Freezing

It wasn't really til mid of January that things got cold over here. But when the winter finally hit Afghanistan, it seemed to hit with full energy. I have already posted some info about snow fall and the sad impact it had on the lives of over 300 people.

My own experiences with winter are less dramatic, but still of rather uncomfortable nature. Coming from the Alps, I am naturally used to cold temperatures. But as much as I am used to minus degrees, I am also used to central heating and insulated houses. None of both seems to be a known concept here in Afghanistan. It seems that people found other ways to cope with temperatures than to build well insulated, warm houses (these alternative coping strategies remained up to date a mystery to me...).

My house, though beautiful from the outlook, has its own dynamic to deal - or not to deal - with cold temperates. To keep out cold temperatures from the gaps in between glass and frame of the windows, I put heavy curtains. Instead of central heating there is one so-called buchari in my room, constantly burning petrol and drying out the air inside my room. To ensure that I will not gently sleep away one night due to carbon monoxide poisoning, I have a carbon monoxide alarm right next to to buchari, joint in by a smog detector. The buchari does it's job fairly well by warming up my room somehow (I still sleep with two covers and a sleeping bag), but stepping outside my room is like jumping into siberia: white breath escapes my mouth on my run (its too cold to walk) from my room to the bathroom. By now I stopped using the shower in the bathroom all-toghether, since pipes are frozen and thus warm water a dream to become true. Instead, I stay over when ever possible at the house of a friend who at least has most of the time warm water and better insulated walls. The fact that my house is indeed a little siberia became once again obvious when cloths, put to dry over the balustrades in the second floor, turned into ice sheets.

Another effect of the cold weather, coupled with dry air of the buchari, are the cracks. Cracks in my hands and lips, which just don't want to go away no matter how much vaseline (the only cream I still believe in) add. When waking up in the morning I am unable to talk or smile, until I put a layer of vaseline on my lips.

Another effect is the onion style that I adapted over the last weeks. Instead of one or two layers, I am by now wrapping my body into at least five layers of cloths, that I only take off to sleep. Even in the office I hardly ever take off my jacket, though I have unfortunately to take off my gloves to be able to type into my computer.

Thats winter in Kabul. So far, nobody could really tell me how long this snow and winter tale will continue. February? March? Who knows. In the meantime I can only hope that work continues to keep me busy and thus away from worrying too much on the cold temperatures and the cracks in my skin and walls of my house... :)