Sitting in Cambodia, Thinking of Afghanistan

Here I sit, in a small restaurant in Siem Reap, Cambodia, eating a breakfast of eggs and rice, mango smoothie and iced coffee sweetened with condensed milk as I contemplate my future. Two days ago I received an e-mail from a Captain at the Bureau of Naval Personnel. It was to tell me my temporary recall back to Active Duty only requires an Admiral’s signature for final approval. This might seem odd. It was only 18 months ago I was returning from a deployment to Afghanistan. You might ask, why on earth would I consider returning to a war torn country in Central Asia. It was last July when the position was advertised. The DOD is putting together something called the AF/PAC Hands Program. The purpose is to build a cadre of personnel drawn from all services that will become experts in Afghanistan and Pakistan. The tours are 3 to 5 years with multiple deployments to Central Asia. The main point here is to establish some continuity with personnel who know the language, and are in the same position for several years. Wow, what a concept… actually have military personnel, who have a clue about the region and culture work to influence policy and actions on the US side and continuity with our Afghan and Pakistan counterparts. WTF took Uncle so long to figure out this no-brainer?!

When I was in Afghanistan I told myself if I could do anything to help that actual Afghans in any way, even in a small way, I would. Now, I’m not speaking of the Afghan Govt., or the US Embassy, or the UN Mission, or ISAF… I feel obligated to help the Afghan people. This program’s goals, to provide continuity and establish regional experts, something I railed about during my first deployment, seemed a worthwhile reason to jump back into the fray. It has been frustrating though when trying to get details of the program and the specific billet details. The Navy has never been very good at actually providing good billet info. They are entrenched in the idea that personnel will follow traditional career paths. Funny since we are now 10 years into the ear of the Dirt Sailor. Hell, that’s half a career for an active duty sailor!

I have to be honest though, there are other more tangible benefits for me in this foray as well. Every month I spend in-country BOG is a month with minimal income tax burden. Every 90 days mobilized reduces my retirement age by 90 days and three years active will bump my retirement by about 5 ½% (over just drilling in the Reserves). But those have to be balanced against significant time away from home, moving out of the house we rent in Malibu, disrupting the kids school schedules. I’ll finish up three years with the option of going back to work at my civilian job but without a place to live initially. Multiple ,lengthy deployments are very hard on marriages as well. So, I’ve been debating all these factors in my head as this has played out. My wife wants me to take the jump. I’m not sure how my kids really view it. I know my daughter is nervous.

I’m still digging for more details, even as the machinery turns to bring me back on active duty. The first billet title I was provided sounded like an FMS (Foreign Military Sales position). That caused me some degree of soul searching. Selling guns and ammunition to the Afghan Govt. is a dubious way of helping the people. Then, a few days before I left on this vacation, I received a position description. It looks like it is more of a PR job; selling the notion that ISAF and the US are training the Afghan security forces for the betterment of the Afghans. I can buy into that. If the Afghans have more faith in their Army they will be more likely to be effective. The more effective the Afghan Army is the sooner the US and ISAF can get the hell out of Afghanistan and allow the Afghans to run their own country… as they should be.


So here I am, on vacation, thinking, planning, wondering. Life is going to get quite hectic for the next 3 ½ years. Here I go about to jump back on that roller coaster. The one I thought I was finished with. This seemed a fitting time to restart the blog. Thanks for reading.

Last Day in Paradise

What a wonderful morning and lunch. We strolled the Casco Viejo, buying trinkets and smoking Cuban cigars. A local man, Conrad Grant, began walking with us as an informal tour guide. He was 73 and of Jamaican descent. His grandfather was brought to Panama to work on the canal. He pointed across the bay to the multiple high rise apartments and told us that it was not Panama but Miami. The rents for newly remodeled buildings in Casco Viejo run $1,500 and up, this in a country where 80% earn less than $300 a month. It’s an interesting neighborhood. Buildings being refurbished for the well off and expats next to buildings half collapsed and filled with squatters.
On the walk back to the hotel we visited the city’s fish market and had cups of ceviche. I never cared for ceviche before visiting Panama. Here it seems an altogether different dish, clean, fresh and cool. It’s typically enjoyed as an after work snack with a beer, a perfect accompaniment to a hot day. We couldn’t order the beer with it due to a holiday but it was a wonderful lunch all the same.
This afternoon its off for the obligatory visit to the canal locks and then exploring the “Miami” part of the city. So much to do and so little time, it looks like additional visits are in order.

