The combined 13-plus hours of travel time were long but uneventful. Flying from Qatar to Hong Kong, I chatted with a studious British gentleman whose accent had kind of slowed to a crawl. Nice chap. I arrived in Hong Kong and quickly hopped onto my connecting flight to Narita Airport in Tokyo, more anxious than ever for my long-awaited reunion with Noriko and Rachel. Sure enough, I exited the terminal and saw them both waiting there for me, the two most beautiful sights I had seen in 10 months.

On the bus, Rachel sat in the window seat on the opposite side of the aisle and stared at the passing cars, occasionally glancing at me and flashing a quick smile before turning away again. I pulled a small turquoise teddy bear with a TALLIL AB, IRAQ T-shirt from my carry-on bag and handed it to her. The way she lit up and beamed a toothy smile before grabbing the bear is something I’ll never forget. By the time we reached the hotel, practically every shred of Rachel’s shyness toward me was gone. I was truly amazed at how fast she was able to kick-start her memory of who this strange tall guy actually was.

The next morning, we took an express train to the station nearest her parents’ house in the countryside town of Tsukui. Dinner that night was a tray of gourmet sushi of which I happily ate more than my fill. Gluttony – tasty, delicious gluttony – was the overriding theme Noriko’s mother adopted when preparing the meals throughout my two-week stay. Just when I had eaten enough miso soup, kimchi, rice and nattō to test even the heartiest eater’s appetite, out she would come from the kitchen with a tray of sliced vegetables, fruit and yogurt.

The centerpiece of my entire trip was the first Tuesday when the three of us took a two-day, two night trip to Tokyo Disneyland and Tokyo Disney Sea, which was an absolute blast. Rachel had never been to either and she knew we were going, but it wasn’t until we were headed to the park on the Disneyland Express train – where the familiar mouse-shaped silhouette was everywhere – that she really began to get excited. Once in the gates, we couldn’t run to each ride fast enough. Big surprise: Despite Rachel being fairly young for fast-paced theme park roller coasters, she couldn’t get enough of them. She was able to hang with big boys like Space Mountain and Tower of Terror, jumping with giddy excitement afterward and shouting, “Again! Again!”

It should be noted that everything Rachel actually said was in perfectly fluent Japanese, as I expected. It wasn’t as tough to converse with her as I thought it was going to be. I actually surprised myself, displaying more of a knack for the language than I ever remembered having – and I picked up even more as the days passed.

The remainder of my time was more or less spent simply relaxing and catching up with my family, with the occasional shopping-and-looking-around day thrown in for good measure. I picked up a few import CDs and some gear for my Nintendo DS (which has now become a bona fide investment, but that’s a post for another time).

I purposely scheduled my trip to be there for my birthday, Noriko’s birthday and Mother’s Day. Noriko’s fell on the first day of our Disneyland trip and mine was the following week. Her parents treated us all to lunch at a very posh traditional Japanese restaurant (individual courses, relaxed atmosphere, that sort of thing). From our individual dining room, we had a gorgeous view of lush, green fauna, a cascading waterfall and a koi pond.

Leaving was tough; I really didn’t want to go back to Iraq. Noriko’s parents, as always, were the most gracious hosts I could have hoped for. And I can’t explain in words how wonderful it was to be reunited with my family, however brief the visit may have seemed. I’m back and I already miss them dearly again, but we only have a few remaining weeks until our unit returns to the U.S., so it’s not all bad.

I can’t wait.

This blog is a bit late, I know, but I was a bit busy this week and still wanted to fill you in on how my weekend went.

As I said before, the third annual Boston Marathon in Iraq was held here at our base early Saturday morning. It kicked off at 5 a.m., so I set my alarm for an hour and a half earlier, giving me enough time to wake up, shower, shave and get dressed.

Being so early, it was pitch dark outside for the first third of the race. The lead runner was expected to reach the Ziggurat within 30 minutes, so that was our first stop. We arrived to find that not a single high-powered lamp had been set up at the site and the only illumination sources we had were the high beams of our four-wheel Gator and pocket flashlights. From what I hear, the halfway point of the race was lit up like a theater stage, but no such luck for a 4,000-year-old place of worship.

Anyway, what ended up happening was all 300-plus runners ended up passing us by before the sun had even thought about considering the possibility of coming over the horizon, and all of our photos were dark, blurry and unusable. So we headed back to the finish line and waited for everyone to come back.

The overall winner of the race was the same guy who has won every running event since I’ve been here: 1st Lt. Elias Gonzales, a Florida National Guard soldier who finished with a time of 2:35:50. The first-place female finisher was Staff Sgt. Jennifer Yurczk, who came in at 3:34:39.

The next evening, we hosted a simultaneous Iraq-Minnesota dinner where we were treated to thick grilled steaks that had been donated to us, and a few soldiers in the unit had the chance to see and talk to their families via a live video teleconference. (Picture at left: Sgt. 1st Class Timothy Knoblach flips a set of steaks
during the St. Paul-to-Iraq Steak Fry April 15 at Camp Adder, Iraq.)

Dinner started at about 8 p.m. local Iraq time (it was lunch time in Minnesota), but since our office was in charge of setting up cameras, a projector screen, a satellite and all sorts of other audiovisual equipment, our day began a bit earlier. It was a nice reward to sit down and enjoy a delicious meal after two and a half hours of taking photos and cueing a line of soldiers to speak into a microphone, wave and ignore the time delay.

