Last I wrote was more than month ago and I spent most of this past month outside the sandbox. I went on vacation to Southeast Asia, to Thailand. Country where the most twisted dreams could come true or the diverse mesmerizing backdrops will persuade one such as me to go AWOL.

The day we left Warstan, walking out of the gates at the airport towards the airplane suddenly felt like I was there for a very long time. Me, Popolski and some others were all yelling nonsense back at anyone who was staring at us leave, joking we were never coming back. A sense of freedom engulfed us.

I met up with my brother in Thailand. We spent most of our time in the southern islands. The first few days were spent on the beach. We were in the water for hours fighting against the waves. At night, even though I’m not much of a drinker, drinking was mandatory. Every few days we hopped from one island to another. I don’t remember the last time I did something alone with my brother, so backpacking in Thailand turned out to be our first time together in a long time.

We went kayaking a few times. At one point we paddled to monkey beach hoping to see monkeys. I brought food, expecting I could feed the monkeys, pet them and play with them. I was wrong. The food was a bad idea. The monkeys were fierce and they were making loud noises while they were running after me. I was screaming and running all around with the bananas in my hands, while my brother was laughing and filming the whole spectacle.

Despite the fact that I was enjoying myself in Thailand being away from the warzone and even joking sometimes about going awol(absent without leave) and hiding on one of the islands, not a day went by that I didn’t think about Warstan. Every day I was thinking about what my buddies were up to in the sandbox. No matter how much I was getting addicted to the whole Thailand experience, another kind of addiction was boiling up inside of me. One that hopefully is temporary.

The three weeks with my brother was three weeks that I’ll never forget. We had fun, we shared a few laughs and a few awkward moments and then we said our goodbyes. Now I’m back in the sandbox and the temperature is only getting higher.

We had our first 2 beers a few days ago! Ah, there's nothing better than drinking cold beer on a nice hot day. After a whole month of no alcohol, every sip felt like the first. I saved my second beer and the next day I went on the roof by myself. I drank my beer with the Arabic nuts I received from back home. It sure felt like home.

It's sure getting hot here. During the walks, you will be soaking wet no matter what. So every shadow we are under is a plus, every small breeze we get is refreshing. We have two options when it comes to which path we take. Main roads or Cross country. First one is obvious. Cross country is exceptional. Going over walls, walking on walls, walking through marshy fields is not so fun, especially at night time when you can't make out the distance over a waterway. The only fun we get out of this is watching buddy fall. Igor who is behind me had many laughs. I fell so many times in so many ways that I started laugihng too. Falling down walls, falling face first in muddy water is something. When you come out muddy and sweaty on the other side, you say you've been through Vietnam.

We have two K9 handlers with us. They both come form 2 different countries, one from the Philippines and the other from Tanzania. Both have backgrounds so different from one another and yet they both ended up having similar jobs. It's funny in a way how people who come from struggling countries have no choice, but to come to Warstan to get a well paid job to support their families back home. And on the other hand, most of us NATO soldiers choose to come play in the sandbox. We have so many choices back home, yet we chose differently. What drives us to come halfway around the world into the unknown is a question I will not answer, because there are many reasons behind it and I'm not a good debater.

About a month ago, a friend went to the laundry room and opened the drying machine to find an explosive inside. this created havoc in the base. It didn't last long before they found out that it was only a training explosive used by one of the K9 handlers to train his dog.

What drives a trained dog to do his job, to risk his life searching for real explosives? A Biscuit. If only our reasons were as simple as the dogs'.

I'm out now. Next time you hear from me will be from Thailand!

It has been almost a month I’m in Warstan and in a country so far away and unknown for most people, every day is a different day. Every day I wake up not knowing what I will see on the job, who I will meet, what news I will hear from the outside world. It’s the not knowing that thrills me and scares me at the same time.

The walks in the villages have become frequent. Most of these villagers live off their crop and their lifestyle has been the same for hundreds maybe even thousands of years. You take a walk in these villages and look at these simple people who are working in their fields and minding their business in their own bubble. It doesn’t look like a warzone; instead it looks so peaceful… until shit hits the fan just like when an unexpected rain falls on a clear sunny day. My sergeant always tells us, we don’t decide when the rain falls, they do.

Who are they?

I like to express them as the Lost Cause group. From my understanding, these people; these combatants; these jihadists; these freedom fighters; these insurgents… that fight us are lost in their cause. They are illiterate, uneducated and lost souls who fight for their property, their family and their belief. They are only chess pieces to someone’s agenda. This someone makes his pieces believe that whatever they are fighting for is really fundamental on a bigger scale and their evidently righteous path will take them to absolution.

