Iraq and back

Shortly before our glorious trip to Spain, I went to Iraq for a week. Like most of my travel to locations that rank high on the “most likely place to catch scabies” list, it was for work (duh). And, like most of those places, I wouldn’t recommend going there for any reason whatsoever … unless that reason, of course, is money. Or great work experience. Or, let’s see, free movies, free housing, great gyms within walking distance, eight hours of sleep every night, interesting work, foreign experience, and all the food you can imagine.

Oh man the food…the FOOD! We’re not talking “Army chow” (usually summed up by the onomatopoeia “glop.”) We’re talking lobster and steak dinners … maybe a pastrami on rye from the Panini bar. Or maybe quesadillas with a side of butter chicken. And all the cake, ice cream, cookies, and frozen yogurt to fill out those remaining belt notches. (No wonder the Army is as fat as it’s ever been!)

Seriously, though, the trip was great. I went “outside the wire” a few times to visit some project sites, but wasn’t as neurotic as I thought I was going to be about noticing peculiar objects on the side of the road that could contain explosives. In fact, I was so trusting of the civilian security team that I fell asleep in every excursion we went on. Maybe it was my way of dealing with anxiety. Or all the ice cream.

I went to create a few amazing recruiting videos and will perhaps show them here when they’re done. Perhaps.

I didn’t see anything THAT out of the ordinary when I was there. Other than this little girl in a wedding dress in the village of Serishka, which I was told was a village of Satan worshippers. Yes, Satan worshippers. The truth, it turns out, is that they believe god created the world and left its care to seven angels, one of these being “Shaytan,” the same name the Koran has for Satan.

Anyway, I ate well, slept well, worked hard, saw two dust storms, and was rained on. That’s about the extent of my trip. Good thing I’m not single, or I’d most definitely consider going back....mostly for the food.

Picos de Europa

In my next life I wanna be a goat. But not just any goat. Especially not the Naval Academy’s goat, “Bill.” Lord knows what those college kids would do to me.

I wanna be a wild mountain goat that lives off the kindness of hikers in the Picos de Europa mountains in Northern Spain. It is perhaps … nay … it IS the most beautiful spot that we’ve visited since we’ve been here in Europe. Period. And as you know we travel quite a lot. 

First off, it was Spain, where el Sol makes more appearances than he does here in Germany. Here’s a view of Frankfurt as we left.

And here’s Santander from the air. Doesn’t that just seem more pleasant?

Next there were mountains. Not only the neatly formed snowcapped kind you’d find in Switzerland that amateur hikers like Kate and I can only look at. But the rugged, scrubby kind that we could actually climb if we wanted.

Then there’s the interesting topography formed by different levels of rock solubility. Technically (according to google), this is “karstification.” I don’t care what it is, I just think it’s beautiful.

And for those seeking baby photos, yes, Elizabeth came along too.

We made sure she came, even if we had to smuggle her in the back of our rental car. (Attention crazy people: We didn’t really do this. This is a photo of me changing her while in the mountains. The options were the trunk or the ground. We’re not cruel parents. We swear.)

It was her first of hopefully many trips outside Germany and her first flight and she did exceedingly well. And although they no longer require passports for travel in most of Western Europe, Kate and I consider her passport “stamped.”

Also here’s a picture of Kate practicing one-upmanship after hearing about Selma Hayek breastfeeding a starving baby in Sierra Leone. After hearing about the dramatic population decline of the only native wild bear population north of the Alps, Kate decided it was best to donate her milk to a poor cub.

Hmmm… maybe I ought to rethink this whole goat thing. If my neighbors were starving bears than I would be ... lunch?

Oh, and to show you what I mean about living off the kindness of hikers, here's a video that should illustrate my point: