Dubai Adventure:

1. We need to rename the toothache to some terrible, fingernails on chalkboard-esque word.

Toothache Pain Scale Pre-toothache Experience:

10 – Bumped funny bone

5 – Toothache

1 – Scraped knee

Cure: Apply Pressure.

Thoughts: Suck it up and stop acting like you just birthed a child.

Actual Pain Scale of a Toothache:

10 – Chinese Water Torture

5 – Toothache

1 – Gunshot wound

Cure: Morphine

Thoughts: #@!% and other such obscenities.

Clearly, the word toothache just doesn’t wholly comprise that type of excruciating pain. A rename is needed.

2. I’d like to apologize. I was previously under the impression that it was part of a taxi driver’s job to know major locations within the city. My mistake. The drivers all asked me for directions. Do I turn here? Uhm any beach will do just drive in the general direction of water. Maybe, Dubai, we should consider ensuring drivers know how to get to a few general places. Nothing to crazy—just maybe the Dubai Mall, beach, and airport.

3. Apparently Mexican, French, and Swedish equals Afghani. I think everyone in Dubai asked if I was from Afghanistan. Pre-telling that I worked there. Guess its good to know I can blend in if needed. Although burkas seem to have the same effect.

4. I had the opportunity to stay in an amazingly nice 5 star hotel. Cool huh? Agreed. One night I didn’t want to leave my room to search for food. I decided to order room service something I’d previously never done.

·      I think they had to unscrew the wall sign in order to get me a menu

·      The man wouldn’t let me take the tray at the door. My room was messy and I got embarrassed. So I tried to close the door and clean it up real quick.

·      The lasagna was Shepherd’s Pie.

5. A few other things that happened. I walked about 4 miles in the crazy hot heat because I didn’t think it was important to tell my bank I’d be in another country. Turns out it is. A kind man from the gas station I asked directions at rescued me. I missed my airplane. Technically there was still an hour before it took off but the girl was following rules. Boo. I ate Lebanese food and it is soo amazing. Try it. I made friends with a girl from Canada and a guy from Jordan. They’re pretty cool.

Since being back I’ve moved to a real office and been given an avocado and a scarf. Yay Afghanland! 

Room Service :)

Afghanistan

From the air--this is what I breathe in everyday

Doc Holladay, Me, Edita, Sheryl
wearing our new scarves!