And the Red Heels Go "Click."

I'd like to go home now. I'm kind of over it. But hey, just about three and a half more months left, and I'll be back home... doing whatever it was that I was doing before.

(nothing.)

but yeah. it's not too bad here. The work schedule sucks, 12 hour days, six days a week, and the job is pretty fast paced and stressful, plus I'm in charge of troops, so I have to take care of them and make sure they're doing what they need to do.

actually, being in charge of people is half the stress of the job. Once I got that down, everything kind of just fell in place. the teaching and coaching experience really helped me here.  along with my natural penchant to swear and mock things.

I'm supposed to go downrange soon. You know, head to some other sunny undisclosed location, carry a gun, etc etc.

but whatever. 3 1/2 more months.

and honestly, time has been flying by here. long days, short weeks. before I know it, this will all be a memory. so i'm trying to take it all in, learn as much as i can from this experience, because I know, one day, when i'm 50, i'll look back and be like "remember when i was deployed to shitfuckistan? yeah, that was like a watershed moment in my 20s."

life changing moments are hard to come by, I guess.

"Downtown, lights will be shining, on me, like a new diamond."

I can't find my wallet.

After registering in DBIDS, getting my JPAS from my unit security manager, going to the CAC and going to or receiving or filling out a bunch of acronyms, I got to go off base to explore the town with six guys from my unit. 

The person in the picture is obviously not me.

The city is very metropolitan.  At the souks, which is kind of like a traditional marketplace mixed with highly commercialized restaurants, you can sit down, drink absurdly strong arabic coffee, and talk to Russians, Britons, Bangladeshis, Filipinos, Australians, and so on.  And of course, in general, the whiter you are, the richer you are.  The British and Aussies work plush jobs in the financial sectors while the Bangladeshis, Filipinos, and whoever else are usually the ones serving you food, trying to hawk trinkets at you saying "come here, my friend!  I give you good price!  Special price!"

And of course, you can always tell who the American military personnel are.

Occasionally you will see natives walking around.  They are EXTREMELY wealthy.  They don't really talk to other people aside from themselves, they are buried beneath their traditional garb and reflective aviator sunglasses with gold frames.  They drive around land cruisers, BMWs, Bentleys, Mazzaratis, basically any luxury car you can think of.  I saw a couple of Hummers driving around by people in white robes without a care in the world.  It must be nice to be rich and have gas prices at $.70 USD.

Che lives.  The Emir would be displeased.

This is the BAM, which stands for Big Ass Mall.  I'm sure there's a more graceful name for it than the one the military gave it, but it is what it is.  It's five stories and it has an ice skating rink on the bottom floor.  It's generally geared towards wealthy patrons, with stores selling Gucci bags, Rolex watches, and all kinds of high priced items that, if you have to ask the price for them, you probably can't afford it.

You're better off going to the souks and buying an imitation Rolex for $50.  Fake it till you make it.

The city is a weird combination of the traditional and the modern.  Women in burkhas (or as the military calls them, "ninja suits") using iphones and buying expensive perfumes.  A prayer area in a hypermodern mall, where people bring their own cardboard boxes to lay on the ground and kneel on during their daily prayers.

A mosque the size of a castle outside of a soccer stadium where Japan played Jordan in an international soccer tournament.