Sitting on a bus bound for Kandahar did not put me in the best of moods. I wasn't looking forward to sleeping on an overcrowded floor in Kandahar and I wasn't done with Herat yet. Had I been healthy and strong there I would have seen and done more , but I wasn't. Time was running out on my visa and I had no real guide book to help me locate the immigration office. Jacques and I had found an old Lonely Planet Central Asia guide book at a guest house in Pakistan and copied some pages, but everything in it was old, out dated and inaccurate, so I had no idea whether or not I could extend my visa in Herat. I accepted the situation though and put my "shield up." That's what I call it when I kind of flip a switch in my head and become numb and separated from everything going on around me, even on an overcrowded bus or in a tightly packed train or bus station. My way of dealing with an uncomfortable situation.
After a few hours I saw the first American soldiers yet. A small convoy of Humvees patrolling the middle of a hill, with one parked at the top and another parked at the bottom. Up until now, I had only seen Italians and met a few Kiwi soldiers. I guess it makes sense since I spent all of my time in the middle of the country and it was relatively safe there. I took this to mean that we were getting into the war zone. I found the roads to be half way decent too, not good, but they were roads at least. Luckily as you do on a long bus ride, I became hypnotized by the passing scenery. I was tempted to listen to some music, but I would have stuck out too much. I didn't know who was on the bus with me, but I did know I was leaving the "safe zone" within Afghanistan. No more Taliban hating Hazaras around as a built in safety net. I was heading into an area that shows strong support for the Taliban and as great as all the Afghans had treated me, now I needed to be careful about looking like a tourist.
We got into Kandahar around sunset. From the window seat on the bus, I had been soaking up as much of Kandahar as I could and for a minute I wished I could stay and check it out. I wasn't able to notice any land marks though. With dusty streets and beat up buildings it just seemed to be a sloppy city and not one that sticks out in any particular way, in this region of the world anyway. When we got off the bus, they started handing everyone their luggage, since we would be sleeping there. But, I didn't want my backpack at all. It's an alien thing there and it had a few patches of flags sewn onto it... Lebanon, Nepal and Dengue. Pretty much telling everyone that I'm not from there! I carried it inside as quickly as possible and threw it under a window, since it would be a hot night.
No one seemed to notice anything though, in the general madness, everyone was taking care of themselves. Between pushing to find their luggage, securing a place to put it where they would also sleep that night and swarming to wash up with hoses, in the hot parking lot, I seemed to blend right in. I laid down with my head resting on my backpack exhausted from sickness, until the sun went down, then I discreetly went out and washed up too. When I came back in dinner was being served. What an operation! At least 100 people (more than one bus had stopped for the night) were packed into that small Chai Khana and everyone was being served at the same time. I sat down just in time to get my food which I tried hard to eat, but I had no appetite at all. I was still very sick and had forced myself to swallow a few mouthfuls.
After we finished our small pots of green tea and rolled up the eating mats I was ready for bed. It seemed that I was the only one tired though and I struggled to clear enough floor space to lay my turban (which was my bed) out. By the time I finally had laid it out and sat down on it, weak and ready for sleep, two bearded men sat directly across from me. I wasn't very comfortable anyway, there were a lot of people around me talking and very close by, but the two men sitting across from me were unsettling. It was obvious that they were staring at me and all of their attention was focused on me. While that's not uncommon, these two people didn't look friendly or happy at all. I noticed big daggers, seemingly deliberately visible, under each of their shalwar kameez. It wasn't instant, but it didn't take me long to suspect that they may both be Taliban.
I had met a few Taliban in Pakistan, but luckily they were getting off of a bus and I was getting onto it. They were angrily questioning me, but they knew I really had to get on the bus that was leaving and didn't bother me much. Beside that short encounter, I knew a few things about the Taliban. First, the word Talib means student and Taliban means students. When they took control of Afghanistan (with the exception of the northern part of the country, thanks to the Northern Alliance) one of their first laws was that men had to grow a beard. They wanted every man to have at least a fist full of beard hair, measured from their chin out. Secondly, they were easily identifiable by their long black turbans (together with their beards), sometimes kind of shiny. I hear they are changing their turbans now to avoid easy detection, but the two sitting in the room with me fit that exact description and I was in Kandahar. That realization got my adrenalin going and my heart thumping, suddenly I wasn't very tired!