Now I’m just counting the days until I’m in Japan ...

In other news, I finally got confirmed dates for my “R&R” trip to Japan early next month. It’s going to take a lot of preparation and paperwork before everything gets squared away, but from there I’ll have 15 days of vacation time with Noriko, Rachel and my parents-in-law at their house in the Tsukui countryside.

I had to attend a mandatory briefing this afternoon with a large group of fellow soldiers who will be taking R&R around the same time as me. An Army chaplain was the first person to speak to us, and he told us our two-week reunions with our families might not be all hugs, kisses and carefree relaxation like we might be expecting. My first thought was, “Uhh ... yes it will. I’ll get to see my wife and daughter for the first time in nine months. What’s not to like?”

Then the chaplain started to explain himself further, saying our families have readjusted to life without us in the weeks and months since we’ve been gone. They’ve taken on new and different responsibilities in our absence and in some cases have had a tough time doing it. I’ve had the fortune of knowing Noriko and Rachel have been in the best of care since they boarded a plane to Japan and I headed to South Carolina last July. My in-laws are wonderful people, and I’m extremely thankful they agreed to take on the additional burden of two extra tenants – one of them an endlessly energetic little girl – living in their long-empty house for an indefinite amount of time.

As for Rachel, she just turned 4 years old and won’t understand any explanation my wife or I give her as to why her Dada has been gone for so long. However, the chaplain said children between the ages of 4 and 11 are old enough to remember their parents after an extended absence and will be, for the most part, extremely excited to see them.

By far, the biggest change I’ll have to adjust to when I first arrive is the fact that, since being in Japan for the last nine months, Rachel has become completely and exclusively fluent in Japanese. Before we left El Paso she was fairly proficient in both of her parents’ home languages (and a bit of Spanish), but not anymore. I’m not worried; she’s a sharp girl and I’m sure she’ll be able to pick English back up once we return to the U.S.

I can’t wait until R&R, and I’m sure we’ll all have a great time, but it was nice to be made aware of all the facts beforehand.

Texas is home to its fair share of six- and eight-legged critters, winged nuisances and a plethora of various other pests that seemingly hang around all year to ruin our outdoor barbecues, birthday parties and trips to the park. The pint-sized insects of Iraq can’t even compare to some of the Lone Star State’s gargantuan, under-the-refrigerator residents, but in terms of pure swarm concentration, this place is unmatched.

We keep count of the kills. The ritual is equal parts annoying and cathartic.

The flies aren’t exclusive to areas of excessive filth or stench like garbage cans, portable toilets or stagnant ponds, either. They’re everywhere – by the basketball courts, in the barber shop, along the two-mile run course, around my laptop comp— knock it off! Stupid fly ...

Much smaller but infinitely more irritating than the fly is the gnat, thousands of which linger all over this post at eye level in thick, cloudy groups and end up in your ears and nose if you’re unfortunate enough to unknowingly walk through a swarm of them without realizing your mistake until it’s too late. Another one of the gnat’s favorite hangouts is the common bathroom sink. I tell you, there’s nothing that will spoil your morning quicker than waking up to brush your teeth and seeing hundreds of black specks drowned in small puddles around the faucet, like someone sprinkled cracked pepper all over the place. It negates the very principle of hygiene, and that’s not cool.

Mosquitoes, eager to ensure the other bugs aren’t cutting in on their action too much, hunt our arms, legs and necks with the same fervent blood lust as they do stateside. These guys own the night, stalking us as we take a load of laundry to be washed, go to the gym or sit outside to jam on acoustic guitars and shoot the breeze. They’re aggressive, too.

Insect repellent is a valuable and necessary commodity here. Your best bet before leaving your room in the morning is to spray down your uniform completely the night before and let it soak in. Dealing with the sickly-sweet smell of bug spray all day is a small price to pay for the connect-the-dots-like maze of red bites and bumps you’ll avoid later on.

This is one of the most-asked questions I get from friends and family members when I talk to them via e-mail or over the phone. I assume they have visions – as I did, before arriving here – of shoddy, makeshift tents crammed with dozens of soldiers sitting in a circle and using a cot for a table as they play Texas Hold ‘Em by flashlight. Contrary to their initial beliefs, I tell them there are actually much more activities available to us than there is time to participate in them all.

In addition to that, there are classes offered seven days a week for almost any specialty you can imagine. I’m quite partial to the abdominal class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The instructor is a petite female soldier and former gymnast who successfully manages to make muscle-bound grown men cry for mercy and clutch their guts in masochistic agony by the end of the class – and she barely breaks a sweat. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve been going there for three months now and have been getting pretty good at it. About three-quarters through each class, I reach what I like to call “abdominal nirvana,” where my stomach muscles are exercised to their peak and everything after that is just excess, like sharpening a pencil and seeing no more shavings fall away.

A military organization known as Morale, Welfare and Recreation is responsible for coordinating a wide array of on-post clubs and extracurricular activities. There are groups that meet weekly to play Dungeons & Dragons or Halo 2, watch Japanese animation, sing karaoke, practice Salsa dancing and listen to hip-hop, among others. Marathons, relay races and fundraising 5Ks are held with impressive regularity.