Paradise Lost

Sitting in a beach cabana on the Pacific at a location I choose not to name. This beach is amazing… 22 km long, water the temp of a warm bath, less than 30 people on the beach today, sparsely developed, in a word heavenly! Which explains why I decline to mention it’s name. Wonderful places are becoming more and more scarce.
We have been looking for land near Volcan Baru. Boquete is a wonderful place but was “discovered” by the expat European and American community at least 10 years ago. They came because of the cool temps, wonderful views, quaint local Indians, coffee plantations and excellent retirement benefits in Panama. They like it so much they are buying up coffee land and building gated communities or huge fenced in homes. They love it so much a group of them meets regularly to discuss what they would like to change in the community… it may be paradise but why not make it a bit more like Ohio or Denmark? A friend of mine from Brooklyn chased them out of his Pizzeria when he heard what they were discussing!
What is the allure of making paradise a bit more like home? I wish I knew. Wouldn’t it be more convenient simply to play photos of paradise across your 65” flat screen TV? You’d still have Budweiser and MGD instead of settling for Atlas or Balboa. No pesky Panamanian drivers to deal with and no need to speak poor Spanish. Please consider this option. That way I can continue visiting my beach paradise uninterrupted.

Contrasts within the country… the USA is said to be a land of contrasts and so is Panama. Having spent several days in the land of the Kuna as well as Bocas Del Toro was educational. Both areas are on the Caribbean, both are poor (in relative terms) and both bracket the Mosquito Coast.

Bocas is populated by a combination of indigenous tribes, African slaves and Jamaicans. The main language spoken is Creole, a mix of several languages. The locals live in built up towns of wooden homes on the edge of the sea or in mangrove swamps, filthy and run down. The average income appears to be quite low with most of the cash coming from tourism. We visited on New Year’s Eve but I have the feeling the party atmosphere dominates the main town of Bocas all year long. The visitors are a mix of dreadlocked surfers and preppy beachgoers who alternate between laying in hammocks and bar hoping with countless numbers of each to choose from. The food was quite good but the average waiting time for a meal was about an hour from point of ordering, fine if you’ve nothing to do and nowhere to go but otherwise it pretty much sucks. Boca a great place to chase girls and get drunk and not necessarily in that order. Using water taxis to bar hop was a new experience for me. Racing back to our hotel after midnight in an open speed boat crashing over the swells and waiting to see if it takes a wave wrong was also new for me. A bit of an adrenalin rush to be sure. So my basic impression of Bocas is… old style, poor, hoping sailor town, a great place to go whoring and drinking or equally to simply vanish from the world. This is a place that would serve fine as a modern day set for a new Pirates of the Caribbean movie.

The Kuna to the East are an entirely different story. The Kuna, following an uprising in the 20’s, gained semi-autonomy. Several years ago they took the seemingly drastic measure of kicking out all foreigners living in or owning property (everyone not Kuna) they did this without paying for the land they recovered. This has allowed them tremendous control over their future. Where Bocas is fighting the loss of one of their best beaches (Red Frog Beach) to a large development the Kuna face no such issues. To outward appearances the Kuna appear every bit as poor as the Bocas locals, poorer even. But what the Kuna have achieved is sustainability and defacto independence. The tourist islands they manage are operated as non-profits and benefit the village not individuals. The vegetables served to the tourists are brought in which eliminates artificial price spikes to locally grown produce. They harvest coconuts and sell them to the Columbians. They have a relatively nice school are travel as far as Panama City to sell handicrafts. What I admire about the Kuna is that if tourism vanished overnight they would continue on with minimal disruption. While they use outboard motors to ferry visitors to the islands most of their fishing is done from hand paddled dugout canoes. The manage fish stocks to avoid overfishing. The jungle for 100’s of miles around their land is trackless and seemingly impenetrable.

Two populations in relatively close proximity yet worlds apart. The Kuna have a system worth study and imitation. They have much to offer other populations living sustainably in potentially prime tourist locations like the Hindu Kush and Karakorum.