fasten your seat-tables and upright your seat-backs

we're flying into Kabul. There’s even a bus this time to meet us on the tarmac. And– the terminal’s got a makeover! I never knew fluorescent fixtures would make me so happy. I find myself smiling over the floors like in friend’s new home. Charming! And that must be stone tile. Marvelous! Yes, it was all finished two weeks ago, says my neighbor. He and I are standing in line for passport control (“Passport Entery”). We share stories about the old terminal – so dark – so dim! – and those weird forms filled in duplicate (the first one I had to fill out, the second one by the officer – though the forms were the same and the officer spoke little English, so the answers came out all wrong, in short a creepy and absurd waste of time)… while now we’re whisked through with no forms no papers just stamp stamp flip on the visa and it’s all done.

While we wait they bring in a busload of deportees from Dubai. Each holds a green sheet of paper and little else. The police pick them up as they find them. Some shuffle along with small bags from duty free. One boy in acid-washed jeans and a salmon-colored t-shirt seems ready to fight someone.

Out in the city, lot of new construction. Is the mood here different, or is it just Spring?