I never thought I would wake up in the morning and think, only 93 degrees this morning? Kinda chilly. But it's true. In the morning, when I walk the sandy hill up to the hospital, the weather is a nice sunny, mid 90's temperature. By the afternoon, the sun has hits its peak and the wind blows sand into my eyes. I know eyelashes are meant to protect your eyes from things getting into them, but honestly, when your eyelashes are full of sand, what good is being done??
The hospital here is amazing. It is surprising what can be done with limited equipment and resources. The nurses here are top notch, able to scrounge around and think outside of the box when it comes to supplies. The patient population is pretty stable; active duty Army are most of the clientele, but there are some Navy and Air Force service members thrown in for good measure. I am pumped that we get to wear scrubs tops with our desert cammie bottoms...but I never in my life thought I would be so ok with wearing my boots everyday. I have become very close to my "glow belt"...since this is an army base, we have to wear the refelctive belt pretty much at all times. The old Maura used to rebel against things like this, especially since the effectiveness of a glow belt in the glaring sun won't make me any more visible to oncoming traffic, but the new Maura is just trying to acclimate to Army life with as little difficulty as possible. No, I will never use "tracking" or "hooah" in normal conversation, but I am at least understanding the implications of "hooah" when used in the vernacular by soldiers. In context, the word can be used so many ways. Be it positive, negative, a war cry, a sound for anger...soldiers embrace the "hooah" mentality with a surprising love. I, myself, continue to say va bene instead...not many people know what the heck that means, but for me, it's a little way to stick to the man.
I am off today and thank goodness I was. It was the first time I got to sleep in and so had a regular nights sleep since I arrived in this time zone. Here is hoping I can sleep again tonight!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Day three in Kuwait.
As I walked home from the gym last night, and I saw the red ring around the full moon, blurred by the sand in the night air, all I could think was how remarkable it is that I am here. I never thought I would be in the middle east and yet here I am. I woke up this morning slightly more adjusted than the morning before, and in the very least, the sun at 0700 is far less blinding than at 1400. As we walked to the DFAC (it means dining facility in army-ese), we walked by the port-a-potties and Starbucks, and I realized that smell of stale day old bread and sand is not all that endearing.
Excitingly enough, I have found some similarities to Italy to make me feel just like home. First similarity? Neither the Italians nor the Kuwaitis wear deodorant. As I walked through a bazaar complete with hookahs and belly dancing outfits, I smelled a scent as familiar to me as standing in the funicular on Capri. So if I had just closed my eyes for a second, I could have been in the decadent vacation spot of emperors instead of dusty bazaar inside Camp Arifjan. Another similarity? Kuwaiti men love to stare at American women JUST like the Italians! No shame, they just look...and look right at you when you stare back. And shocker! Kuwaitis ALSO throw trash in the street. They also share a love of Italian techno music. That was a surprise today.
I have also learned that I like Camp Arifjan better than Camp Virginia because Arifjan has lights in the bathrooms. I had almost perfected a routine though with the bathrooms in Camp Virginia. First: Swing open the port a potty door quickly to fully assess if any snakes or scorpions are in there peeing or pooping before me. Second: after ascertaining that I am indeed alone in the dark port a potty, I hold open the light from my Ipod, holding it in my mouth so as to not touch anything. Thirdly, I scan once more with the light from the Ipod...(it sounds neurotic but I am so super quick now it is like three seconds.) These are skills that boy scouts have acquired when they are like 10 years old but I have had to learn it in my old age. Good thing fear of snakes makes me a fast learner.
Tomorrow is check in at the hospital. I am just excited that I don't have to wear body armor.
Excitingly enough, I have found some similarities to Italy to make me feel just like home. First similarity? Neither the Italians nor the Kuwaitis wear deodorant. As I walked through a bazaar complete with hookahs and belly dancing outfits, I smelled a scent as familiar to me as standing in the funicular on Capri. So if I had just closed my eyes for a second, I could have been in the decadent vacation spot of emperors instead of dusty bazaar inside Camp Arifjan. Another similarity? Kuwaiti men love to stare at American women JUST like the Italians! No shame, they just look...and look right at you when you stare back. And shocker! Kuwaitis ALSO throw trash in the street. They also share a love of Italian techno music. That was a surprise today.
I have also learned that I like Camp Arifjan better than Camp Virginia because Arifjan has lights in the bathrooms. I had almost perfected a routine though with the bathrooms in Camp Virginia. First: Swing open the port a potty door quickly to fully assess if any snakes or scorpions are in there peeing or pooping before me. Second: after ascertaining that I am indeed alone in the dark port a potty, I hold open the light from my Ipod, holding it in my mouth so as to not touch anything. Thirdly, I scan once more with the light from the Ipod...(it sounds neurotic but I am so super quick now it is like three seconds.) These are skills that boy scouts have acquired when they are like 10 years old but I have had to learn it in my old age. Good thing fear of snakes makes me a fast learner.
