Poster for 80's Night

There is virtually no entertainment in Islamabad, and certainly no dance clubs.  So I decided to organize and host a “Back to the ’80s” costume and dance party.  The Embassy had a club, and offered to let me use their patio, speakers, amplifier and offered to run an outdoor bar and buffet.

I created a large poster, and pushed the advertising all over the Embassy grounds.

During the weeks leading up to the event, I downloaded ’80s music videos and played them at the club during happy hour.  And then on the day of the party, I was granting Embassy Access requests and saw that 78 foreign diplomats (many Brits) had requested permission to come. Word of anything SAFE and fun spreads like fire here, so my diplomat access list also contained names of Turks, Australians, French, and Kazakhs! I have no idea how a person from Kazakhstan would dress for an ‘80s costume party!   I even got a request from Nick Schifrin who is a reporter for ABC News.

After setting up my DJ station, I went into the club’s bathroom and dressed up for the night.  As I walked back to the dance area, no one recognized me, not even the staff who had been working closely with me for the past hour.  I found a vintage Apple t-shirt on eBay, some rainbow suspenders, a great head of hair, blinding white paints, and some shades.  Perfect ’80s Apple tech geek mixed with that ’80s dance floor hair.

The party was a lot a fun, and we blasted ’80s music until 1:am.  Due to a curfew we had to end the party at that time, but we were able to dance for 6 hours.  What a blast!

my '80s DJ outfit

In addition to Singapore being much closer to Megan, they told me that they want me there as soon as possible, and the State Department has agreed to let me leave here 1 month early and still get my two R&Rs (free vacation trips). I now leave Pakistan in September, 2009.

Singapore – great food, low crime, travel opportunities - should be a fun assignment!  Singapore is one of four remaining true city-states in the world. A city-state is a sovereign nation onto itself, that fits entirely into a city. The other three are Monaco, San Marino and Vatican City. The city is located at the tip of Malaysia, about half way between India and Australia. It’s larger neighbors include Thailand and Indonesia. Vietnam is a two hour flight.

English is the main spoken language, so I will not be getting language training.

Singapore’s economy is close to what the United States had in the early 20th century. Huge exports, while heavy taxes on imports. The bulk on the government’s budget is paid by import and export taxes, so individual income tax is low. It’s ports are one of the busiest in the world, and unemployment stands at 1.7%. Cars are expensive, and driving during business hours is heavily taxed, so it’s internal transportation system is fantastic.

Criminal punishment is quick, and severe, making Singapore one of the world’s safest cities to live in. But they have also criminalized a lot of small things in the interest of keeping the city clean and healthy. Fines are given for spitting in public, all pornography, public drunkenness, sleeping on public property, riding a bike across the street, and many many more. Drug laws are extreme – with death being a popular way to deal with drug dealing and smuggling. First offense. But the city is also ranks at the #1 spot by the UN for not having any slums, and you walk in any area of the city at 3AM with no worry.  Everyone has health care, and unemployment is less than 2%.

The government is a parliamentary democracy, and is a multi-religious country, with a slight majority (51%) practicing Buddhism and Taoism. About 15% practice Christianity, and Muslims constitute 14%. About 15% of the population has declared no religious affiliation. While multi-religious, they have complete freedom of religion, as proselytizing is illegal, including unsolicited distribution of religious materials. The effects of this religious tolerance means that cross-cultural violence is rare, and national holidays include  popular festivals from many religions.

Singaporean cuisine is an example of diversity and cultural mix, with a fusion of Chinese, Indian, Malay and Tamil foods. Chinese food stalls introduce indigenous Malay ingredients or cooking techniques, and Singapore cuisine has been a major tourist attraction. The country has a tropical rain forest climate, and sits just 80 miles north of the equator, so there are no distinct seasons.

I think I could enjoy this place… but as always, I don’t want to get too excited until the wheels are up. Like the military, nothing is absolute until I’m there. But as of today, this is my most likely next assignment.

I immediately look at the clock, which is how I knew it was 4:10 am.   Seeing that the alarm was on, and that I still had almost two hours to go before it would go off, I laid back down and tried to fall asleep.  I did, however, wonder what the click was…  As I started to think more clear, I realized that my electronic alarm clock doesn’t “click” – so something else must have made it.. but what?

It was dead quiet, and totally dark.  4:12 am .. and I’m laying in bed, sprawled out on my back. getting cozy.

Then, it seemed someone had grabbed the foot of my bed and began to rock it forward and back.  It was quite violent; enough to make me think someone was in the room with me – which scared me briefly.   It wasn’t long, maybe 3 seconds later, that I began to realize that “This must be what an earthquake feels like”!  I had never experienced one before, but I had heard on the local news of a minor tremor the night before – which I had slept through.

Now the rocking was quite consistent, back and forth, not side to side.  I held on to the mattresses and enjoyed the ride – waiting to see if it would get worse and if so, I would have to run to the door frame. It didn’t increase.    Back and forth.  Rocking.  I did hear, very slightly, a low base rumble.  It was like someone was driving a train down the road – but the sound was extremely deep and faint.  I live near a steep mountainside so I thought for a moment that a landslide was coming down, but that never happened either.   At that same time all the crows in the trees outside my house took off and began to squawk – if that’s what you call it..  It sounded like Hitchcock’s “The Birds” outside.  Very creepy indeed.