The USO, known best for Bob Hope’s appearances several decades ago, has sent several big-name bands, musicians and stand-up comedians to perform at our base – among them Grammy and American Idol winner Carried Underwood (whom I had the privilege to meet and interview). (Picture: Carrie Underwood performs a concert for soldiers Nov. 16 at Camp Adder, Iraq.)

There is a “lounge room” filled to the rafters with donated paperback books, magazines, board games and movies – and accompanying couches, tables and chairs on which to relax and enjoy these amenities.

Internet access and reasonably-priced phone services are available at several cafés throughout the base where soldiers can call home, check their MySpace pages and order stuff online (or e-mail blog entries to their hometown newspapers).

If I’m in my room, I usually spend my time watching DVDs, listening to music, playing my Nintendo DS or reading. I’m running low on 80-cent Air Mail stamps, but I also write letters to my wife or draw pictures for my daughter when I have the time. And sometimes I clean up (sorry, roomie).

I think it’s pretty obvious why there’s such an abundance of stuff for us to do during our off-duty hours. Probably more than anything, soldiers in a war zone need access to leisurely hobbies and certain creature comforts to take their minds off the stresses of the day.

Sgts. Derek Fry, left, and Cory Howland, both National Guard soldiers with the Brainerd, Minn.-based 1st Combined Arms Battalion, 194th Armor Regiment, take an afternoon break hitting golf balls at a makeshift driving range nicknamed "The Caddy Shack" March 14 at Camp Adder, Iraq.

In my five years as an active-duty servicemember I was never deployed, despite being there at the cusp of both Sept. 11 and the Iraq War. Therefore, my only viewpoint of the conflict was what I saw on the news. And what I saw wasn’t good.

And yet, here I was: once again in uniform and now a bona fide wartime journalist about to embark on his first mission after a short but comfortable break as the civilian editor of an Army newspaper, two years removed from my former existence as a soldier.

I won’t say I had forgotten everything the Army taught me – my writing and photography skills were obviously still fresh in my mind, and I had faint recollections of how to march in formation and properly fire a rifle – but I had, for the most part, moved on from that chapter of my life after proudly fulfilling my duty. So you can understand what a jarring ordeal it was for me to be suddenly thrust back into a military mindset and lifestyle – and in the middle of a war, no less.

A mere eight weeks earlier I had been at the Airport Hilton in El Paso, enjoying the last few days with my wife and daughter before they flew to Japan to stay with her parents for the duration of my deployment. As for me, I traveled to two Army bases in four weeks for “refresher” training before heading back to El Paso in order to be shipped overseas. Needless to say, it was a lot to take in.

I was still taking it in on the morning of Oct. 5, 2006, while preparing to hit the road for the aforementioned assignment. Members of our command were going to attend the unveiling of a new reverse-osmosis water treatment plant and a renovated playground, both of them built with the help of Army engineers and American civil affairs dollars. It would be my job to chronicle this event.

After hoisting 60-pound protective vests over our shoulders and onto our backs, we headed out on the road. Every cardboard box we passed, which looked like they had just been simply discarded on the side of the highway, was a potential explosive device in my mind. Every random pile of dirt or piece of trash seemed like a big boom waiting to happen. I didn’t know what to expect, so I just sucked in a deep breath and held it each time we drove by something that was even remotely out of the ordinary.

We arrived to our destination without incident, and the grand openings of the water plant and playground went off without a hitch. I saw children who were ecstatic to have a source of clean water in their town and a place to play together after school. The entire experience was nothing like I expected and was one of my most memorable assignments, considering it was just a simple ribbon-cutting.

And so we returned to base. I had successfully and safely completed coverage of my first wartime assignment.

It felt good.

A group of Iraqi children dance and laugh in the town of Al Batha, Iraq. They and several others had gathered to witness the grand opening of a new playground and reverse-osmosis water treatment plant that had been renovated with the help of U.S. Army engineers.

My name is Dustin Perry, I am 25 years old, and I am currently serving in Iraq as a photojournalist for the U.S. Army. I got my start in this line of work almost 12 years ago when I took Journalism as a freshman at Cooper High School. Need more of my ties to Abilene? I worked at H-E-B for two years and logged more than 900 hours as a junior volunteer at then-named Hendrick Medical Center.

I joined the Army after graduation (Class of ‘99!) and following a grueling nine weeks of basic training in Oklahoma, I was sent to the Defense Information School in Fort Meade, Md., to hone my craft as a news writer and photographer.

I served there as the sole public affairs specialist of the 31st Air Defense Artillery Brigade for a little more than a year. In September 2004, I had fulfilled my five-year enlistment contract and was honorably discharged from the military.

Right around that time, the Army’s Public Affairs Offices – more pertinently, their newspaper staffs – were in the middle of a branch-wide transition from soldiers to civilians. I jumped at the chance to land a job as editor of The Monitor, Fort Bliss’ official news publication. I got the job in December and had been enjoying it immensely for about 16 months – then, almost a year ago to the day, I got a sucker punch to the gut in the form of reactivation orders.

