The Munich (Airport Library) and Communal Napping Park or Harnessing Your Inner Bum

I've written in previous posts about the glory that is Munich airport, especially the Lufthansa terminals.  This post highlights the incredible library (ish)/communal napping park in Terminal H (I think)

Two rows of about 15 sleeping lounge chairs are bathed in soft green light.  Every chair has a normal outlet as well as a USB one.  There's also another section that has about 8 high backed cozy sleeping pods.  In this same section are 4 small private rooms/pods you can rent (30 euros for two hours I think) that has a clean bed and sink in it.

As seen in the first picture below, there's a selection of books (in German and English) that you can borrow while you are at the airport.  The next time I am there I will take more and better photos to show all the great areas.

Bottom line: if you have a choice of airports at which to layover--chose Munich.

I heart Lufthansa: Free coffee in Munich Airport Terminal G

At this point I haven't been to America in more than 1.5 years so maybe there are airlines that do this nowadays in the States but I really can't picture Delta or American airlines offering up free coffee to the plebeian masses--one would have to be safely ensconced in the privileged cocoon of a business class lounge to have the rarified opportunity to quaff free beverages at an airline's expense.

Munich airport is all those things you would expect of Germany--clean and efficient and full of pretzels.  Most notably, the airport there is an airport of happy places for me.  A favorite happy place: reading a newspaper with a cup of hot coffee.  Voila: Lufthansa's Terminal G at Munich Airport--International newspapers and a wide array of coffee and tea choices.  I was partial to the mochachino with an extra shot of expresso.

Aside from the incredible free coffee at the terminal--Lufthansa's in-flight service is top notch--I mean they serve cognac with dessert on the JNB-FRA flight.

They make it easy to say I love Lufthansa.

K

On Love, Loss and Forgetting in Junger's "War" or What Pablo Neruda has to do with the US in Afghanistan

Sebastian Junger's eye for detail is equal to his hunger for authenticity in his writing.  Nowhere is this more evident than in his 2010 'memoir' WAR.  Admittedly I am late to the game in reviewing Junger's story of the time he spent embedded in the violent and dangerous Korengal valley but it's not like the US will ever leaving Afghanistan right?

More importantly, Junger's book is not about Afghanistan or the Taliban--these are merely the backdrop for his penetrating examination of the men who go to war (in fact, the larger geo-political questions go (thankfully) unaddressed).

In dividing WAR into three books--fear, killing and love--Junger lays out his hypothesis that these three emotions (or actions) encompass war for the young men of the United States--or more precisely address the ultimate question of why young men fight and die in war.

 

The goal of this post, however, is not to give a traditional review of a book but instead show you a twitterfied book review.  Below you will see screen captures of the comments that I posted on twitter throughout my reading of the story.  Enjoy!

You can read my review of Marlantes' Matterhorn here. 

Perhaps there's no better praise of Junger's skill than that as I read through the War's final lines, I was immediately reminded two lines from Pablo Neruda's sorrowful ode to the pain and incomprehensibility of lost love.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her

Love is so short, forgetting is so long   

This tension (this war) between love, loss, self-deception and forgetting is ultimately what one walks away with reading Junger's masterful War.

Finally, it is worth noting that in considering Afghanistan and its bloody Korengal valley, another line from Neruda's poem rings equally true:

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.

Here's Neruda's poem in its entirety.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tries to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

FAO Pro Tip #1 or Ode to VapoRub

UPDATE:  I brought back this tip with me stateside for some of those sporty short flights on regionals in the western US.

The first in a series of post offering professional tips for Foreign Area Officers.  As a FAO you will likely find yourself doing a fair share of travel on small, regional, aged, dated aircraft of questionable safety and sanitary standards--especially if you cover more than one country such as the case for me.

When there is so much that you CAN'T control--its important to control the things you can.  Below is my ode to that most essential of travel aids: VAPORUB.

ODE TO VAPO RUB

As I board the crowded dated plane
i'm oppressed by the stale stank air
stagnant and seeping hot.
a cold bead of sweat
peels
        down my side

As the last passengers are
crammed and shoved inside
I am slapped with such
a stankfunkystink
that I nearly gag

heart racing panic descends
as I am assaulted
my every effort consumes me
to not wrench my disgusted face
in the direction...directions?!
of this ancient sour stench

Surely I hope
surely you are with me
                                          my confidant my savior

ahh yes, yes

you rest silently in my pocket
the smooth small curves of your cylinder body
always at the ready

Quickly I uncap you
my fingers dive in and swing
from your eucalyptus branches
                                                                              heavens
I plunge your menthol rub                             the
into my nostrils                                    to
and                                       soaring
 goes my countenance
as I am enveloped in your
analgesic caress
that blocks out and protects me
from the vile olfactory siege
laid up on me.

I close my eyes and smile
safely ensconced in your
mentholated eucalyptol
arms.

LINKS:
FAO Pro Tip #2 -- You're only a handshake away
FAO Pro Tip #3 -- There's a reason NASA missions pack duct tape
List of other poems/notable prose written while in Madagascar

Sometimes When It Rains by Gcina Mhlophe

A beautiful poem from the South African poet, storyteller and activist Gcina Mhlophe.

Sometimes When It Rains by Gcina Mhlophe

Sometimes when it rains

I smile to myself

And think of times when as a child

I’d sit by myself

And wonder why people need clothes

Sometimes when it rains

I think of times

When I’d run into the rain

Shouting ‘Nkce—nkce mlanjana

When will I grow

I’ll grow up tomorrow

Sometimes when it rains

I think of times

When I watched goats

Running so fast from the rain

While sheep seemed to enjoy it

Sometimes when it rains

I think of times

When we had to undress

Carry the small bundles of uniforms and books

On our heads

And cross the river after school

Sometimes when it rains

I remember times

When it would rain hard for hours

And fill our drum

So we didn’t have to fetch water

From the river for a day or two

Sometimes when it rains

Rains for many hours without break

I think of people

Who have nowhere to go

No home of their own

And food to eat

Only rain water to drink

Sometimes when it rains

Rains for days without break

I think of mothers

Who give birth in squatter camps

Under plastic shelters

At the mercy of cold angry winds

Sometimes when it rains

I think of ‘illegal’ job seekers

In big cities

Dodging police vans in the rain

Hoping for darkness to come

So they can find some wet corner to hide in

Sometimes when it rains

Rains so hard hail joins in

I think of life prisoners

In all the jails of the world

And wonder if they still love

To see the rainbow at the end of the rain

Sometimes when it rains

With hail stones biting the grass

I can’t help thinking they look like teeth

Many teeth of smiling friends

Then I wish that everyone else

Had something to smile about

A Starter Reading List on Civil-Military Relations

While at NPS I took an excellent Civil-Military Relations Course from Dr. Tom Bruneau--many of these books come from his course.  The part that I enjoyed most about his course was that he distanced himself from the love affair with Huntington.