A very different Afghanistan from today's trainwreck

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The border between Pakistan and Afghanistan proved our biggest hassle to date. The Afghani customs men were most unenthusiastic about the whole task and in no hurry. Clocks were switched back another 30 minutes, giving us a bit of extra time, but we didn’t finally emerge from Customs until 4.30pm local time, meaning a 3 hour delay. Plenty of money changers were on hand, and lots of guns were also freely available for sale at the border, with some pretty mean looking characters wandering around selling them.

Once on the road again, Andy, Paul, Bob and myself took one look at the seating options in the local bus, and took to the roof once again, a decision this time we were to severely regret. Our final arrival in Kabul was not until 12.30am next morning, after some fairly slow driving due to mechanical troubles. The trip was a steady climb up several thousand feet, with the road bordered on both sides by high jagged rock faces, which took on eerie shadows in the moonlight. The cold really set in as night progressed and we rose higher into the mountains, and there was no place to hide and no stopping the bus, so by the time we reached Kabul the four of us were totally frozen and thoroughly miserable. On arrival, we booked in at the Metropol Hotel where we had a late-night ‘feast’ of tea and cookies, our only meal of the day.

I woke early next morning, not feeling at all flash – maybe just a reaction to getting frozen and the lack of food on the bus trip yesterday. After a short wander around town to change some money, I took to my cot for the balance of the morning. I was up again around midday, and we four wandered down to Checkon Street, madly trying on Afghan coats and slippers and everything imaginable made from yak wool. I finally succumbed to purchasing a set of warm bed socks, but the girls bought several kaftans and Bob a couple of shirts. We then made it to the backpacker hotspot Sigis for lunch, to a background of ‘Dark Side of the Moon’, but unfortunately I couldn’t hold down any food. We wandered around a bit more after lunch, but I was an early casualty and returned to the hotel.

Kabul is situated in a valley, surrounded by high mountains and rockiness, with many primitive homes built into the hillside. It is a fascinating mix of old and new, and the people look a real melting pot – a complete contrast with bearded tribes in robes, with rifles over their shoulders sharing the same footpath as slick looking businessmen in suits.

We had dinner that night at Marco Polos (after being unable to get a start at the famed Khyber Restaurant), which comprised a sizzling pepper steak with Afghani red wine, a bit expensive at 200Afs (almost 4 bucks), but well worthwhile after a couple of days without food. It was a nice clean joint, but they had available very few items from the menu, which was a bit frustrating, though maybe our arrival time of 10pm didn’t help.

There was nothing doing for the group next morning so we four hit Checkon Street again at midday, and everyone went mad on purchases – Julie a yak coat and top, Peta a couple more dresses and a bag, Bob a few oddments, and I picked up two shirts and cheesecloth long pants, sandals, toiletries and most remarkable of all, a biro for 2Afs. (Editor’s Note – Julie wrapped up her yak coat and carried it unopened on the bus all the way to London. When she opened it there, some 2 months later, it was full of weevils and had to be tossed out!). I managed to sell off my watch for 500Afs, which gave me a bit of spare pocket money. The chocolate ice creams, with a large serving only costing 10Afs, had plenty of starters.

That night’s entertainment of an Afghani meal with music and wine and dancing turned into a non-event for yours truly. I couldn’t stand the food and only managed to sink half a glass of wine before I felt crook again. The band was quite entertaining (4 artists, including a couple of string instruments not unlike sitars), but a further twisting of my ankle well and truly finished me for the night. I came home but spent half the night on the toot, as my diarrhea had then reached its worst stage yet. The others all thought it was a good night though, which augured well for similar planned wine nights in Turkey and Greece.

I was still not at all flash the following morning, but figured there was no point in staying in bed. First move of the day was to the museum on a local bus. The boys committed a faux pas by getting on at the front of the bus – this is reserved for women and children only! However, the locals on the bus were very understanding and quite friendly. The Kabul museum was quite interesting, with some great photos of ruins and rock carvings from various parts of the country. The afternoon provided a trip up to the very flash Hotel International, from the restaurant of which we were able to get a great panoramic view of the city. On the way back, I went with guide Azarkim to the market area where I managed at long last to sell my tranny for 1200Afs (USD20 – double the cost price). Late in the day, Bob and I took a trip up through the mud houses on the hill, and my new mustard-coloured cheesecloth shirt and green pants must have had the Pied Piper effect, as I was surrounded by local kids.

Kabul is just an incredible contrast of different races – everything from suave businessmen to bearded warriors with turbans to Russian-looking peasants. Similarly, the women range from the strict Moslem, with their chaderis (or burqas) to protect their anonymity, to quite mod looking young girls. We had some interesting conversation with a couple of the more progressive locals about the respective merits of the chaderi and the hijab (head covering only). Also of interest was the large number of military-looking police in what looked like hand-me-down Nazi uniforms.

Dinner for the whole bus crowd was again at Sigis, and this time I managed to keep down my roast beef and ice cream. Gary arrived back at the hotel this afternoon with the news that we would be on our way again on the original Sundowners bus in the morning.