You see, a little-known stipulation to Army contracts is one that states no matter how long you initially enlist – be it three, four, five, six or however many years – you are actually obligated for eight years. After serving out your term, you have four typical options: reenlist, join the Reserve, join the National Guard, or join the Inactive Ready Reserve.

Everyone knows what the first three options mean, so I’ll break down that last one for the uninitiated. The Inactive Ready Reserve, or IRR, is a way to finish the rest of an eight-year contract without actually having to do the “one weekend a month, two weeks a year” gig. Those who join the IRR are still technically “soldiers,” they just don’t get paid for it and they never have to put on a uniform. This is the option I chose.

If at any time (say, during a war) the Army decides it further requires an IRR soldier’s services before their eight-year-free-and-clear date, an order can be sent to them reinstating them to active duty, most often for a deployment. I received these very orders in March 2006, a mere five months before I was to be free of my obligation.

And so, the journey began that eventually led me to being attached to the 1st Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry Division, a Minnesota National Guard unit based in Camp Adder near Nasiriyah.

This has been a wonderful experience and something beyond my dreams and expectations. BUT it shouldn't have been beyond anything. I have always lived by the quote: "we are limited only by our imaginations" so why didn't I ever dream about this? I guess my imagination was going in a different direction at the time. BUT no more!!!! Playwriting and play festivals in NYC are going to be a part of my dreams.

I have no idea what will come of my play - something will one of these days (I hope I get it finished first). But something has already moved into the developmental phases for TYCHO DE BRAHE where I play the the lead. Plans are in the works taking that play to Prague next summer in an cultural/educational exchange program that Baylor University has developed and maintained over the last five or six yeras. Now that sounds exciting - and another possibility that I never imagined - acting in Europe????? Another window - another adventure. (I hope Clydi Mae gets to go, too.)

THE END

Sunday was a busy day and began early - early for me in NYC. I don't think I ever got back to my hotel before 2:00 AM. If I did, I can't remember it - probably slept on the subway.

Tech rehearsal at noon on Sunday went well and we made a couple of changes in the script to better adapt to the space, etc. Nothin difficult, but everything has to be done without much notice or thought - you just go and do. The tech rehearsal was only an hour long so we had to move quickly in order to cover the entire script. We did it.

We had some downtime during the afternoon and went down to China Town for a late lunch (which turned out to be an early dinner as well - I guess eating two meals at once saves time - I don't know.) Woo Hops - a great little (and I mean little) basement restaurant with lots of great food and at a great price. We shopped a little along the street along with what seemed like 2 or 3 million other people all trying to walk along the sidewalk or shop where I was. BUT the weather was cool and beautiful. I love going down there - a different world. Found a great hat for Toryn and he loved it - hasn't taken it off since we bought it. I almost laughed when I looked at the label - Nordstrom's - can't help but wonder how it got down to China Town, but for the price, I asked no questions. I will accept a bargain anytime.

Then back uptown to Manhatten and the theatre district. We stopped by a great deli for a snack and to collect our thoughts before the performance. I was getting a little nervous by this point - not knowing what to expect. Cab ride across town to the theatre and to meet with the cast for last minute notes before the performance at 8:30 PM.

It was a small audience and at first I was disappointed, but then I realized that one should never be disappointed with windows of opportunity - just experience them. Here I was in NYC at an off-broadway theatre hosting a festival for new plays; both my children were performing; and a host of friends were involved as well. What a night! I can honestly say that six months to a year ago, I would have never believed I would be climbing through that window. I loved it and the moment.

As for the audience? NYC doesn't know me and I know only a handful of New Yorkers. It I was a New Yorker, I would have to think twice before I attended a play about West Texas - I would have probably thought it was a Western movie type of play with horses and everyone carrying pistols on their hips. Can't blame them. BUT I got some great and postive comments/suggestions and that is what I need. One of these days, I am going to finish this play and put it aside. I've worked with these characters so long, I feel like they are family. AND I've talked about them so much that one afternoon my mother asked me how Clydi Mae was doing. Clydi Mae is the main character in the play. That was when I realized that I had been consumed with the play.

The cast did a great job. I was delighted and as I listened to it and watched, I kept finding things that need to be changed/deleted/repaired. I guess it just never stops. I loved watching my daughted play Chester - the actor who played Chester had to drop out at the last minute) so I shoved Haley into the role of a 65 year old black man with no legs. She did a great job - handled the rhythm of the lines like a pro. I was delighted. This was the first time that Toryn, Haley, and I have ever appeared on stage at the same time and that was a wonderful experience.

Monday, was a low key day - we slept in and then headed to Central Park for an afternoon of doing nothing, but watching those little motorized sail boats on one of the ponds. Also got in some great people watching as well as observing this pair of hawks that had built a nest over one of the windows of a high rise apartment building. New Yorkers were fascinated with it and I couldn't help but wonder why those birds chose that location - with all those big trees in the park. The next building and onlookers reminded me of that pair of eagles that built their next on the Llano River near Llano a couple of years ago. People came from everywhere to have a look - so did I. But at least the eagles chose a tree.

Monday's performance was much tighter and precise. I got a much better feel for the rhythm and temp of the play. It is difficult to feel that when I just sit and read it. Hearing it really helps. I'm also surprised by some of the line readings---not quite the way I hear it, but they work.