So this short event lasted about 10 to 12 seconds and after a few minutes the event was reported by the USGS as being located in the Hindu Kush region of Afghanistan and there where no reported damage or injuries in Pakistan.

Here’s a link:  http://earthquake.usgs.gov/eqcenter/recenteqsww/Quakes/us2009bkcf.php#details

I wonder how many of these I will get while here?

He has a young boy that is learning English and is quite bright. His school has no computers so they are teaching kids about computers by only reading about them. I’d like to find an old cheap iMac on-line – something in the $50-$75 range and give it to him. Anything is better than nothing at all – and there is no way his family will ever be able to buy any sort of computer. I figure if he can learn to type and use a computer, his chances for job will be a lot better than his dad.

Here’s a fun story.. I have been in this house now for 5 days, and every night I made extra food for my night guard. I have two guards who live in in two of the remaining servants quarters. They cook outside on a nasty grill and have virtually no concept of food sanitation.

So this week I made New Mexican Green Chile Stew (vegan), Spaghetti with home made chunky tomato and mushroom sauce (Vegan), and last night was Southwest Chile made with ground turkey served over green chile corn bread. I gave him a plate and he was so thankful and happy.

Tonight, I told my housekeeper (name withheld for his security) that I was making Southwest Chicken Chowder and would give my guard a bowl.   My housekeeper (who speaks fluent English) told me I should not feed them, because they will not eat anything I make. I told him that have been feeding them all week, and they enjoyed it.  The housekeeper, who knows the guards well from working here before, told me that “no, they throw the food away” but will not refuse my offer because that is rude. I asked him why, and was told that the guards are “old school” and feel that Americans do not eat proper and eat dirty things, so they could never eat our cooking.

Then my housekeeper laughed and said that the guards have no brain, since we buy all our food from the local (Muslim) markets and stores. There is no pork in this country. And then he smiles and says “have you seen how THEY cook? And they call YOU dirty?”

So tonight, just to be sure, I asked my housekeeper to go out and ask the guards if they would eat some Chicken soup, with no pork. I specifically wanted to know if he would throw away my food, and if so, I would not bother feeding him again.  He came back and said that the guard claimed that he would indeed throw my food away, and will never eat anything I cook.  So no New Mexican Southwest Chicken Corn Chowder for them!  Oh – the guards did, however, ask if they could have an extra 500 Rupees ($6.50) a month for tea!

OK, on a better note: Back in August when I got this assignment, I wrote the Embassy and told them that I wanted any sized home as long as it had a big yard for a vegetable garden. So I get here and I am offered this home, which is really quite nice, but it has a huge back yard, in addition to the lush flower gardens in front. There’s also banana, pear and mango trees. So I also hired the Embassies gardener (again, name withheld), and two others to take care of this property. I then told him that I wanted to dig up a portion of my back yard for a large vegetable garden, so that he and I, and our housekeeper’s family can share in the bounty of fresh food. He was shocked at first, but then elated. It seems that I am the first and only American here who has offered to grow food. Everyone else just wants grass and flowers. I had had some seeds with me from the USA, and gave them to him. There is no translation for Acorn Squash or Zucchini in Urdu, as these things are not native, and have never been imported. I will help with those items, I told him. But the Roma tomatoes, Romaine lettuce, sweet corn, carrots, peppers, onions etc.. they all know those!

So I come home two days ago and I see that our large plot has been tilled, and fertilized. But as I get home tonight, I see someone out back working in the dark. It’s the gardener working in the vegi plot. As I walk out I see what they are doing, I see dozens of young plants already in the ground! Winter crops he explains. My seeds are summer crops, so he went out and bought cauliflower, broccoli, radishes, and who knows what else. I have to get the list translated. But he was smiling, and was so happy working in a garden other than flowers.

That’s when I dragged a large box that came in the mail today. I had gone on Ace Hardware’s on-line store and ordered a shiny new set of garden tools, work gloves, and a pruning set. I gave them to him and it was like watching a kid open presents at Christmas. He was so happy and gleaming. As I turned away to head back into the house, he runs up and tells me that he is going to now plant many more flowers around the house and he wanted to show me exactly what he would plant. He opens up a folded booklet of flowers from a local florist and starts to point at dozens of assorted flowers, from pansies to petunias. I told him that I couldn’t afford that many flowers, and he stops me and says that he will get all these from cuttings and extras at the Embassy (read – that any way you wish). “No money” he says. So now I have a very happy gardener who is going out of his way to decorate my yard (like it needs it!), while I’m just happy to have some fresh broccoli. I just hope he can keep the monkeys away! My house is right next to some steep mountain hills, part of the Himalayas just an hour or so from Kashmir.  I have monkeys in my yard and they keep steeling my bananas!

If this country was not in the sad state of affairs it’s in now, this would have been a great assignment for a family.  I wish I could post a Google map of my home, but the threat to my life here is too great to pinpoint exactly where I live.  Crazy place here.

Suicide Hotline -Al-Qaeda style

This was displayed in my office when I arrived.

The Regional Security office (where I work) is filled with Diplomatic Security Agents who constantly research and analyze the security threats around the Embassy and our host country.  They also provide protection to visiting Government personnel.  With all the terrorism here, it is no wonder they have a warped sense of humor, as the following cartoon demonstrates.

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.