Dirt

While watching a barely watchable bootleg of the new 'Pirates of the Caribbean' yesterday, I realised that 'dirt' in American refers to soil/earth as well as the matter that besmirches us and things thus rendering them 'dirty.'
It's funny because I never thought of soil as dirty.
Until I lived here.
I bathe, often twice a day, and yet my fingernails are permanently despicable, clothes look like they've been dragged through many bushes backwards and feet, Yikes! I don't recognise them anymore. My hair has turned to hay, thanks to layers and layers of dust, which the water does little to remedy. Washing hands is also a double edged sword, since its not certain what's worse -- the toxic water or the dirt?!
No one would accuse New York City of being particularly clean and when I lived there I recall recoiling from fetid puddles in the subway and stepping over rubbish bags heaving with rats (for real). Yet an entire day of traipsing about Brooklyn and Manhattan, and I did even more traipsing than the average New Yorker since one of my jobs was dog walker, rendered me not nearly as filthy as 5 minutes in even the most tidy of Afghan streets.
Ugh!
Kabul has the added disadvantage of having civilized rubbish (pictured above) to add to the nation wide plethora of excrement and dust.
I found a pair of khaki Crocs that blend right in with the dirt and that can easily be hosed down several times a day.
What's more, I now elicit even more sympathy from even the poorest of villagers for my unladylike footwear and have been gifted with a very fetching pair of neon orange plastic heels amongst others.