Their puzzled, slightly unfriendly expressions quickly turned to blatant dislike! I made eye contact and nodded my head upwards questioningly and they quickly fired a few questions at me. Over the past 19 months of continuous travel I had been in many positions that in a round about way, had prepared me for this, but never with angry Taliban. It's a fairly common routine and basically consists of non-English speaking people asking loads of questions, which over time I had come to understand simply from the amount of times I'd been asked the same questions. They were usually curious, friendly and harmless people, that was the huge difference here. Still I was good at playing dumb when I wanted to. So, as they rattled off question after question, I stayed outwardly calm and kept saying I don't understand. They seemed to be loosing patience and one got up, presumably, to look for someone who knew some English. Strangely, by the time the Talib came back with someone else, I was no longer nervous. The man they had found walked up to me and I stood to greet him with a hand over my heart and an "Asalam a lakem".
Interpreter number 1 stood still in front of me for a minute, then searching for words, asked "how", "hello" and "where" and that was all he could spit out. I wasn't about to connect any dots for them! As long as I felt safe and they didn't find a better interpreter than that, I would be completely clueless. With a serious, friendly expression I told them I don't understand. Frustrated, the same Talib walked the man away only to return a couple of minutes later with someone else. I repeated the same greeting with interpreter number two, but this time he spoke much better English and it would have been understandable to anyone who spoke English. He started off by asking what religion I was. In the west it's easy to say none, or that you're an atheist, but with the exception of Judaism, that's the worst answer you could give. I knew that already and didn't hesitate to tell them I'm Christian. Evening prayers came and went and I didn't participate, so they knew I wasn't Muslim.
With that admission, I confirmed what the the Taliban had suspected all along. I was a Christian, a foreigner, I was dressed in their clothes, had dark skin and a beard twice as long as theirs, but was not a Muslim. I was a believer in the book, but not in Allah, or the Prophet Muhammad and now they wanted to know where I was from and what I was doing here. They looked at each other with a mixture of excitement and disgust. It was obvious once they realized I couldn't understand their language, and they probably spoke more than one, that I wasn't from Afghanistan, but now they would find out what country I was from and why I was there. If they found out I was American, or even from a NATO country, it would be bad, I wasn't about to let that happen. The same way traveling for a year and a half straight had prepared me for their opening questions, it had also prepared me for my next line of questioning. After getting grilled in Nepal almost a year before this (on my Lang Tang trek) about the country I claimed to be from, I felt prepared and ready for the onslaught of questions that were sure to come.
As I tried to control my breathing and look outwardly calm, I was trembling. In a way I think the fact that I was so sick, helped me. I was too tired and sick to be as afraid as I should have, or would have been, when fully healthy. I smiled and complimented my interrogator on his English, no matter what was to happen, he was not my enemy. He thanked me and continued translating their questions - " What country are you from?" "Why are you in Kandahar?" "Where did your bus come from?". I already knew what I was going to say, that was an easy decision, but knowing how they would react was nerve wracking. I had no time to second guess myself, without hesitation I said "I'm from Dengue. I took this bus from Herat and it is continuing to Kabul tomorrow. I am only in Kandahar for one night." They seemed not to hear anything after Dengue. "What is Dengue they said through their interpreter?" It's my country, my home, I said. "What is Dengue? Where is it?" In between Swaziland and Lesotho, in South Africa, I answered and slowly reached around to uncover my backpack for proof. "There" I pointed. In between the other two patches was a flag of Dengue, the patch I designed and had made and sewn onto my backpack in Kathmandu, about a year before.
"Africa!" They all said and curiously they all seemed a little relieved. Although it answered their initial question, this confused them as well, they had never heard of Dengue, but could see right in front of them that the country existed, I had a flag. A small discussion began and the interpreter seemed to have no answers for them. Cleverly they asked me for my passport and I took a page from my encounter in Nepal. "It's in the Pakistani embassy in Kabul. I'm getting a visa for Pakistan." They all seemed to nod their heads in approval, then warmly and with both hands gripped their interpreters outstretched arm, the way they shake hands and sent him back to his family on the other side of the Chai Khana. The interpreter then wished me a safe journey and disappeared into the warm, heaving mass of people that overflowed from the undersized building.