After the last performance we headed to a cafe/bar called DRUIDS - over on 10th Avenue. It was a great place and new to me - I am looking forward to going back again.

It was great seeing some Abilene graduates - they all live and work here now. Luke Longacre, of course. He played J.J. for me and I was surprised to hear him use a West Texas accent - all I've ever heard from him was 'no accent' - which is what actors try to maintain. He did a great job. He is such a great guy and makes Abilene proud - I know his parents are proud of him.

Thomas Leverton and Rachel Knowles, both CHS graduates, dropped by and sat in on our rehearsal on Saturday evening. Rachel came to the show on Sunday.

Kirsten Chilstrom (another CHS graduate) came to the show last night. It was great visiting with her and hearing about her classes at the Fashion Institute.

Thanks guys and gals - I appreciate the support and it is always great seeing you.

And thanks to the phone calls from friends and colleagues in Abilene---can't wait to tell you about it.

And thanks to Marsha Moore who came up for the performances. I appreciate the support and advice. Always great to have a good ear to listen and make wonderful suggestions.

And thanks to everyone at Baylor - there is a big group of Baylor graduates that I have had the opportunity of working with over the last five or six years. It is always a pleasure visiting with you.

Today is Tuesday, and I got up early to get Haley to the airport and back to San Angelo. She had to go to work this afternoon. Hope she makes it. The weather channel indicates storms/rain along the way.

Toryn and I are flying out later this afternoon and then back to class in the morning. Students - get ready - we have several big projects coming up quickly and we have a lot of work to do.

So this is Tim signing off - my adventure here in NYC is winding down and I'm moving on to the next project.

Thanks Janet and Laura - I appreciate having this opportunity. CALL ME!!!

Crazy night last night - just trying to get to the rehearsal studio for DOMINO rehearsal. This town has everything - and we had a great studio for rehearsal. In fact the whole building was used just for that purpose. So while we were rehearsing in one studio, we could hear someone singing opera in the next. Great singers. I was impressed.

Good rehearsal - just not enough time to get everything done like I wanted. We have a great cast, and Haley is going to play Chester. When push comes to shove, you just have to use what's, available and Haley is available and a wonderful actress. She knows the script and the town and the West Texas mentality. She is going to make a great Chester. She asked, however, if she was going to have to play it without legs because Chester lost both of his legs in an accident. Couldn't help but laugh as she reached for a script and took on the character of Chester. What fun!!! Another window of opportunity???? Who knows, but it works for me.

This morning we are off to a tech rehearsal and then prepare for a performance this evening. Can't wait. I'm nervous. I'm excited. I'm in NYC and my play is going to read off-broadway. What a day.

More later.

Another busy day - without much sleep. Is this the city that never sleeps? I can't remember, but if it isn't - it should be. And about those free hot dogs - its true. At least they said they were free and if I paid for them, I have no idea how they got my money. I have a feeling I paid for them somehow, though. hummmmmmm

Performance this afternoon of TYCHO. Another great audience and a good show. I think it may have been a little better than last night. It felt better, anyway.

And on a another note, I had a call from the actor I had cast as Chester and he had to drop out. Not exactly what I wanted to have happen because I really need Chester to be played by a middle aged black actor. The role of Chester is somewhat based on a man that lived and worked in Roscoe. He was a great guy and very much a part of the community. I have been on the phone trying to locate another actor, but without luck. I am still working on that and awaiting return messages. I'm not that worried about it - something will turn up. Maybe it's one of those window/door opportunities - -time will tell.

Must run for now. Meeting Toryn and Haley in a few minutes and then dinner and then rehearsal at 7:00 - can't wait.
More later.
tim

Well, my adventure began with an hour delay out at the Abilene Airport so I sat and watched the sun come up----great view from there. It gave me some time to think about what was going on and I kept seeing the expression in my dog Hooch's eyes when I told him he couldn't go with me. He was so disappointed because he had a ball, a stick, and a partially stuffed animal all wrapped up in that stinky ole goat skin. I just left him standing in the middle of my road with dust clouding around his big toothy grin. See you later Hooch!!!

The delay caused me to miss my connection in Houston which cramped my schedule, but sometime things happen for a reason. I guess we can call it a serendiptious moment----I am sometime amazed at how many doors and windows are available to us if we just take the opportunity to experience them---and that is what I was able to do. My seat companions from Houston to New York were SFASU art professors. They began teaching there just about the time I left---SFA is my undergraduate alma mater. We had a great time visiting about the school, common friends, etc. It was a great flight and now I have some great friends. They are 3-D artists---mainly ceramics and they have just opened a show at the Tyler Museum. Tyler has a great museum and one that I enjoyed visiting when when I lived in East Texas. It's well worth the time.

Thursday was mainly a day for travel---the daylight hours anyway. I checked into my hotel, quickly unpacked and headed out for the subway and Manhatten. Rehearsal for TYCHO DE BRAHA began at 7 PM and we finally finished about 1 AM. I finally made it back to my hotel at 2---exhausted, but feeling like I was a working actor here.

I stood on the platform for the train last night and enjoyed the cooler weather. What a change. It really feels like fall here---not just the last days of summer like home.

