Welcome to Baghdad

I arrived in Bahdad yesterday afternoon.  It was a long trip, including two nights in transit.  But I'm finally here, have started the check-in process, established phone contact with Janis, and gotten a few hours worth of sleep.  Time to catch up on this narrative.  This is going to be a LONG entry, just so you're warned.

The visit home was great.  (Heck, I'm already using the term "visiting home", what does that tell you?)  But then on Monday it was time to pack my bags, and packing was just as hard on all of us as it was the last time.  Even the dogs picked up on the fact that the suitcases came out and I was sorting things to go in them.  They got up on the bed and gave me That Look.  Poor Janis, who wears her heart on her sleeve, just got more and more miserable as Monday went on.  

Tuesday was D-Day.  We left the house a bit before noon and went to the airport.  There, we parked in the shade so the dogs wouldn't get too hot.  I said my goodbyes to them and we headed for the terminal.  About halfway there, I looked back and there were two little heads poking out the window watching us go away.  Once inside, I checked my bag ($15, thank you US Airways) and was ready to go.  Saying goodbye to Janis was the hardest thing in the world.  We must've been quite a sight, two old fogies standing there holding on to each other for all we're worth.  But then it was over.  I went in the restaurant for a cup of coffee that I really didn't need, just to settle myself down.  How Janis made it home in one piece is beyond me.  

The hops from Asheville to Charlotte and then to Dulles were about as exciting as watching toast brown.  I deliberately gave myself a long layover in Dulles so that, if there were any difficulties en route (like a lost bag), there would be time to fix things.  There weren't any difficulties, though, so my only problem was filling a few dead hours at Dulles.  Then we boarded our Air France flight and left for Paris.

I had a lot of expectations for Air France and they didn't disappoint.  It started off right at the counter with no fee to check a bag (take that, US Airways).  The cabin attendants were all impossibly good-looking in an elegant French way, as well as being quite attentive and efficient.  Each seat had its own pillow and blanket, and the attendants came by with packets that contained a set of headphones, eyeshades, and a moist towellette.  The seats all had little screens in them and the flight was stocked with a wide range of complimentary movies, TV shows, music, flight tracking, and more.  And the food!  Remember, this is Air France.  Rather than being handed a plate of mystery meat and processed soybeans at some exorbitant extra cost, we were given a menu that read:

Tabbouleh and salmon

Choice of main course: 

  - Saute of beef with carrots accompanied by mashed potatoes or

  - Chicken served with Riesling wine sauce, rice and broccoli

Cheese

Entremets

Berry chocolate cake

Coffee and tea

I had the chicken and it was very good.  And since this was Air France, I also had a nice little bottle of Vin de Pays d'Oc Cabernet Merlot 2007 La Baume.  Quite amusing.  They even gave us metal knives, forks, and spoons.  Now when was the last time you saw that on an American airline?

The only problem with the flight was that it was a red-eye and I just do not sleep on airplanes.  So by the time we landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport, I had a stiff neck, puffy eyes, and had given myself a wedgie while squirming around trying to get comfortable.  Getting to my next flight was a challenge.  They parked us away from the terminal and shuttled us in with buses.  And it took forever to get people moving off the plane.  It took about 45 minutes from the time we landed to the time we actually arrived in the building.  The terminal itself was a rat's maze with cordons everywhere and more screening of carry-on bags and passports.  Even though I was moving at a pretty good clip, I still made it to my next gate just five minutes before boarding - and this with two hours between the landing of one flight and departure of the next!  Lesson learned: give yourself plenty of time in Charles de Gaulle airport.

The next leg was to Amman, Jordan, also on Air France.  It was an uneventful flight.  The attendants were just as impossibly good-looking as the previous crew and the food was just as good.  There was a rowdy bunch of Jordanians on the flight who were having a wonderful time in the back and cheered and clapped when we landed.  Once off the plane, though, the airport was a bit of a zoo.  Fortunately, I was met by someone who ushered me through customs and got me to the hotel.  If I'd have had to figure out the process, get my bags, and get a cab, I'd still be there.