I put my hand over my heart and smiled at the two Taliban. As the Adrenaline left my body, I laid back and was thankful that I was suddenly exhausted. I hoped for sleep, but was kept awake by the need to keep an eye on those two men who slept at my feet. That night I would get no sleep until they disappeared in early hours of the morning. Instead I would think about how lucky I was to get out of that situation. How blessed I was to still be on that floor, in that Chai Khana, sick and dehydrated and on my own, but safe... how happy I was that Dengue saved my life...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Herat at last!
Waking up in Herat felt a lot like heaven, laid back and calm. After the torturous drive we had just endured and the lack of choice when it came to food, since leaving Kabul, we could now stretch, walk and eat at will. Lined with trees, almost every city block offered a different restaurant and there were street stalls everywhere for quick, tasty treats. I was way too excited to notice how sick I had become. Since drinking bad water way back in Pakistan, I was steadily becoming sicker and sicker. I became more aware of it while being stuck in a vehicle for three straight days, but after a while, it just seems normal in a way and you forget that it can be potentially dangerous.
The only down side to that first day was not having Stefan around. When we arrived the day before, it was the last day to enter Iran, according to Stefan's visa. Jacques didn't seem to have the same restrictions or rules on his visa, so Stefan left alone. We missed having him around, but we were quickly distracted and ended up being invited into more than one restaurant to sip free tea, or Super Cola. The people were eager to meet foreigners and try out their English phrases. I, being a coffee junkie, popped into the first shop/bakery I saw and asked doubtfully about coffee. Ali, the well educated and friendly shop keeper, told me as if apologizing, that there is no coffee in Herat. He then turned around to one of the shelves behind him and pulled down a bottle of Thai instant coffee. He told Jacques and I that if we wanted to have a seat, he would make us a cup of instant coffee, for free! I'm a coffee snob, but i have to admit, I was excited. A few minutes later we were sitting in his bakery drinking coffee and eating sweets! It seemed as if things couldn't get better!
After more exploration and a visit to the beautiful Mosque, I met up with Shu, who was travelling with his Chinese passport. He was on his way to the Iranian embassy to ask about a visa, so I thought I would give it one more try. At the gate to the embassy was a guard post, a cement box with an Iranian officials head sticking out. There was a line of people on the side walk all the way down to the end of the block. We decided to just ask the guy with his head poking out if they issued visa's there. He asked for our passports and when he saw mine in my hand, I was instantly denied. It was worth one more try and I would rather that happen then them take my money and make me wait. Shu got his visa in 10 minutes! The American passport must be the worst passport to travel with...
The next morning I struggled to get off of the floor of my ChaiKhana, but I forced myself, I had to say goodbye to Jacques and Shu. They were heading into what felt like the promised land, Iran and I was gonna miss them. I met Jacques in India, 10 months before, and bumped into him two more times before we agreed to meet up (a few months from then) and travel together in Pakistan. He was a true friend and I didn't want to say goodbye, but I knew from traveling enough that it was going to happen sometime and I had gotten used to saying my goodbyes. I also really wished I could enter Iran with them, I've heard only good things about traveling in Iran and I can't help but wonder how long I'll have to wait until I CAN enter. As soon as they left our little, empty room (just floor space with a lockable door), as if instant loneliness robbed me of my strength, I collapsed. I had spent the whole night waking up and at first running to the toilet, but after two or three trips, I struggled to even get up. Lightheaded and dizzy I almost passed out on the rest of the walks to the bathroom. Now I lay face down, on the floor in a pool of sweat.
In between my psychedelic dreams I soon realized I was dehydrated and had a high fever! I felt the need to run to the toilet, but I couldn't pick myself up off of the floor. I awoke on the toilet only to discover that I was peeing blood. I figured out quickly though, that it wasn't blood, but severe lack of water that turned my urine a dark orange color! Eventually I got a little strength back by drinking a packet of re hydration powder mixed with the rest of my water. So there I was, on the Afghan Iran border, sick and now completely alone. I've traveled alone a lot and I'm completely comfortable with myself, but it's a different thing being alone, that sick, in a country at war.