This morning, I had to get up early and head into the city to secure a rehearsal space for my play DOMINO. I found a great studio for that and one that I can afford for 4 hours. Things are so different here. Just getting from one place to another requires more concentration on my part---not only because I'm not accustomed to the ins and outs of NYC, but it is necessary to carry everything you are going to need for the day---AND that is a big challenge for me. Rehearsal clothes, performance clothes, subway map, my Metro card, my money, my cell phone, and anything else you can think of. I felt like I was traveling to California with that GRAPES OF WRATH family---looked like it, too.

We had a final rehearsal to TYCHO at 1 PM up on the East Side---90th. The playwrites 23rd floor apartment---what a view of Central Park and Manhatten and what a price tag. He seemed delighted with the cost---I was flabbergasted.

I found a Starbucks after the rehearsal and tried to get a note off to you, but a woman sitting next to me was apparently listening in on a phone conversation---anyway, she said she was a playwrite and wanted to know more about what I did, etc. She was delightful----and said she wanted to bring a friend of hers to see my show--DOMINO. I was excited about that until she said her friend was a theatre critic---now that scares me to death. Whether she comes or not---it is still one of those open windows. I got her email address so we can stay in touch. More friends.

Toryn arrived this evening----great to see him. He got here just in time to see TYCHO. He will be playing Little Joe in DOMINO.

Well, I made my acting debut in NYC tonight---at least off broadway. The performance went great and it was a lot of fun. Very nice size crowd and very appreciative. I loved it.

Right now, I am sitting in Starbucks writing this and listening to Toryn and Anna (one of my past students and schoolmate with my kiddos.) They are talking nonstop and laughing a lot. I can't get a word in edgewise---just like the old days when they were in high school.

We are headed to some place called Rudy's---they say they have free hot dogs----surely there's a catch to that. I guess I will find out. The only thing in NYC that I have found that is free are those thousands of pamplets that people hand out on the street and they can keep those. I don't want them.

Tomorrow---another performance of TYCHO and then rehearsals for DOMINO tomorrow night. Very exciting.
More later.

Sometime I wonder why I ever choose to go out of town. The preparation is almost overwhelming and this adventure has been a long time in the making. Set designs, acting roles, rehearsing at Baylor, co-directing a fall show, designing and building the set for the CHS Marching Band Half-time Show, casting two class productions, teaching classes, and working on our musical production of CATS. Just making a list is exhausting, BUT I have enjoyed every minute of probably the busiest fall I could imagine. I am so grateful for a great place to work, great associates & colleagues, and great students. Nothing would or could have taken place without each of them. So once again, I say: 'I appreciate each you.'

Very busy day preparing lesson plans, saying good-byes, giving last minute instructions, and making last minute arrangements. I can't remember the days before cell phones and laptops and email and voicemail. Thank goodness for technology and that I am able to crawl along in the midst of it.

During my last minutes at work this afternoon, I was so encouraged by watching Kristie Perkins choreograph a couple of students in a number from CATS. They are already fantastic and it's just October. The musical doesn't open until February---just can't wait to see them then.

And of course I had to drop by Starbuck's on Buffalo Gap for an evening cup of brew and a quick chat with my coffee pals before I head home, finish packing (Like I've already started!!!! hahaha) And I have to run by the grocery store for a bag of food for my crazy dog Hooch. He probably wonders where I go all the time.At least he has this old goat skin that he brought home to play with and to keep him company-----it is gross, but he really loves it. He wants me to play 'keep away'----and I just wish he would----keep away from me with that nasty smelling thing.

Some last minute phone calls to make to my own kiddos as we finalize our plans in NYC. Where and when to meet, etc. And we get to work with Anna McLaughlin, one of my past students and close friends with my kids---they all went to school together in Big Spring. This will be the first time Toryn and Anna have been on stage together since they graduated. That will be fun.

So the time has come----my suitcase awaits. And 4:30 AM is going to come earlier than usual. I wonder if I will be able to sleep tonight---I wonder if I will sleep for the next week.

More later.
Tim

I had packed everything the night before so I was anxiously waiting for Fardeen and Sarah to pick me up and take me to the airport for my trip home via Dubai. I was glad for a day layover there in case the three hour trip was too much for my miserable back. I was also looking forward to staying in the net Twin Towers of Dubai, a swanky 4 star hotel that was part of the modern Arab world.

We arrived at the airport a couple of hours before flight time and parked in the lot designated. No curbside check-in at the Kabul international airport! Fortunately, there were porters available to carry luggage and off we went with me hobbling behind the Afghan track star and hoping my tip would offset the value of the luggage if he disappeared into the distance. The track star was waiting as I arrived at security and eagerly accepted my $5.00 tip, putting my bag on the conveyor belt and hurrying off for fresh customers.

I said good by to my friends, Sarah Johnston and Fardeen Hussami who had been so supportive of my work with the students and assisted me the last day at the hospital. They were terrific. I turned from the last minute hugs and entered the magic arch knowing it wouldn’t buzz because I had unloaded every conceivable metal source of concern.

Nevertheless, I was patted down anyway. Shoes were not removed as in the U.S, but the bags, carryon and checked were opened and examined thoroughly. At the last inspection, I opened my shaving kit to the inspectors request and he promptly confiscated my backpacking shaving mirror. It was a curious but minor loss. I passed on to the waiting room where I went through an identical examination and passport check, finally ending up in a waiting room with a couple of dozen Afghans.

