Let’s be clear Dubai is about as real (read authentic) as a $3 bill. Add to that a direct flight in from Kabul, and you’ve pretty much stepped off the edge of reality.

Six hours ago I was in a place where, I was absolutely embarrassed that I inadvertently offered my hand to a man to say hello. He’s someone I know, and think the world of, but all the same, he is a traditional man and I really flew right past the “line” on that one. Now I’m sitting in an air conditioned airport sipping a Starbucks Mocha Frappachino – connected to the internet (at more than twice my usual connection) and waiting for my flight.

Making the transition between worlds is a bit disorienting and it all comes down to this, my new Afghan shirt. The heavy fabric, once rich, now weighs heavily on my arms. I can feel its warmth on my legs where it stretches down to modestly cover me. What once was comforting now begins to feel foreign – I think I’m ready to feel myself again.