Saturday, June 9, 2007

Departure and arrival

I had a mixed feeling while sitting at the Dubai International Airport. On one hand, I was sad that I left Italia. The realization that the year in Bologna was over had made me even more melancholic. On the other hand, however, I was excited to learn about an entirely new culture. After a few hours of delay, they finally called the Kabul flight. With a boarding pass in my hand, I then completely realized that I was going to a country that has received so much negative coverage over the last several decades. My expectations were primarily shaped by the mainstream belief that Afghanistan is a dangerous and hectic place. Having checked into the waiting lounge, I overheard a few european expatriates talking about their previous experiences with the country. I was happy to hear that their stories have not been too bleak. So, boarding the plane, I felt the natural excitement of going to yet another country.

Upon a few hours in the air, we were finally landing at around 8:30 p.m. Whenever I arrive in a new place, my curiosity always leads me to stare outside the window of an airplane to see the surroundings from a low altitude. This time it was different. With almost absolute darkness underneath our plane, I felt for a moment that the plane was landing straight into the ocean. How can it be that a city of almost 3 million residents has almost no lights? Well, I soon discovered that Afghanistan was almost like a different world. After stepping on the ground and especially coming from Dubai, I saw that life has been taken away from the Kabul International Airport. It was dark, and I could barely see a few planes parked in the distance. As ironic as it sounds, the whole place seemed tranquil, and I could perfectly see the stars hanging over me. It was pleasant to feel a cool breeze in the air.

People at the passport control stand didn't ask me a single question. After picking up my luggage, I ended up outside, near the parking lot. The lot was competely lifeless and dark. All the passengers seemed to rush away with people who greeted them or on their own. I attempted to ask a passing lady if she knew where I could make a phone call from a public phone as I expected someone from our office to pick me up. She ignored me as if I tried to sell her hashish. A few munites later, I was happy to spot an old man who held a piece of paper in his hands with my name written on it. As soon as I told him that I was the person he was looking for, he yanked one of my three bags. I let him do it without hesitation as I was quite exhausted. We jumped into his old Toyota and I heard him swear in Dari as he gave some Afghanis to the man standing at the exit of the parking lot if one could call it a parking lot at all.

As we cruised through the city and I saw armed people with Kalashnikovs on virtually every corner, I asked my driver about the security situation. With a smile on his face, he told me that the primary targets are military convoys and high level politicians. He told me that Kabul was safe. When we arrived in our house surrounded by high walls and barbed wire, I was glad to make it in one piece and without hearing any bombings or grenade explosions. I definitely felt, however, that I was in an entirely different environment.

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