I've seen sunrise in Kuwait and the half moon over palms in Bagdhad. Drunk Turkish coffee in a small shop and chai made for us by staff. Heat- the sky seems almost white with the heat, not the clear blue I am used to from my deserts. Sand and dust everywhere. And doves in the trees. A formerly feral dog who looks like a large, blonde coyote and now hangs around the base and a skinny feral cat. I enjoy the heat and often eat outside. One of the other rookies thinks I am crazy.
I won't write much, if anything, about mission. The stakes are high for people here and even an inadvertant slip could give away an identity. Which is sad, because in just a week there have been so many stories. So many small precious moments that I am afraid I will forget. Someone once wrote that the ten best stories of all time were lost forever because they were told to patrons of an Irish pub and no one remembered them in the morning.
This is just another example of the envelope I have been pushing all my life. Just as things settle, as I start seeing the world as a normal place, feel an attachment to all other people I'm compelled to run off and learn more about some odd corner of the universe. To learn things that will once again make my friends in their civilized lives seem a little alien and separate. That's not a bad thing, I love them just as much and relish the difference. Besides, if I don't go play on the edge and bring back the stories, who will?
Still getting my routine down- work, workout, read, write, language, culture. I'd forgotten how much time I would feel compelled to spend staying in contact.
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