It was a contrast between the modern and the ancient. The plain white plastered walls of the room were devoid of decoration of any kind. No pictures, no instructions, and the single sign was “Internet” with an arrow pointing down the hall. I thought it metaphorical. The entire city was a curious mix of the new and the old. The people and the buildings. I stayed in a modern hotel with beautiful gardens and outside the gate, adobe and ancient buildings and people with ancient customs.

Looking around, I found a seat opposite two Afghan men with long black beards wearing white. In fact, the entire room was filled with men wearing white or a light pastel dress like top that reached below the knees with a pair of white leggings underneath that came to the tops of the shoes. Most had “haj” caps on their heads and black or tan vests that were unbuttoned. The only other person wearing a “gimmie cap” in the entire room was an ex-marine contractor on his way for R&R. The Afghan men all struck identical postures: one leg folded under the other which was extended to to floor or hiked to the bench.

The atmosphere was thick with smoke and hot and humid. There was a long line at the counter where water could be purchased. The floor was dirty but the seats were good with lumbar support for my back which soon stopped hurting.

A few women with their children began to filter in. They were uniformly dressed in black with the veil covering their mouth and lower nose. All that showed were the eyes which were heavily decorated. They held their heads cast down and looked no one in the eye. A few Anglos began to enter and sat together in a group. The western women quickly placed their ear buds in place and hooked in the ipods, insulating themselves from everyone.

There was a buzz of conversation in the room. As I observed the men across from me I was startled to see the red stain on both their hands. I knew it was from Friday’s religious celebration but it looked as if they had just dressed a sheep. Perhaps the color fooled the flies also because they were buzzing about everywhere.

The flight to Sharja went quickly. Perhaps it was the medication because I slept most of the way which was unusual. We arrived in mid-afternoon and after more passport checks and x-rays, I quickly caught a cab to Dubai which was about 30 minutes away. The hotel was beautiful and I checked in quickly and continued my nap till time for dinner. I treated myself to a very fine martini in the 51st floor bar and planned the next day’s activities as the sun sank toward the horizon with the ubiquitous sandy tan sky.

The bar was modern and efficient and staffed by a tall, athletic black man with a shaved head and a commanding presence. Very polished. The waitress who came to my table was young and attractive. She had signed on with the hotel for a two year contract and came from Uzbekistan. It was her chance to see the world. The only flaw was the improbable use of photographs of the hotel on the walls which were hung over other wall decorations and the dirty windows that were the result of yesterdays sandstorm.

The bar began to fill up with young attractive men and women, well dressed with expensive clothes worn casually. The men were tie-less and had their shirttails hanging out. The women had everything hanging out. Not too appropriate for a Moslem country
I thought of the enormous gulf that separated the tribal culture of Afghanistan from the modern Arab world of Dubai. It was bigger than the Gulf of Arabia that I had flown over that day and I wondered if it would last as long.

Monday

After breakfast in the room, I dressed and began to explore the hotel. It was vast with convention rooms, spas, exercise gyms---the works. I scheduled a massage for the afternoon hoping it would be beneficial for my back. Alice would like a small present, I knew, so my first stop would be the famous gold souk that contained hundreds of shops. Most of the goods were similar: elaborate gold necklaces, earrings, rings and bracelets [called bangles]. All were made from 22 caret gold. Each store posted the price of gold by weight and the items were sold based on weight.

The gold souk was famous. Alice and I had visited there 25 years before and little had changed. I enjoyed walking down the interior aisles and looking in the windows. The place was a hive of activity. Many Europeans and Arabs from Saudi Arabia, other states of the U.A.E. and Asia came there to shop for gold and diamonds. Many of the diamond cutters from Brussels and other European centers have moved to Dubai and it was now one of the main centers of the world for fine jewelry.

I saw an unusual bracelet in a window that I thought Alice might like so I went in and made the purchase. Unlike Afghanistan, credit cards were accepted and the business style was definitely western.

My flight to Zurich left from Sharja so I returned the next morning in time for a 1:50 am depature. I was able to sleep for most of the 7 hour journey to Zurich and after about a four hour wait, I boarded American Airlines with business class seating for the 11 hour flight to Dallas. It gave me ample time to meditate on the experiences of the week.

I recognize that my contacts with Afghan and Dubai people were limited and the time of contact only a week, but certain things emerged.

First the children:

They were uniformly courteous and attentive and as the week progressed, more and more comfortable with my presence. They laughed and teased as easily as American kids but seemed more focused on the work and less on other things. They were “after it!”. When I conducted my one on one interviews, I found they had vary similar backgrounds: large families, one or both parent s missing or ill, and dependent on work to help support the family. They were artistic, liked Americans but were scared of our military and the news reports of so many Afghan deaths in our pursuit of the Taliban.

They were appreciative of American support of their country but had no idea where the money went but everyone thought it was mostly lost due to local corruption in the political system. The last thing they told me was, “Don’t leave us!”

The country:

Terribly backward by first world standards. The country has been devastated by repeated wars for the last 25 years. Electricity spasmodic, streets unpaved, infrastructure degraded. The country survives, however, because the people are survivors. They have met adversity and have managed to wrestle it to the ground. The people I met were very friendly to westerners, or at least, to me. The teachers in the school, the shop keepers, the staff in restaurants---all were uniformly polite and happy to serve me or help me in some way.

