After the FACT Training, I headed home to visit my family in Vermont and New Hampshire.  After a week, I flew back to Washington to catch my flight to London, where I’ll spend two days resting.  My office partner in Islamabad warned me that the pace was very high in Islamabad, and I had better get rested up before arrival.  I’m took her advice!

I had a good time in in London, and took in two plays; Chicago and Lion King. I also downed a ton of street food in the West End, and drank a bit too much cider and mulled wine. It was quite cool here – with that damp air that bites through your clothes. After I landed at Heathrow I took a train downtown to Paddington Station. As soon as I left the train and walked the streets, I was struck by the air that has that characteristic London smell – a base of diesel, mixed with ginger, soy and frying oil. Then add some fresh fruit from the open fruit stands and a splash of tandori, doner kebap, fried fish and chocolate. Mix it with a lot of humidity and a light misty rain and add some floating cigarette smoke and you have the perfume of London. Mmmm. After 3 days I boarded Pakistani Air and flew off to Islamabad.

What a trip. There were 3 white dudes on a packed 777 full of people who look like the guys you see on TV blowing themselves up. It’s hard not to stereotype, so when when three guys got up at the same time and stood next my seat for no apparent reason I took my headphones off and unbuckled my seat belt. They then waited… and waited…. until someone came out of the bathroom and then the three guys became two. I didn’t sleep on that trip.

Dinner was either a “Pakistani” dinner or “Chicken or Beef”. I asked, and was told the Paki meal was chicken curry. I looked up and saw an old lady, maybe 70, enjoying it, so in the spirit of adventure I ordered the Pakistani meal. The tray had chicken curry, white rice, and some sort of custard pudding. Oh yeah.. a regular bread roll too. Before I braved the curry I decided to play it safe and eat some rice. My God! The plain white rice was hotter than New Mexican jalapeños! My mouth was burning and I downed a full can of coke to little effect. I rubbed my tongue on the bread and forgo the rest of the meal. How can any human eat stuff that hot? The “hot” Indian / Pakistani food you find in the U.S.A. must leave a lot of Pakistanis disappointed.

As soon as the wheels hit the pavement, and the plane was careening at over 150 miles an hour down the runway, everyone jumped up, grabbed their stuff from the overhead compartments and ran to the door. The mob in the isles was unreal. The plane was still speed along and at every bump, the crowd would sway over and crush people in their seats. You could just make out the faint voice of a steward politely asking passengers to “remain in their seats until the captain turns the seat-belt light off”. Not a chance in Hell.

When we got to the terminal, the luggage belt was way too short, so after about 1 minute it was full of suitcases, bags, boxes, loose clothing and the occasional kitchen appliance – which must have escaped from the various grocery bags torn to shreds on the belt. Then the belt would jam, and we waited for several minutes for it to start moving again, only to repeat the whole thing over and over again. It took an hour to get my first suitcase, and another 20 minutes for the second. Meanwhile everyone (over 300) was crowded around the small belt three rows deep, trying to get a view of their belongings. My case made two trips around before I could get it off the belt. To make this more exciting, smoking was allowed in the terminal so the room, with no ventilation, was a wretched collection of body odor and cigarettes. How I longed for the pleasure of that London smell again.

I finally made it to Islamabad. Due to the recent increase in terrorism here, no one is allowed to stay in hotels. Therefore I have been put into a large 5 bedroom house with two other diplomats until my permanent house is vacated by the outgoing FSO. That should be around the middle of November.

The Embassy is situated in a large diplomatic compound, well set back from the main roads, and houses many Embassies from the Indians to the Brits.

I talked to the current occupant of my permanent home today.   He said it will be about a 20 minute ride to work. It is situated in some beautiful hills north of the city, and is quite a large place with a good sized back yard. The servants quarters are attached to the back of the house, and have 5 separate rooms. I gave two rooms to my armed security guards so they can live in the safety and comfort of my home compound. Otherwise they would have to live out in a rural village, with no electricity or heat. Having them stay here when off duty also gives me the added firepower should I need it – and gives them additional incentive to protect the property. I have no fear that a criminal would dare try to break into my house. The guards are each armed with shotguns which they carry all the time. However, I keep a watchful eye out for terrorism, and make sure I am an unattractive and difficult target. I want them to give up on me and search for easier pray – some other fool, less concerned for their own safety than I am.

I also will have a nice chef and his wife as a housekeeper, whom I will I hire for 2 days a week. They were working at the residence for several years and I will also let them stay in two other servant rooms for free, which they really appreciated. They have a small baby and needed a place to stay as their other home is being demolished.

The Embassy transports me around in an up-armored vehicle for safety.  Getting to/from work should be fine.

My boss has a with a thick Boston accent and is an avid Red Sox fan. My coworkers are quite nice too, and none are workaholics. I think I’ll get along great with these folks.

I think I’ll stay home this weekend, and if nothing dramatic happens by next week, I want to head to a local market and price some Persian carpets. I’ll post some pics, as soon as I get a camera! Megan took ours to Fiji with her.