I have never seen a border like the Torkham border before. I suppose it is because it is the tribal areas and not strictly Pakistan, but anyway there were hundreds of people wandering back and forth everywhere. Loads of children, dragging sacks this way and that trying to avoid the policemen's sticks, and of course a huge queue of trucks. To top it all off, we were all up to our ankles in liquid mud. Generally very chaotic. It would have been quite easy to have walked right through without doing any passport business on either side. In fact we had to search for the passport office on the Afghan side. And so we waved goodbye to our gunman and set off in to the unknown.
After changing some money with a burka-clad drone we were crammed in to a 4x4 and after waiting an eternity for another four passengers to fill the remaining seat we set off for Kabul. I was sat in the front on top of the gearbox with my head touching the roof and my face just inches from the windscreen. To make the ride that much more interesting, the driver drove like an angry teenager
with a death wish. The road to Kabul is actually still under construction, so the "way" is bumpy to say the least and often required a serious test of driving skill, something our driver was without.
We stopped in Jalalabad to let some people off and I thought that it might free up some space, but alas no. More people got on than had got off!
From Jalalabad we began the arduous climb up the mountain to Kabul. A long and windy road that seemed to go on forever, lined with heavily laden trucks struggling in first gear. This took the best part of the day even with the driver driving like a man possessed and overtaking every other vehicle he came across.
After what seemed like an eternity we arrived in Kabul at 8pm. It had only been eight hours since we left the border but it seemed like sixteen. I think that this was largely due to the fact that we had been listening to the same tape on repeat for the whole journey.
We get out and immediately I get in to a shouting match with the driver who is trying to charge me extra for
having sat in the front. Motherfucker! As if I haven't put up with enough of his shit already he is now trying to charge me extra for sitting in the least comfortable seat in the whole fucking car. So then we find ourselves in the dark in a deserted Kabul. The one piece of advice I remember was not to go out after dark. And here we are in the middle of nowhere wearing backpacks!
After a while a taxi drives by and we get in to it and head for what we think is the direction of a hotel. (There are no guidebooks of post war Afghanistan and so we are working off a shitty hand drawn map given to us by a fellow traveler in Pakistan).
The hotel was closed, as was the second. The third told us in no uncertain terms that they did not appreciate foreigners. Our last hope wanted $25 each for the night. We managed to talk him down to $15 each but soon realised that we weren't really in a good bargaining position. It was getting late and cold, and quite frankly I just wanted to lie down.
Our first day
in Kabul we awoke to find the streets busy with people. We found a cheaper hotel to stay in and then went window shopping in Chicken Street, Kabul's "tourist" street. Had I not been on a budget I would have bought up half the street.
Didn't really get the sense of being in a war zone until we went to the British embassy to register and everyone we met was pointing a loaded gun at us. The whole area around the embassy is bizarre as all of the buildings are surrounded by so much concrete and barbed wire that you would think that they were nuclear proof.
There are often small convoys of I.S.A.F. (International Peace keepers) forces driving around the place, but although they look menacing they seem friendly enough. We spoke to some Romanian soldiers, who thought that we were crazy for coming here voluntarily, and Adam had a run in with some Norwegian soldiers who twice caught him taking photos of their vehicles and the second time got out and caused a small scene. Thankfully they didn't confiscate his camera or even his film!
There were Afghan soldiers everywhere but they all look very funny
in their woolen uniforms. The older ones all look like younger versions of Fidel Castro.
Despite being the capital of one of the poorest countries in the world, Kabul can be one of the most expensive places I have ever been. Comparable with London or Moscow. The mini marts that serve the foreign journalists and NGO workers stock everything that you might find back home, but for the same price that you would find back home, so it is easy to spend a few days budget on a "taste of home". Not surprisingly all of the prices are quoted in dollars.
The south of the city still bears the scars of years of civil war. Many things are peppered with bullet holes and there are a number of bombed out buildings remaining, but life goes on and the markets and bazaars are heaving with life. This end of town is much more Afghan than the more international side in the north. On the way back home that evening we even passed the infamous Kabul stadium where the Taliban used to carry out their weekly executions.
On a lighter note, that evening we found that our hotel has a bar
that was home to a number of residents (journalists and contractors etc.). This was a welcome surprise as alcohol is forbidden in Afghanistan. We exchanged stories with a number of funny people and ate a pizza and played pool. They all thought that we were quite odd as many of them had never left the confines of their hotels without armed escort.
All in all it was quite a surreal night.
Because of the dangers of driving at night, most public transport tries to arrive at the destination before sunset. On a twelve hour drive though, this means that you have to leave at about 4am. And so we found ourselves somewhere in Kabul in the middle of the night in a 4x4 waiting for other passengers.
The road to Bamiyan is only a road for abut an hour, then it becomes just the way. A rough track that meanders through the mountains and over high passes in to the heart of the country. It was cool to be out of Kabul and see the countryside. It was also strange being seen by these Afghans, as most people in Kabul are used to seeing westerners, soldiers, aid workers
and journalists etc. but these guys were all very surprised to see us. Despite being very inquisitive, they were the most friendly and hospitable people we could have hoped to meet.
The road was littered with the remains of war. The most noticeable thing being the soviet tanks everywhere. Some of them still looked in pretty good condition, others were seriously blown up. We passed one tank that was right in the middle of the road taking up most of the space. It seemed to me bizarre that the road could be blocked for thirty years by something so large and nobody had thought to drag it to the side. (Or blow it up!)
We drove for eleven hours, endured two punctures and had to drive through a blizzard for a few hours on a perilous mountain pass, but eventually we arrived in Bamiyan and found a tea house that would let us use a spare room to sleep in.
To Read More and to see more photos go to www.chrisafir.com
Afghanistan's Flag
Map of Afghanistan