Politically, they all are tainted by the Arab press in their hatred for Israel and our support for Israel. They view Israel as the invader who has wrestled the land from the legitimate owners and it is one of the bases for the current radical hatred of things western.

Headlines in the Dubai newspaper shouted “Nasrallah: US pushing for Lebanon war to rage”
In the body of the paper, they wondered why we couldn’t understand why they [Arabs] hated us.

“[Karen Hughes] was to improve the image of the United States in the Arab world and win the hearts and minds of Arabs, lost for some time because of Washington’s blind support of Israel and its bloody invasion of Iraq. With the outrageous policy Washington is now espousing, in the Israeli war on Lebanon, Hughes’ job is indeed mission impossible.”

Other negatives are our culture and religion although our culture is pervasive in Arab countries. Everywhere are western tee shirts and music, MP-3 players and internet cafes. They have absorbed our technology and hate us for it. Not as individuals, but as a blanket condemnation of the west. This hatred is created and nurtured by the Mullahs who preach constantly of a return to the basic life as structured by the Koran.

In Dubai and other more westernized Arab countries they are happy to do business with us but this attitude lies under the surface everywhere.

Strangely, the ethics of Islam do not seem to play out everywhere in the culture. Corruption is rampant and just as in Christian societies, there are bad people.

Finally, the trip was very worthwhile in my view. I remember the starfish story where the man on the beach said, “... it made a difference to that one!” If my visit made a difference to even one of the kids or one of the persons I came in contact with while there, it would make it successful. If even one of them related to me as an American Christian who cared enough to come at my own expense to help them and if that person remembers that we aren’t all demons, it would be enough. I hope to keep in touch with the kids and ASCHIANA and follow their progress. I am now working on an exhibition of the children’s photography to show in the United States.

Bill Wright
August 2006

Sarah and Faideen arrived on schedule to pick me up and deliver me to the Kabul hospital for some help with my back. The pain had not diminished but was being controlled somewhat by the Advil I fortunately had in my kit. I took the back seat of the van so that I could stretch out my legs and we started off through the heavy morning traffic.

The hospital was located some distance from the hotel so I had a chance to seen more of the city as we traveled along. I opened the window and shot a few pictures of the roadside vendors as we stopped periodically for traffic.

The main streets in Kabul are paved but much of the city is not. There is a persistent dusty atmosphere that casts every view in a light tan wash. Everyone seems to have a dry mouth. Business is being done everywhere. It seems the Afghans are a nation of merchants from my view from the back of the van. Much of their goods are displayed on the sidewalk which results in a profusion of color where the goods are fabrics and plastic, Auto parts and equipment of various types cast a more somber values of black and gray.

The traffic cleared somewhat as we neared the hospital and we pulled up in front of the security gate. I was dismayed at the large crowd of perhaps 300 or more people waiting to enter.

There was a lot of pushing and shoving and Fardeen parked the car and while I waited, he walked to the gate and talked with the guard. Soon I saw him wave and Sarah and I made our way through the crowd and slipped inside. As I turned to see the gate close behind me, I saw it slammed on the arm of a man desperately trying to enter. I don’t think I made any friends among the crowd.

Walking to the main building, Sarah whispered, “ I hate the class system that gives us the ability to move ahead of all these people.” I felt bad about it also but with my back hurting, I felt that maybe is was a legitimate triage that allowed me to go ahead. At least I didn’t feel guilty enough to go back to the end of the line.

I quickly made my mind up that I would not trade my comfortable bed at the Serena Hotel for anything the hospital had to offer. The pain couldn’t be bad enough to lay my head down in this primitive facility. People were laying on the floor, I couldn’t determine if there was any air conditioning and there was a discouraging smell of sickness in the air.

I positioned myself at the end of a line before the entrance window while Fardeen disappeared down the hall. Soon he returned and guided me down a corridor and up a flight of stairs to the treatment rooms. Dr. Green appeared and greeted me and said that he would see that I was seen immediately. I was taken to a treatment room that was remarkable clean and organized and soon another doctor arrived who was a volunteer from the mid-western U.S. He was an osteopath by training and a member of a evangelical Christian congregation in his home town. He told me that he volunteered each year in this hospital. He had my deepest respect for attempting to bring modern medicine to the people of Kabul.

As I lay on the table he poked my back and told me he thought that the problem would eventually go away with anti-inflamatory drugs and he said that they had recently received some back braces that he also thought would help. He gently gave my back an “adjustment” crack or two and went to get the brace. The door was open to the examining room and I could see and hear the traffic outside in the hall. People were coming and going and all seemed to be in order---a contradictory space in all the outside chaos.

Soon, he returned with the brace and gave me some stronger pain medication that I could use on the airplane if things got too bad. I was grateful and walked out to meet Sarah and Fardeen. We paid our bill of $80 and left. The crowd had cleared at the gate, whether they were all admitted or not, I do not know but I wished them luck as I left.

I continued taking photographs through the window of the van on my way back to the hotel and hopped the trip tomorrow would be easy. I was already feeling more confident about the trip home.

Next: Dubai and home