Tomorrow is check in at the hospital. I am just excited that I don't have to wear body armor.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
We're not in Naples anymore, Toto.
This is my first attemot at blogging since March of this year and oddly, I last blogged right before my whole world flipped upside down. I found out I would be deploying to Kuwait and, five order modifications later, as well as many different departure dates, I finally left to process into Norfolk for the beginning of the predeployment stuff.
The Lord, in His wisdom, gently led me into the heat that I now realize is my future, by letting Norfolk be hot and humid the whole week I was there. The smell of sweaty khakis is pretty putrid, as all officers (and owners of wet dogs) know, since it smells like just that: wet dog. I walked myself dutifully to NMPS where I was poked, prodded, sent on various wild goose chases and then sent lickety split down to South Carolina for training.
When I described Fort Jackson to my mom, it sounded like a mix of summer camp and my worst nightmare. I 1) hate being dirty and 2) hate being sweaty and 3) hate other people seeing me in either of the above states. I had always wondered what it would take for me to not even want to wear mascara in the morning....I found out that it was very simple; sweating my booty off in 100 degree temperature in full body armor and out in the South Carolina woods was just the catalyst I needed. I became so free without makeup that when I put it on to go to dinner last Saturday night, everyone in my barracks was shocked and amazed that I could be a pretty girl! My poor eyelashes revolted against the makeup; it appears my face likes to be au naturale. One bad thing that occurred, and I never thought I would say this, but my kevlar helmut strap left me with an outbreak of pimples along my strap line. Darn that kevlar!
After three weeks of hustling around in our body armor (where I won the "looks most like a turtle" award from my buddies) and shooting guns, I became a hardened killer. Just kidding. But I did qualifiy on the weapons, and I did get rather proficient at clearing my weapons and walking with a swagger like John Wayne and I did start to feel that I was just a little bit tough. After I had all that under my belt, we loaded our three seabags (and a ruck sack) with our kevlar, body armor, equipment, gear and all sorts of fun Army goodies and set off for Kuwait.
When I walked off the freezing plane, I realized that the hot air wasn't just something blowing off the plane, dang it...it was Kuwait! Crap.
So here I am, day two of captivity, where I have found a new definition of hot. And no, I don't mean hot good looking, because I still haven't worn any makeup for a week, I mean hot as blazes. I feel like poor Luke Skywalker, stuck on Tattooine...just waiting for Uncle Owen to let him go off world.
But for me, it's Uncle Sam holding me back.
Oh well! C'est la vie! On with more briefings in the morning!
The Lord, in His wisdom, gently led me into the heat that I now realize is my future, by letting Norfolk be hot and humid the whole week I was there. The smell of sweaty khakis is pretty putrid, as all officers (and owners of wet dogs) know, since it smells like just that: wet dog. I walked myself dutifully to NMPS where I was poked, prodded, sent on various wild goose chases and then sent lickety split down to South Carolina for training.
When I described Fort Jackson to my mom, it sounded like a mix of summer camp and my worst nightmare. I 1) hate being dirty and 2) hate being sweaty and 3) hate other people seeing me in either of the above states. I had always wondered what it would take for me to not even want to wear mascara in the morning....I found out that it was very simple; sweating my booty off in 100 degree temperature in full body armor and out in the South Carolina woods was just the catalyst I needed. I became so free without makeup that when I put it on to go to dinner last Saturday night, everyone in my barracks was shocked and amazed that I could be a pretty girl! My poor eyelashes revolted against the makeup; it appears my face likes to be au naturale. One bad thing that occurred, and I never thought I would say this, but my kevlar helmut strap left me with an outbreak of pimples along my strap line. Darn that kevlar!
After three weeks of hustling around in our body armor (where I won the "looks most like a turtle" award from my buddies) and shooting guns, I became a hardened killer. Just kidding. But I did qualifiy on the weapons, and I did get rather proficient at clearing my weapons and walking with a swagger like John Wayne and I did start to feel that I was just a little bit tough. After I had all that under my belt, we loaded our three seabags (and a ruck sack) with our kevlar, body armor, equipment, gear and all sorts of fun Army goodies and set off for Kuwait.
When I walked off the freezing plane, I realized that the hot air wasn't just something blowing off the plane, dang it...it was Kuwait! Crap.
So here I am, day two of captivity, where I have found a new definition of hot. And no, I don't mean hot good looking, because I still haven't worn any makeup for a week, I mean hot as blazes. I feel like poor Luke Skywalker, stuck on Tattooine...just waiting for Uncle Owen to let him go off world.
But for me, it's Uncle Sam holding me back.
Oh well! C'est la vie! On with more briefings in the morning!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)