I'd like to thank my mother for sending me so much beef jerky and pistachios. The inconsiderate, Iranian-backed militia in Basra had the audacity to attack us with rockets for about 3 hours tonight, right in the middle of our dinner hours. This kept us holed up in bunkers and unable to get to the chow hall for the evening meal. Luckily, I had enough "pogey bait" in my bug-out bag, which I brought to the bunker, to keep my coworkers and I satisfied until the attack ended. Thanks mom.

At this point, it should be clear that I am not a racist. I am not so shallow as to judge a person by their race or ethnicity; lifestyle choices and eating habits, perhaps, but not something that is out of one’s control. I have always gone out of my way to help anyone in need here, regardless of their country-of-origin. That being said, I often find it difficult to look at the diverse people I work with and not picture them as their stereotype. Let me explain- there is a gentleman from Fiji here. He’s a very nice guy and works extremely hard. However, I cannot look at him without visualizing him clad in a leaf or loin cloth, clutching a spear, and dancing around a fire on a beach with a bone through his nose. I know, you can’t believe I actually wrote that. Well, as I’ve said before, this blog is about my daily observations, and I’m just keeping it true-to-form. Actually, I really have no idea if native Fijians even do what I envision. Perhaps they stick to apples and over-priced bottled water.

When I see the guys from Nepal, as in the gentleman on the left in the picture, I picture the same thing every time: his small frame hunched over, loaded down with 200lbs of the climbing gear of some wealthy, English aristocrat, headed for a Mt Everest base camp; a Sherpa.

Most of the guys from India dress and behave just like you and me- blue jeans, t-shirt, etc. Once in a while, though, you get someone such as the guy on the right in the photo. The traditional Hindi garb gives me images of him sitting, Indian style (obviously), around a woven basket, charming a Cobra with a flute (he has the flute, not the cobra). The other image conjured up by the Indian’s native outfit is that of one of the evil priests in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. I must say, also, that the Indians are probably the hardest and smartest workers I have ever seen, and it is my pleasure to work alongside them.

Now, in my defense, many of these thoughts were generated by hearing the guys laugh about their stereotypes. The Kenyans often joke about bringing me back a lion from their next visit home. Simon has gone into great detail, attempting to convince me that young, Kenyan men still hunt lions as a rite of passage into manhood. So, they do give my mental pictures a bit of ammunition.

Finally, I'd like to thank my brother Steve for being the greatest human being ever to exist. Of all time, EVER. I don't know how you do it, Steve, but you do it well, let me tell you. Keep it up! Someone's gotta be the man, right? We're all glad it's you!!!