Two Years of Traveling

I’ve lived in Kuwait for a little over two years now, and although I wouldn’t say it’s the greatest place to live, there’s no doubt it’s given me a chance to travel more internationally. I have been able to travel from Southeast Asia to India to Northern Europe. I’ve learned how to get tourist visas and become familiar with several regional airlines (Ryanair, you are one shrewd bastard).

Traveling has been a tremendous and eye-opening experience. Even though I’ve always had a desire to be exposed to different cultures and make international friends, I’m still an American from a small city. It was quite a stretch for me initially to become accustomed to traveling long distances even within the U.S., and these past two years have further broadened my perspective and increased my traveler’s prowess.

As I prepare to move back to the U.S., I hope I can continue to explore the world (and even my own country). I’m more aware of what it takes to travel: everything from what to pack, to the physical toll long plane flights and jet lag can take, to (of course) the money required.

I feel a stronger desire than ever to travel now, and the world seems both smaller (I’m more aware of geography) and more immense (I feel like there will never be enough time to see it all).

To Kuwait: Pt 4 (Settling In)

This is the final part of my Moving to Kuwait series.

Closer to the coast, were I was to live, the temperature was cooler. When I reached my new apartment, I found it very agreeable (especially coming from the conditions of the transient camp). My place had an ocean view, and I remember being surprised at how much tile was plastered everywhere. Later I learned that tile was easier had than the wood rarer to the desert.

Something was broken in my apartment (I can’t remember what), and I remember naively asking the Bangladeshi maintenance man how long he’d lived here and if he liked it. He said he’d been here a long time and also, with a smirk, “No, sir. That’s the problem; nobody likes living here, it’s just for the money.”

Several times when I first moved to Kuwait, I felt like I was coming face to face with something I had been avoiding: I’m much luckier and richer than most people in the world. The stark difference in class was immediately apparent. It was like seeing poorer foreign workers in the US that do menial jobs but much, much more so.

Although this didn’t seem to apply to neighborhoods. It was difficult for me to point out any dedicated slums as everything seemed to be mishmashed together with no zoning laws or planned neighborhoods. Being a small, desolate, desert country, after all, and there seemed to be a lack of respect for nature combined with a messy mix of people (many foreign). On one side of the road a you would see a gorgeous mansion while on the other side a big pile of trash.

I was struck by the feeling of things being too familiar. It was almost too easy for us Americans to feel at home here. Signs were printed in English as well as Arabic, there were many familiar American fast food chains and retail stores, everyone spoke English, and even the models of cars were familiar. I thought I would be more immersed in a foreign environment and tongue, but there are so many conveniences for us that the tendency for a lot of people was to continuing doing the familiar.

Actually, the first time I felt like I was immersed in a large group of Kuwaitis was when I went to one of the malls. With a large portion of the native population having money to burn, it was no surprise that there were several large, elaborate malls - the number of which was disproportionate to the size of the country. There were many fashionable, high-end brands in these malls too: Gucci, TAG Heuer, Oakley, Bulgari, etc. There were several European brands that I was unfamiliar with, also. I was impressed, actually, at the style level of younger Kuwaitis, which was much higher than I was accustomed to.

Not everything was familiar, though, and definitely not up to the quality level of America I was used to. This made me appreciate my life in the U.S. more. Lots of little things stuck out; it was as if everything from the electrical outlets to forks was a little off. I was surprised how dirty and dusty everything was, too. It’s easy to think that, for such a country perceived to be rich, that the standards weren’t higher.

Kuwait is a third-world country with first-world money.

It’s like when someone from a trailer park wins the lottery.

I realized later that this was a common, unrealistic expectation. Kuwait, being relatively young, simply hadn’t had the time to progress to the level I was familiar with in the West. The money was there maybe, but it takes time for such physical and cultural change, and it was foolish to assume otherwise.

I primarily worked with other Americans, and in my brief off hours, I tended to stick with these same people. Our inflated salaries was an elephant in many rooms, and it was interesting to see how this motivated and influenced people (to some detriment at many times). Many of my fellow expats came to pay off debt. There were some people (“bounce backs”) who would get used to the lifestyle that their increased salaries afforded them and return to the US, only to return on another contract in the area.

One looming factor, of course, that colored my life in Kuwait was being without my wife. I knew living without her would be hard, but I didn’t realize just how difficult it would be. We met every few months on vacation for about a week each trip, and it felt like I was preparing for a big date every time I would get close to seeing her again. Spending time with her during this period was very passionate and precious, and it was crushing whenever I would return from vacation.

Living in a foreign country was novel for several months, but I remember when I starting losing this enthusiasm after awhile. I became slightly grizzled and bitter. My impressions of Kuwait started to change as I gained more perspective. The poorness of the Indians, Sri Lankans, et al didn’t strike me as it did before. I felt more comfortable walking around woman completely veiled in black. The sight of refineries along the highway belching plumes of exhaust fire didn’t strike me as unusual.

