Three weeks ago I was still hovering next to my bukari, trying to stay somewhat warm, and all of a sudden, little flowers, messengers of a new season, are popping up in my garden. It's quite unbelieveable how quick seasons change here in Kabul. Yesterday I still wrapped myself in several layers of cloths, resembling and feeling very much like an onion, to keep myself warm, and today, I am sitting outside my house in short sleaves, dreaming of an icecoffee and swimmingpool.
Its the first time in four years that I experience a real change of seasons, and maybe thats the reason why I am so excited about it all. I haven't missed seasons for the first two years while staying in east and horn of Africa. But towards the end, I really started missing icy winter nights, forests dipped into an endless variety of autumn colors, and chilly, fresh spring mornings. There are many things I liked about staying in Somaliland and Kenya, but I think at the end of the day, I am simply not made for a life in tropical areas. Sun and warm weather is just so much more enjoyable after a harsh winter! In that sense, I think that I am and will always be a child of seasons, for which extreme changes between winter, spring, summer, autumn is enough to feel happy.
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