It is true that you get to meet new people here almost every day. Yesterday I was playing volleyball with Warstani soldiers. To my surprise, they were playing like pros. I thought my days of volleyball playing back in Canada would help me, but I was wrong. I came out to be the weakest link in my team. After the game, the Warstani soldiers invited me for tea. I gladly accepted the invite. I brought an interpreter with me because of the language barrier. As I got into their barrack, curious faces turned towards me. Instead of tea, they had supper set up, Warstani style. They insisted me to eat with them. Out of respect, I had to accept even though I had supper an hour before. I sat down on the carpet, refusing the fork they were offering. I told them I would be one of them tonight, sitting and eating like them. Being a lefty, the first mistake I did was eating with my left hand. I corrected that quickly. After supper, we had tea. We told stories about our countries, our lives, our differences.

All these curious tired faces were all staring at me, listening carefully to my stories. Usually I’m the quiet shy person when I’m surrounded by a group of people. But here I was the center of attention. The leader of this group asked me a question. What of the future of our country? I thought for awhile. Tough question. Then in a few words, I explained to them. Warstan had peaceful times, and with help from outside, this country will see the light of day again, on a longer term. I wasn’t so sure about the longer term part...

My apologies for the late blog.

I am in Warstan. The reason why I named this place Warstan is not because it’s a warzone and bombs are falling all the time, but because this place has been fighting different wars for many years and peace only comes as a glimpse every other year. And no, bombs are not falling all the time; it’s quiet most of the time.
There’s a lot happening here that I will not be able to write about, otherwise I would be writing a book instead of a blog. I will write about events that you could say … captivated me.

How I’m taking it?
Surprisingly I’m not as stressed as I thought I would be. Apart from the snoring symphony that is happening in my room, I am sleeping somewhat well. My komrads are also keeping it cool. It’s only been a week, but hopefully the cool will stay until the end.

How is it?
It is beautiful. We came at the right time. The rain season has almost ended. There’s a lot of green everywhere. When the sun is down, it’s pretty chilly. During the day, the heat is not as grueling as it will be in the summer. It gives us time to adapt. Also the “tulip” cultivation period starts in a week!
I have a funny way of putting things. Let’s just say I have a movie mindset that is helping me cope with things here. When we first arrived at our second location, the place looked like Planet Tatooine from Stars Wars. Looking outside our site, the surrounding villages reminded me of Jerusalem during the time of Jesus that I’ve seen in movies. We went for a walk in the villages close to our site. The locals were friendly to us. We made sure everyone in our group had a basic knowledge of the language spoken here. It helped a lot. People were more receptive towards us. Popolski, one of my komrads, greeted people with a thick accent and it made them laugh. Children were asking for pencils. Other groups had the bad experience of getting rocks thrown at them by the local kids. I found our first interaction with the villagers was successful and I’m hoping it will stay that way until the end.

At one point, engineers needed to blow up old c4 explosive blocks, so 5 of us walked to a nearby crowd to alert them to stay down. Boris aka Sarge, our small group commander was in charge. As we got close to the crowd, I noticed they had huts set up. I quickly realized that these people were nomads who are known as Kuchis. I remembered reading about them somewhere. I never thought of meeting Kuchis so I was excited. Kuchis are known to be wanderers who travel across the south desert of Warstan and the two surrounding countries. They are traders and they tend to stick to their own business. They are considered friendly, but also armed which got me a bit worried. We approached 3 kids and we tried to explain to them the situation. They had a hard time understanding, so I and Boris went behind a pile of dirt and we lied on the ground so they would do the same. I remembered how to say “lie down” in their language which made things simpler. I went to warn the few others who were standing close to the huts. I kept saying “peurmzaka priooza(lie down)” and boom boom. As I was chatting with the rest of the people, I heard Boris in the distance. He was saying “GO HABS GO”, hoping the kids would say it too, which made me smile. After the BOOM, we emptied our pockets and gave them our pens. We said our goodbyes and we left. I kind of wished I knew their language better. I had a few questions I wanted to ask them.
I think I wrote a bit too much. Let’s call it a day.
Yuri signing out …

Ok,
This is the first blog that I am writing and hopefully not the last. As most of you know, I am leaving in less than 2 weeks to a place I like to call Warstan.
First and foremost, the first reason I am writing a blog is to create some kind of connection between me and the reader, to share my journey with all of you. The second reason is to expand my writing skills, as you will notice in my blogs that my writing is not as perfect like most bloggers. It would be great if you could correct my mistakes when you write comments, if you have the time of course.
Second, for obvious reasons, a lot of the names of people and places that you will read about are made up, but the stories themselves are not. I will not guarantee that I will be writing a blog every week nor will I guarantee that I will be writing about everything that is happening over there. As the saying goes, some things are better left unsaid.

Who's Yuri?

Most of you don’t know me as Yuri. Yet that is my name here and I trust the reader to address me by that name. The name Yuri came about last autumn while I was on training in rural Alberta. After a month of being away from civilization, we started getting bored out of our minds. So I and a friend from my section started talking in a Russian accent. This friend’s name later became Igor who you will most likely read about in future postings. This Russian imitation spread in the section and before the training was over, everyone had a Russian name. Mine was Yuri.

For the next two weeks, I will spend time with my family and friends. I will concentrate on keeping this blog alive, for this will be the only connection between I and most of you. Before I leave, I will write another post, maybe add some pictures and find followers! : )