To Kuwait: Pt 3 (Landed)

This is part of my Moving to Kuwait series.

The high was 120 the day we landed in Kuwait. They said the wind would feel like a hair dryer, and they weren’t kidding. Getting off the plane, I instantly thought how I’d never experienced such heat - it was comical. With dust in the air and the bright sun beating down upon us, I wondered with a fellow employee how people could live in such an extreme, desolate place.

But we were quickly taken to air-conditioned buses (Mercedes-branded, I remember), where the curtains were drawn and we were instructed not to look out of the windows. We drove away to where we would be oriented for work in a large, escorted caravan away from the airport. Dusty air filled the bus, and I felt like I was choking slightly.

The whole thing was a massive operation that I constantly marveled at: the training center in Georgia, the jumbo-sized plane, feeding everyone, logistics, head counts, stopping at a terminal in Germany apparently designed to handle these kinds of shipments. I was undecided between being proud of my country for being so capable and being in a state of mild terror at what a powerful war machine we were.

My amazement continued as we spent several more days in a transient base in the desert. It was still dusty and very dirty, but again I was naively amazed at the facilities. There were air conditioned sleeping tents (although there were 16 of us per tent with bunk beds), trailers for showers, latrines, and laundry. There were a couple recreation tents with internet access, private TV stations, a projector with scheduled movie showings, DVD rentals, Playstations and XBOXes, Pool, Ping Pong, Foosball, comfortable chairs for relaxation/sleep. Massive, constantly-running diesel generators provided power for all of it.

I was surprised by how much power everyone needed for their personal electronics, computers, phones, etc. I was also surprised by how many iPhones I saw. In my tent alone I was awoken in the morning by several default iPhone alarms going off at various times (mine included).

We waited to be processed and did more training at the camp. I’ve never experienced such heat. I remember wondering how people could even function properly in such an environment. The generator for our sleeping tent broke one night, and we awoke to find ourselves in an oven.

Again, the heat amazed me. The wind was strong, but wasn’t a cooling one. I knew that my body needed to acclimate to the different climate as well as time zone, but I couldn’t help but to still feel panic as if I would suffocate while walking to different tents in the camp. Dust was in the air and it was thrown into my eyes by the wind.

We escaped the heat by going indoors, and indoors wasn’t too shabby either. The cafeteria was probably more impressive than the one in Georgia. Chicken tenders, pizza, fried chicken, a salad bar, fountain drinks, ice cream bars, and even a manned sundae and milkshake bar. Someone said that the Army recognized that one way to increase troop morale was to provide then with good living conditions. I also was told that this Middle Eastern theater was the first in US military history in which troops were going back fatter than when they came.

And if you didn’t like the cafeteria, there was a KFC, McDonalds, and Pizza Hut. They seemed to be very popular too; someone told me that a McDonalds at a base in Iraq had the most sales of any in the world (although I came to feel there were a lot of tall tales floating about).

I was also struck by the foreign workers at the transient camp - a lot of Indians or Eastern Asians. The Indians here were different than the doctors or engineers I was accustomed to seeing at home. They worked as janitors, maintenance men, drivers, cooks, cell phone salesmen, DVD rental counter clerks. Someone said they made about $500 a month and that they had their passports taken upon entering Kuwait until their work was through.

I remember seeing striking messages written on the bathroom stalls:

Ask Jesus for forgiveness, or your just one heartbeat away from hell.

amended with

Do you really think any of us is going anywhere but hell?

On the lighter side, there were a few Chuck Norris jokes:

Chuck Norris doesn’t wipe because he doesn’t give a shit.

When I was inside for long periods of time, I would sometimes forgot where I was and think that I was back in the states. Being in the foreign and extreme environment of the camp made me yearn for the conveniences of home, and I thought much about being back in Huntsville with Jamila.

I looked at my new job as a chance to see a different part of the world, but I got the feeling that this wasn’t a goal of many other contractors in my group. To their credit, most others wouldn’t be staying in the city like me (instead they would be working on secure bases in Iraq or Afghanistan), but the motivations I kept hearing started to grate on me. My fellow contractors were proud of the good salaries that would be getting, and there was a lot of talk about money.

To Kuwait: Pt 2 (Almost Landed)

This is part of my Moving to Kuwait series.

The training continued in Georgia.

We took basic medical classes (introductions to bandaging wounds, CPR instruction, etc). Sitting in these classes, there seemed to be too much humor. Sure, you can have a sense of humor, but I wondered if joking devalues life dangerously. Does it turn life into a Hollywood movie?

They also taught us about improvised explosive devices (IEDs).

