Leaving Kabul just days before Afghanistan’s vital and potentially bloody elections may be a great relief for most expats. For me the departure though was much more bitter than sweet. Continue reading
When you’ve spent every October of your life surrounded by the burnt glory of falling leaves tossed on cool autumnal winds in Vermont the toasty sun washed days of Afghanistan can be a bit disorienting. The differences obviously don’t end there. Exiting Kabul International Airport, you are faced with a bit of a walk through a nearly empty plaza, spotted along the edges with Kabul’s distinct evergreen police trucks. This is the first reminder that you are in a less than secure nation. You may witness other foreign nationals being greeted by shiny SUVs and burly bodyguards whose pistols are hardly concealed in their pants waistband. Some may quickly wrap their charges in bulletproof vests before hustling them into the vehicles.