The travel people had made a reservation for me at a 5-star hotel in a nice section of Amman.  Quite good.    I showered up and went down to one of the restaurants for dinner.  I basically had the place to myself.  Don't know if it was because it was already late by then (after 9 pm) or because it was the second or third day of Ramadan.  Whatever, I had the full attention of the manager, cook, assistant cook, and an army of servers.  (And to tell the truth, I get very uncomfortable in situations like that.  I don't want a flock of people hovering over me, looking for any sign that I might possibly want something.  I'm much more at home sitting at the counter in a Waffle House listening to a middle-aged waitress call me "Honey" while shouting my order to the cook.)  But the food was excellent and there was way, way, way too much of it.  Of course, with the manager checking up on me every few minutes and getting very concerned when there was still food on my plate, I ate way too much.  I finally got to bed about 11 pm and was up two hours later to pop some Alka-Seltzer.  "I can't believe I ate the whoooole thing."  "You ate it, dumbass."  Finally drifted off to sleep again about 5 for two fitful hours.

A driver picked me up at the hotel to take me to the military airport.  He was a really pleasant guy.  Since we were running a little early, he showed me around Amman a bit, to include the ancient Roman citadel and amphitheater.  Both he and my previous driver were very proud of Amman and Jordan and were eager to tell me all about it.  Neither of them were boastful, they just knew that their country had a lot of cool things to offer and wanted me to know about some of them.  We got to the airport about 9:30 and I joined about 40 other people waiting for the Baghdad flight.  Finally, about three hours later, we were ushered onto a bus and taken to a C-17 sitting out on the tarmac.

There's something inherently reassuring to me about military cargo planes and this was no exception.  They're big and stark, with all their plumbing and wiring hanging out there for everyone to see.  There's no hiding behind decorative panels.  If you want to know what condition the airframe is in, just take a look, it's right there by your left hand.  And the Air Force crewmen take very good care of their planes.  They loaded all us scruffy civilians into their baby very efficiently and took off.  The flight took only about an hour and 15 minutes.  I'd heard some very entertaining stories about the final approach into Baghdad, but this was pretty normal for an Air Force flight: they just nosed the plane over, threw on the air brakes, and flew straight in.  Once on the ground, they unloaded the pallets of cargo and bags and we marched out the tail of the plane onto the ground.

And it was HOT.  Motherfucker, it was hot.  I thought the heat was from the jet blast, but no, it was the frickin' air.  Try setting your oven on 400 degrees and standing in front of it.  Better yet, climb in.  It was a dry, roasty, gritty heat.  The airport was a busy place, with helicopters flying around, front-end loaders driving by, squads of soldiers wielding big honking backpacks trudging along, a line of armored vehicles sporting 50-caliber machine guns idling in the parking lot.  We got checked in with little difficulty - a couple of idiots who should've known better had been taking pictures as they got off the plane, and taking pictures of an active military flight line is a no-no.  

I wound up in the group heading to the Embassy compound.  We were issued our helmets and flak vests, then marched back out on the flight line to get on the helicopters that would take us in.  Watching the four helos come toward us across the airport, I was reminded of the scene from Apocalypse Now, and could hear in my head the strains of Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries.  When the helos came in, their air blast knocked over bags and blew hot gritty sand all over us.  It was like standing in front of a giant hair dryer set on High.

The flight was quite fun.  We flew in a loose line at just a couple hundred feet above ground, zigzagging back and forth.  These helos are pretty open, so the hot desert air blew through.  Helos are noisy and bouncy, with a steady WHOPWHOPWHOPWHOP from the blades and a ride like going over railroad tracks in a truck.  We curved over the river and dropped right in on the Embassy.  I'd made it to my new home.  

One of the people from my new office met me at the heliport and took me in tow.  I briefly met my new boss and then hooked up with my sponsor.  We got dinner and then I was taken to my new digs.  After unpacking and a shower, I felt almost human again.  I did some arranging of my nest and hit the rack.  Now it's ridiculously early in the morning, but I'm wide awake.  Guess I'll go grab some breakfast and find my way to the office.  They said to not bother showing up until noon (it's Friday, which is the "weekend", meaning you can sleep in, but what the hell, I'm up anyway.)  So I'll try to find an internet connection on the way in and post this as soon as I can.

Baghdad.  My new home.  I'm ready to go to work.

And it's HOT.