Anything can be used as an IED: potholes, cardboard boxes, trash on the side of the road, water hoses, abandoned vehices, even dead animals. We went through a mock obstacle course that had little (but very loud) fire crackers. A few stepped on the deadly piece of wood that triggered a mock bomb with a loud pop. It was hard enough seeing the trip wires and triggers in this course, and I thought how there would be no way to avoid it in the field without being unrealistically cautious or just never doing anything. I heard a few guys saying that as soon as the soldiers in the field wrote a report on the latest techniques and got it processed by the Army, the insurgents had already moved on to different techniques. My roommate said insurgents even tried to slip an explosive into the sewage truck that was coming into his camp.

The bravado from the military is annoying - especially, that from ex-military people coming back as contractors. There was an odd sense of nostalgia and telling stories.

I felt uneasy about our group being composed of mostly paid contractors. I once heard Chomsky say that, if there must be a military, it should be a voluntary one (sans mercenaries), so that soldiers could vote with there presence if they thought a war unjust.

Money is too powerful a motivator.

On the day of our flight out of Georgia, we got up very early, stood along the little road outside of our barracks with our bags, and waited. Then, we were bussed somewhere else, were we waited. When all the checklists were completed, and everyone’s name had been called, we boarded the plane and took off.

We stopped along the way, and when we got off the plane while it was refueled, we were greeted by a large group of veterans who had gathered at the exit to shake the soldiers hands. Since our group mainly consisted of contractors, it proved a little difficult and awkward for the vets to pick out soldiers from the rest as we walked by.

Seeing the troops greated by veterans, hearing the hired commercial flight crew thank them for their service on in-flight announcements, I wondered if the soldiers ever grew tired of being thanked.

To Kuwait: Pt 1 (Kuwait is Closer to Her)

This is part of my Moving to Kuwait series.

It’s been 11 months since I arrived in Kuwait for work. Throughout the initial move and since living here, I’ve taken notes occasionally on my impressions. I’m just getting around to compiling them, but I hope the initial feel still comes through.

We were in a tough spot.

It’s a long story, but my wife was being forced to go home to Uzbekistan for 2 years to fulfill some outstanding conditions of her student visa that originally brought her to the U.S. - where we fell in love, got married, bought a house…

I would be without her in America. I was thinking of getting a different job and trying out a new city anyway. I got a hit on Monster about a job in Kuwait. Kuwait is closer to Uzbekistan than the U.S. is, and I would be closer to her.

My employer was a U.S. defense contractor. As part of the job orientation, I was required to go to Ft Benning, GA for a week to get basic training and exposure to the environment I would be working in.

There was a large group of people that I was doing the training with, and they often divided us into three lines: military personnel, DoD civilian workers, and (by far the largest, and my own group) contractors.

I remember one of the first things we did was watch a promotional video. There was a cheesy Hollywood feel to it, and the soundtrack was sappy with a country-Western feel and lyrics like

And the band is playing, and the drum’s are drumming, ‘cuz someone’s gotta die over there.

I heard many people, instructors even say “over there”, and it bugged me. It seemed like a bad way to say it, a blanket statement, just not precise.

I hadn’t been around military facilities very much, and I remember being pleasantly surprised at how nice the accommodations were. Nice buildings, a gym, cafeteria, air conditioning everywhere. The training coordinators seemed so orderly and considerate. Once, when we all walked a short distance to a large, air-conditioned tent and it rained, they had buses brought in to bring us back to our rooms so we wouldn’t have to wait or walk in the rain.

But there was something disturbing under all the niceties - all of this was part of the world’s biggest war machine.

We would fly into Kuwait, but the majority of contractors I spoke with seemed to be going on to Iraq or Afghanistan. Mechanics, IT networking guys, system administrators, a large batch of linguists — Arabic and Kurdish (for Iraq) and Farsi and Pashtu (for Afghanistan) — soldiers coming back as contractors for more pay.

We went to several parts of the base for our training, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the size of the place — it was a little city, with shops, movie theaters, a bowling alley, all tucked away from the general public — I imagined the resources it took to build and maintain such a thing.

I had a hard time getting anyone else to share my wonder; it seemed familiar and old hat to most people.

Many people even seemed whiny to me, and they didn’t seem to have a good perspective. There were complaints about the free food, free rooms we stayed in, free entertainment at the recreation building — while we were on the clock during this training.

I heard too much bragging about how much money there is to be made. It seemed like a bad attitude to have, and I felt ashamed to think of the money I would be making off of war.

Here were my reasons for taking this job: I wanted to be closer to my wife while she spends two years in Uzbekistan, I wanted a change of pace and to get different experience than from from my old job, I wanted to experience living in a different location (and in a different country, all the better) while I’m young and have the opportunity to. Money or patriotism is not on that list, although I take the money just the same.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being a war profiteer. I could justify it, but still I would be one.