The electricity has cut out about seven times this morning. I promise never to curse when a light bulb in my flat blows ever again. Our little hotel has ceiling fans and aircon - and boy do you miss it when it's gone! The wind blows hot and dusty so no relief from open windows either.
Usually the generator kicks in and you at least get some power back, maybe one of the lights and one ceiling fan, sometimes more, sometimes less - I can tell you we all look gorgeous in head torches, but it's a little tricky to have a conversation when you've got someone else's light whacking into your eyes...
Two paragraphs in and the generator hasn't spluttered into life yet - hey ho... just keep going until my brain fries.
There is order and chaos in equal measure. The traffic is mind blowing - sometimes you just have to sit back and laugh - no traffic lights working, no direction, road with holes blown in them you veer around, concrete bridges blown to nothing and light steel replacements with helpful signs like "one vehicle at a time" written in English - in your dreams!
The other day we were stuck for nearly two hours. Iraqi people are incredibly helpful, so they all got out of their cars to help - enough said, hey?
The cause of that jam was an overturned US army jeep. Further down the track stood one solitary young GI - with a gun almost as big as him and a nervous look on his face. There are teenage soldier boys everywhere you look. We are getting used to the images and noises now -the sound of tanks rumbling by the hotel no longer makes us even raise our heads, let alone rush to the window to look. Sporadic gunfire, be it at night or during the day, brings only a small break in conversation, simply to note it.
I was told that many of the soldiers are not able or allowed to get news from home - I don't know if it's true, but for sure, they always ask what is going on in the rest of the world when you meet them.
I want the rest of the world to know what is going on here first.
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