It took nine days to get to Herat from just Band-e Amir and I had only 5 days left on my visa. I had been trying to travel by land (no flying) from Malaysia to France, but there was definitely no way through Iran (legally) and my idea of going through Turkmenistan, across the Caspian Sea and into Azerbaijan was unrealistic at this point, logistically and physically. So, I had very few options, as far as where to go after Afghanistan and what to do from Herat. The only real road to Kabul is in the shape of a V, from Herat in the west, to Kandahar in the south, then up to Kabul in the east. The one thing I knew about Afghanistan before I entered was to stay away from Kandahar! All the battles were being fought in the south and in the south east and I wanted no part of that kind of drama!
After looking around and asking people (as best I could) I found a 48 hour, direct bus to Kabul. No stopping along the way and waiting for the next vehicle and no getting dumped out in Kandahar and having to find another bus to Kabul. It sounded okay, minimal risk. As long as I didn't open my mouth, no one should know I'm a foreigner. From my beard to my clothes and my sandals, I could pass for an Afghan. Only two things bothered me. First, my long hair. A lot of Taliban have long hair depending on there region, but nowhere near as long as mine. Secondly and worst of all, I would have to stop in Kandahar, eat dinner and then sleep there until the morning, when we would all get back on the bus to Kabul. The people are so extreme there and the Taliban have such influence there still, that Pakistan claims Osama Bin Laden and Mullah Mohammed Omar (aka Commander of the Faithful) are hiding there. Weather they're there, or anyone even believes Pakistan's claims, is irrelevant, it's a bad enough place for Pakistan to make those claims and it's not a place you want to spend the night.
But, in my state of delirium, I bought the tickets. For 600 Afghans ($12) I would be in Kabul in 48 hours, just enough time to look around for a flight to Istanbul, Turkey. That way I would only skip one country (Iran) by air. I was nervous, but too sick to really care about the risk. So, I bought some water, zipped my lips and got on a bus bound for Kabul, via Kandahar. I would get to Kabul safely I thought, Insh'Allah!
The only down side to that first day was not having Stefan around. When we arrived the day before, it was the last day to enter Iran, according to Stefan's visa. Jacques didn't seem to have the same restrictions or rules on his visa, so Stefan left alone. We missed having him around, but we were quickly distracted and ended up being invited into more than one restaurant to sip free tea, or Super Cola. The people were eager to meet foreigners and try out their English phrases. I, being a coffee junkie, popped into the first shop/bakery I saw and asked doubtfully about coffee. Ali, the well educated and friendly shop keeper, told me as if apologizing, that there is no coffee in Herat. He then turned around to one of the shelves behind him and pulled down a bottle of Thai instant coffee. He told Jacques and I that if we wanted to have a seat, he would make us a cup of instant coffee, for free! I'm a coffee snob, but i have to admit, I was excited. A few minutes later we were sitting in his bakery drinking coffee and eating sweets! It seemed as if things couldn't get better!
After more exploration and a visit to the beautiful Mosque, I met up with Shu, who was travelling with his Chinese passport. He was on his way to the Iranian embassy to ask about a visa, so I thought I would give it one more try. At the gate to the embassy was a guard post, a cement box with an Iranian officials head sticking out. There was a line of people on the side walk all the way down to the end of the block. We decided to just ask the guy with his head poking out if they issued visa's there. He asked for our passports and when he saw mine in my hand, I was instantly denied. It was worth one more try and I would rather that happen then them take my money and make me wait. Shu got his visa in 10 minutes! The American passport must be the worst passport to travel with...
