Oh… You mean I'm really in another country?

"LT, I need your assistance on this, can you come over?" Those few words began my adventure for a day that was well on its way to being otherwise uneventful. "We need to attend a meeting, would you mind driving us over to the Iraqi Government Building?" Drive? You mean leave the compound? Get outside these prison walls? Like actually get behind the wheel of an auto and do what (for me) comes naturally? SWEET! "Grab your Body armor and let's roll…" Thus begins the adventure of requisitioning a vehicle; locating said vehicle and driving my new up-armored SUV around the IZ. This thing drives like a tank. Driving over speeds bumps actually requires a bit of spinning-out and squealing of tires just getting this monster over the hump. Even then the backend suspension literally crashes back to its positive state. This is the epitome of a soccer mom's safety vehicle. I can already see cautious parents all over America ordering this "advanced" safety package to keep their kids EXTRA safe. After all it'll take bullets and a head on collision and keep on going. It's only a guess, but I bet this beast even gets 5 gallons to the mile. Good thing they have all this Oil around here.

As I pull out of the guarded lot, it suddenly strikes me that I don’t have an Iraqi driver's license. I'm then comforted by the fact that most Iraqi's don’t have an Iraqi driver's license. And even if they did whose gonna pull us over? Who has time to give out speeding tickets around here? Knock yourself out kid; this is the wild-wild west. It's better than the back roads of Montana. Unfortunately, I have to admit there is something perversely freeing and appealing about less than rigorous law enforcement. I digress.

Now, the drive is only half the adventure. For the first time since arriving I actually felt like I am in a foreign country. What sticks out in my mind is the condition of Iraqi Govt. Building. It is in need of repair and it isn't all that clean. It takes me a bit of time to realize there are no contractors; no KBR. This place is being repaired for Iraqis by Iraqi's. That and all its inhabitants, it reminds me of any administrative building in Mexico or Spain. They even smoke in doors. After climbing some narrow stairs I finally meet our Iraqi Govt counterpart; funny that - it only took 2 months. Guess they are working on the "Iraqi OK" time line. This is just a short introductory meeting. Turns out he's ex-Navy so we have a bit in common. Hopefully there will be several more of these to come.

After our meeting we head for home but decide to make a quick detour to pick up some freshly made Iraqi hearth baked flat bread. This is amazing stuff famous here in the IZ. People buy it by the bag full for a buck and bring it back to the office. The bag never lasts more than two minutes before it's all gobbled up. What happens next stuns me… We walk up to the window to order the bread from this particular vender but are intercepted by the proprietor who invites us to come inside to see how it's made. While this is a great opportunity, it's also somewhat unexpected. To call the establishment a building, well that’s just wrong. It's nothing more than a shanty with a few basic (historic) tools. But taste is more important the looks. Or host reaches down into this big wooden bin and grabs a couple of pieces bread just pulled from the flame and hands it to us."No charge my friend! US soldier – Hero! No charge" This is not at all the hostility I've seen on TV. These guys are running their business – successfully I might add – and they are genuinely happy to see us. (Here is my "Starbucks theory" at work.) They ask me to take pictures with my boss and want me to get some shots of them at work. I even get some video. These guys are proud of their business and their two pet pigeons. What?!? Pigeons in a kitchen?!? Well this place will never pass a US health inspection – And I think I'm OK with that. When the bird lands on some of the pieces of bread in the wooden trays that are waiting to go into the brick oven… Well I try to get a snapshot of it because it's just that shocking – it's comical. I spose this is "secret" flavoring and so much for the mystery of what makes this bread tastes so good. The kindness is so counter to my expectations. They just gloat over us, trying to carry on a conversation and continue to invite us to take more pictures and show us how everything works. They were so nice I started to feel a little tense – suspicious. My situational awareness alarm starts screaming at me. I size up the room, location of every person, weapons status, and clearest course of action - if / when. I nudge the boss, grab one last shot of video and a bag of bread - we pay the guys anyway – They give us more free bread "for the road" and we make our way back to the vehicle. I briskly drive away keeping my head on a swivel until I get the heavy beast back to the parking lot.

To be fair the risk factor was low. Their "suspicious" behavior is just typical Middle Eastern hospitality - something that we Americans have become so jaded to, that our internal BS alarm can't help but kick off. I later learn these shrewd businessmen get US troops all the time and when newbies (like us) come rolling in, they know they have potential regulars so they hook us with a tour and free bread. Incentive based marketing tactics – Advanced CRM: These guys had me at hello!