Despite my poor condition, this was probably one of the more satisfying of the day’s drives to date. It was a 500 km trip, taking 9 hours, through mainly desert area, but that was a great part of its appeal. The American built road was in good condition, generally flat and smooth, and flanked on either side often by fascinating shaped mountains and rock formations. The Hindu Kush range was always in sight on the right-hand side – high and snowcapped early, gradually diminishing towards the end of our trip. The countryside close to the road was flat and mainly desolate, spotted with the occasional village of square mud houses, some with domes on top, as well as fortified caravanserai and groups of nomad tents stretched out together. At various stages, we came across the bearded, turbaned nomads in their fancy robes, either tending the ground or sorting their long-eared, shaggy, black and white sheep, or else their camel or donkey caravans. At one stop, we were greeted by a large group of colourful nomad children – Kodak shares must have taken a big hike up on that day!

Highlight was a short stop at a place called Ghazni, a quaint village of mud houses, camels wandering freely, and many shops, most of which seemed to be selling rifles. It’s a pity they didn’t sell toilets, as my insides were in very bad shape by that time – I think I had as many visits to the loo as I took photos! Fortunately, the weather had become a little more bearable by then, with it being sunny but without the intense heat.

We reached Kandahar late in the day and booked into the Mayfair Hotel, but the quality of the hotel certainly didn’t match its namesake on the Monopoly board. They threw in a sleazy hamburger meal before a quiet night of cards.

The next day was not nearly as inspiring a trip as the previous day. We passed through some real desert country, touching the northern tip of the famed Dasht-i-Dargo (the Desert of Death). We sighted precious few villages or even nomad groups. We had a sensation around 3pm when the bus engine violently overheated after a water leak – at first the fear was that the head gasket had blown on us. We had a two hour stop while the group played a makeshift game of cricket in the hot sun. We finally completed the 530 kms into Herat just after 7pm and booked into the Super Behzad Hotel. We had dinner and bought some snacks down the street, including 3 plates of yoghurt, a real specialty here. At this stage, my stomach appeared to be showing some small signs of improvement.

The following day was our final day in Afghanistan as we were due to cross the border into Iran around lunchtime. We got away around 7.30am for a quick look around Herat. The town contained a peoples’ park and a fountain, which actually looked a bit out of place with everything else. It also contained yet again its share of wandering camels. On the way out, we got a great view of the Blue Mosque, with its four impressive minarets, but with time tight and a need to reach the border, we didn’t get a chance to go inside..

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Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Afghanistan
I am really enjoying your adventure. Yes, things have changed a great deal since the 70's. You might enjoy the book, " The Hippie Trail" By Sharif Gemie and Brian Ireland. MJ

[Nomad Old Farts]

The Hippie Trail
Many thanks. I haven't heard of it, but I'll look it up. Did you ever get to read the book about the Wheelers, the Aussies who started Lonely Planet, as they were about our vintage. Also, I have a book called "Lonely Planet Unpacked", which is a selection of very short 'travel disaster stories'. You'd love both of them.

[John and Sylvia]

Afghanistan
I won't make any comment about Kabul except to say I did eat at the Khyber restaurant and for the next 5 days had the most incredible diarrhoea. It was the only time I suffered from it. While on the subject, all the way after Turkey there were only squat toilets but there was always a rumour about a sit-down toilet at a hotel in Kandahar. When John and I arrived there, we made sure we booked in to that hotel and, sure enough, there was a sit-down toilet - which even had a flush! I was stupid enough to look out the window in the "bathroom" and found that the sewage pipe stopped just outside the wall and the back of the hotel was a huge cesspit. Did you notice the large drains on each side of the streets in Herat? In 1969 there was no sewage system so everything went in to those drains. During the night the sluice gates in a nearby dam were opened and the drains were flushed (I don't know where it all went but there was a river outside the town which I suspect was the outlet.) In the morning the now "fresh" water in the drains was gathered and stored in large jars or tubs for washing/drinking/cooking during the day. Needless to say, I made sure everything I ate or drank was well boiled. Even the bottled water was suspect. I don't recall the name of the hotel we stayed in at Herat but I do remember hearing amazing music coming from one of the communal rooms on the floor above us. John and I went to investigate and were invited into this large room where about 20 people were staying for 2 days. They were giving a performance the next day in the town square and were rehearsing their repertoire. It was a great night with lots of joints and bongs going around. We even went to listen to their concert the next day and got invited to share their bus as they were also going to Kandahar. They were the Kandahar police band!

[Nomad Old Farts]

Herat/Kandahar
Again, great to hear of your experiences. I don't remember the 'sewage' system of Herat but maybe we were staying in a 5 star hotel! Your experience in Kandahar is one of those incidences you are just lucky enough to come across. You couldn't go into a travel agent in Oz and say 'book me into a Kandahar Police Band' concert. Over the years, I've had many invitations to visit the homes of local people and those too are like gold.