The next morning I struggled to get off of the floor of my ChaiKhana, but I forced myself, I had to say goodbye to Jacques and Shu. They were heading into what felt like the promised land, Iran and I was gonna miss them. I met Jacques in India, 10 months before, and bumped into him two more times before we agreed to meet up (a few months from then) and travel together in Pakistan. He was a true friend and I didn't want to say goodbye, but I knew from traveling enough that it was going to happen sometime and I had gotten used to saying my goodbyes. I also really wished I could enter Iran with them, I've heard only good things about traveling in Iran and I can't help but wonder how long I'll have to wait until I CAN enter. As soon as they left our little, empty room (just floor space with a lockable door), as if instant loneliness robbed me of my strength, I collapsed. I had spent the whole night waking up and at first running to the toilet, but after two or three trips, I struggled to even get up. Lightheaded and dizzy I almost passed out on the rest of the walks to the bathroom. Now I lay face down, on the floor in a pool of sweat.
In between my psychedelic dreams I soon realized I was dehydrated and had a high fever! I felt the need to run to the toilet, but I couldn't pick myself up off of the floor. I awoke on the toilet only to discover that I was peeing blood. I figured out quickly though, that it wasn't blood, but severe lack of water that turned my urine a dark orange color! Eventually I got a little strength back by drinking a packet of re hydration powder mixed with the rest of my water. So there I was, on the Afghan Iran border, sick and now completely alone. I've traveled alone a lot and I'm completely comfortable with myself, but it's a different thing being alone, that sick, in a country at war.
It took nine days to get to Herat from just Band-e Amir and I had only 5 days left on my visa. I had been trying to travel by land (no flying) from Malaysia to France, but there was definitely no way through Iran (legally) and my idea of going through Turkmenistan, across the Caspian Sea and into Azerbaijan was unrealistic at this point, logistically and physically. So, I had very few options, as far as where to go after Afghanistan and what to do from Herat. The only real road to Kabul is in the shape of a V, from Herat in the west, to Kandahar in the south, then up to Kabul in the east. The one thing I knew about Afghanistan before I entered was to stay away from Kandahar! All the battles were being fought in the south and in the south east and I wanted no part of that kind of drama!
After looking around and asking people (as best I could) I found a 48 hour, direct bus to Kabul. No stopping along the way and waiting for the next vehicle and no getting dumped out in Kandahar and having to find another bus to Kabul. It sounded okay, minimal risk. As long as I didn't open my mouth, no one should know I'm a foreigner. From my beard to my clothes and my sandals, I could pass for an Afghan. Only two things bothered me. First, my long hair. A lot of Taliban have long hair depending on there region, but nowhere near as long as mine. Secondly and worst of all, I would have to stop in Kandahar, eat dinner and then sleep there until the morning, when we would all get back on the bus to Kabul. The people are so extreme there and the Taliban have such influence there still, that Pakistan claims Osama Bin Laden and Mullah Mohammed Omar (aka Commander of the Faithful) are hiding there. Weather they're there, or anyone even believes Pakistan's claims, is irrelevant, it's a bad enough place for Pakistan to make those claims and it's not a place you want to spend the night.
But, in my state of delirium, I bought the tickets. For 600 Afghans ($12) I would be in Kabul in 48 hours, just enough time to look around for a flight to Istanbul, Turkey. That way I would only skip one country (Iran) by air. I was nervous, but too sick to really care about the risk. So, I bought some water, zipped my lips and got on a bus bound for Kabul, via Kandahar. I would get to Kabul safely I thought, Insh'Allah!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
I've been baptized in dirt!
"When Allah had made the rest of the world, He saw that there was a lot of rubbish left over, bits and pieces and things that did not fit anywhere else. He collected them all together and threw them down on to the earth. That was AFGHANISTAN!"
- A Wise old Afghan Mujahed
After leaving Band-e amir the comfort level dropped dramatically! No more decent roads, or comfortable rides. From then on we crammed into already tightly packed vehicles (of all kinds) and had to share space with chickens, luggage and the rest of the people who had been waiting as long for their ride, as we had for ours. Saying that travel was slow in that part of the country doesn't paint a clear enough picture. The roads are coated with about a foot of powdery dust. Huge pot holes and stones in the road are the norm. Of course there's no air conditioning, so everyone opens the windows, allowing a tidal wave of dirt and dust to constantly drench us! We all had our turbans undone and wrapped around our faces, covering our nose and mouth, but that just made it difficult to breath. Before too long, it looked as if we all had dirty (hehe) blond hair. Dirt and dust covered everything, our faces, mouths, the inside of our noses, our arms, backpacks and the whole interior of the jeeps, or whatever we were driving in at the time!
All of that paled in comparison to the pain and discomfort we felt from sitting on bad, or no seats, having our knee's dig into the seat in front of us (sharp metal bars many times) and going air born with every bump, hole or stone in the road! Sometimes we couldn't move our legs for six to eight hours at a time and we could never stretch them. We had all been traveling in Asia for a while at that point (well over a year) and had been on countless chicken buses, with little to no leg room, but with the heat, the dirt and the long stretches of driving with nothing to look forward to (no cold drinks at the next stop and no showers at night) and the pain of being stuck in some advanced Yoga position, with metal digging into your knees and people puking out the windows, nothing had prepared us for this test of endurance (since, that's kind of what it turned into).
So, there's the background info, now I can fill you all in on where we went after Band-e Amir, and now you know all about our happy times driving there.
We finally talked a driver into taking the four of us to the next village, Yakawlang. The mini-van was already full, but we knew if we didn't catch this ride now, we'd have to wait a week until the next Friday, when all the Afghan tourists come to the lake, to get our next chance. So, we all did our Yoga in order to fit inside of the vehicle and were baptized for the first time (Oh no.... but not the last!) in our lives... with dirt! Still though, we were excited to move on to a new and different village and we were still in Afghanistan, so we knew that anything could happen at any moment. Upon our arrival at Yakawlang, I (since I was getting sicker) sat with the backpacks, while all of my friends split up to see what, if anything was in this village, but primarily to find a ChaiKhana. Those same routines would be repeated over the next few days as we kept arriving in new villages, with someone different standing watch over our foreign looking backpacks.
Meanwhile, while my friends were gone, word had quickly spread throughout the village that some weird looking whitey's had arrived. Within minutes, it seemed every male in the village, young and old had come out to see the "whiteys". They formed a huge circle around me and since they don't understand the "comfortable space" between two strangers, that we all take for granted in this part of the world, they got "all up in my Grill!" They were innocently curious though, but it didn't take them long to come to the conclusion (since I had a Taliban worthy beard at that point) that I looked like a homeless-hippie-terrorist! Anyway, my friends had to push people out of the way like they were in a mosh pit, in order to tell me that the head man (police/political head) wanted to talk to all of us before we stayed or moved on.
So, we met the boss man and he tried his hardest to look more important and powerful than we all suspected he really was, but he was nice and respectful to us. Sharing a pot of tea with us he just wanted to know who we were and what we were doing there. When I told him I was American he just couldn't understand why I didn't hire a car in Kabul, since I was rich! In his defense, from Yakawlang westward to Herat, buses are non-existent and flying coaches (mini-vans) are few and very far between. There aren't many backpackers on a budget here and no one just shows up in some village and waits for the next flying coach to come along. Almost every tourist rents a private car, or sticks to the main roads between Kabul and Mazar-E Sharif, or the okay road from Kabul to Bamiyan and a bit further maybe to Band-e Amir. So waiting hours, sometimes days for a ride turned out to be part of the Afghan backpacking experience. Both of these processes too (meeting the head dude and waiting for a ride) would end up repeating themselves again and again, every time we arrived at a new village. And so it was that in every mud hut, village or town from Band-e Amir westward to Herat, (well, actually Yakawlang, Panjab, La'lva Sar Jangal, Gardani Garmab Pass and Chaghcharan) an Australian, Chinese/Canadian, German and American traveling together, all beat up, sick, skinny, dirty and smelly, met the power drunk man in charge of each his own territory and impressed upon them the superior cleanliness of the developed world.
By the time we got to Lal (La'lva Sar Jangal), Sue the Chinese/Canadian, was ready to give up. Not only did he get food poisoning (or something just like it), but he was also being eaten alive from bed bugs and flea's, so adding the baptism of dirt, the bland food (the same everywhere... never want cotton seed oil again!!) and the terrible roads, didn't help much! The rest of us were sore, and running very low on Afghans. To boost our moral level we finally found a well that wasn't surrounded with woman (not that WE cared) and we each washed up there. Not a shower, but damn it was nice. The woman were beautiful in this part of the country too. The only time we would get a glimpse was while they were washing dishes or clothes at the wells. They didn't wear Burkha's in that part of the country and usually didn't even cover their faces. Their eye's were beautiful and their hair style only added to their beauty . They braided their hair, wrapped it around their head and clipped it across their forehead and their clothing had, what I can only describe as a Tibetan style to it.
Gardani Garmab Pass (they just say Garmab) was our next stop, it was only three hours (125 Kilometers) away and 100 Afghans each. It wasn't very far, but it was so hard to find any ride westward that we got all excited and we always clung to the hope that we would catch a direct ride to Herat at the next village. A bigger than normal crowd formed instantly in Garmab and they were right up in our faces again, they were so close to us that we couldn't even bend over to fix our sandals. Within minutes a young cop broke through the crowd saying that he just received a phone call from La'l (the head dude that we checked in with there). The kid cop (no older than 15) told us "you are very dangerous, you must leave now!", I think he meant that the town was dangerous? Anyway, without hesitating, we all told him "Yes! We're very dangerous, kick us out now! Get us a ride to Herat!!!" We told him to ask a nearby truck driver (who was leaving anyway) to take us and we would sit on the roof, but the driver wanted too much money and riding on the roof in Afghanistan wouldn't be fun! We were kidding around for a while after that about us being such bad asses that we got kicked out of a town in Afghanistan!!
The next day would be our lucky day, we found a driver willing to take us the rest of the way to Herat! Praise be to Allah! We were all relieved about the ride, no more waiting for hours or days, plus after we paid I had only 50 Afghans to my name (one dollar) and just 9 days left on my visa, great timing! Our moods quickly changed when it came time to find a seat and saw that there were already 12 people, plus their luggage inside the tiny vehicle! This was gonna be Bad! We had a broken seat, no cushion under us and metal bars (from the seats in front of us) digging into our knees, and we weren't even moving yet! We ended up driving 7 hours the first day, 15 the second and 5 the third! I will speak no more of my dark feelings in that vehicle! The one bright spot from that whole drive came when we passed a jeep that had a flat tire and no jack. Our driver, knowing that it could be a long time before another car comes along, did exactly what he should have, he stopped to help change the tire. We all ran out of the Van and stretched and kissed the dirt, we were so thankful to change positions! One by one we looked around and noticed a field with a few farmers close by. Then, almost all at once we noticed that it wasn't just some regular field, it was an Poppy field! We all ran towards it, looking for red rocks (land mines), but didn't see any. We had a close look at the Poppy plants and the farmer had a huge smile on his face (way too happy to be working in the sun all day...). We took pictures with the Poppies and the farmers, closely examined the plants and we could see where the farmers cut the poppy to let a soft tar like fluid run out. That (I think) is pure Opium and after they process it, it becomes the devil...Heroin! I wish we had more time there, but as soon as we arrived at the field, our driver was yelling to us to come back. We made him wait a couple of minutes, acting like we didn't hear him, but making sure he didn't try to drive away with out us, not that we couldn't run faster than he was driving though.
In a nut shell, that was how we got from Band-E Amir to Herat. The landscape got greener and greener the closer we came to Herat and the people that only a couple of hundred kilometers east looked Tajik or Uzbek (almost Mongolian looking), now looked more and more like what I expected Afghani's to look like. That was the end of three of the hardest days traveling I think I've ever had (starting back in Garmab), being as sick as I was (running behind a building after every stop, looking for a suitable place to make a toilet) and not being able to eat didn't help much either, the lack of water and dyheria resulted in me becoming dehydrated as well! Lots of fun! Still though, when we finally rolled up onto smooth pavement for the first time in over two weeks, we would have welcomed any city, no matter how dirty, with open arms. But, it didn't take us long to realize that Herat was anything but dirty. It was almost clean and it managed to maintain it's charm and an identity in a country that was almost totally destroyed by constant (30 years) war, that was a sweet surprise.
Then I slept...
- A Wise old Afghan Mujahed
After leaving Band-e amir the comfort level dropped dramatically! No more decent roads, or comfortable rides. From then on we crammed into already tightly packed vehicles (of all kinds) and had to share space with chickens, luggage and the rest of the people who had been waiting as long for their ride, as we had for ours. Saying that travel was slow in that part of the country doesn't paint a clear enough picture. The roads are coated with about a foot of powdery dust. Huge pot holes and stones in the road are the norm. Of course there's no air conditioning, so everyone opens the windows, allowing a tidal wave of dirt and dust to constantly drench us! We all had our turbans undone and wrapped around our faces, covering our nose and mouth, but that just made it difficult to breath. Before too long, it looked as if we all had dirty (hehe) blond hair. Dirt and dust covered everything, our faces, mouths, the inside of our noses, our arms, backpacks and the whole interior of the jeeps, or whatever we were driving in at the time!
All of that paled in comparison to the pain and discomfort we felt from sitting on bad, or no seats, having our knee's dig into the seat in front of us (sharp metal bars many times) and going air born with every bump, hole or stone in the road! Sometimes we couldn't move our legs for six to eight hours at a time and we could never stretch them. We had all been traveling in Asia for a while at that point (well over a year) and had been on countless chicken buses, with little to no leg room, but with the heat, the dirt and the long stretches of driving with nothing to look forward to (no cold drinks at the next stop and no showers at night) and the pain of being stuck in some advanced Yoga position, with metal digging into your knees and people puking out the windows, nothing had prepared us for this test of endurance (since, that's kind of what it turned into).
So, there's the background info, now I can fill you all in on where we went after Band-e Amir, and now you know all about our happy times driving there.
We finally talked a driver into taking the four of us to the next village, Yakawlang. The mini-van was already full, but we knew if we didn't catch this ride now, we'd have to wait a week until the next Friday, when all the Afghan tourists come to the lake, to get our next chance. So, we all did our Yoga in order to fit inside of the vehicle and were baptized for the first time (Oh no.... but not the last!) in our lives... with dirt! Still though, we were excited to move on to a new and different village and we were still in Afghanistan, so we knew that anything could happen at any moment. Upon our arrival at Yakawlang, I (since I was getting sicker) sat with the backpacks, while all of my friends split up to see what, if anything was in this village, but primarily to find a ChaiKhana. Those same routines would be repeated over the next few days as we kept arriving in new villages, with someone different standing watch over our foreign looking backpacks.
Meanwhile, while my friends were gone, word had quickly spread throughout the village that some weird looking whitey's had arrived. Within minutes, it seemed every male in the village, young and old had come out to see the "whiteys". They formed a huge circle around me and since they don't understand the "comfortable space" between two strangers, that we all take for granted in this part of the world, they got "all up in my Grill!" They were innocently curious though, but it didn't take them long to come to the conclusion (since I had a Taliban worthy beard at that point) that I looked like a homeless-hippie-terrorist! Anyway, my friends had to push people out of the way like they were in a mosh pit, in order to tell me that the head man (police/political head) wanted to talk to all of us before we stayed or moved on.
So, we met the boss man and he tried his hardest to look more important and powerful than we all suspected he really was, but he was nice and respectful to us. Sharing a pot of tea with us he just wanted to know who we were and what we were doing there. When I told him I was American he just couldn't understand why I didn't hire a car in Kabul, since I was rich! In his defense, from Yakawlang westward to Herat, buses are non-existent and flying coaches (mini-vans) are few and very far between. There aren't many backpackers on a budget here and no one just shows up in some village and waits for the next flying coach to come along. Almost every tourist rents a private car, or sticks to the main roads between Kabul and Mazar-E Sharif, or the okay road from Kabul to Bamiyan and a bit further maybe to Band-e Amir. So waiting hours, sometimes days for a ride turned out to be part of the Afghan backpacking experience. Both of these processes too (meeting the head dude and waiting for a ride) would end up repeating themselves again and again, every time we arrived at a new village. And so it was that in every mud hut, village or town from Band-e Amir westward to Herat, (well, actually Yakawlang, Panjab, La'lva Sar Jangal, Gardani Garmab Pass and Chaghcharan) an Australian, Chinese/Canadian, German and American traveling together, all beat up, sick, skinny, dirty and smelly, met the power drunk man in charge of each his own territory and impressed upon them the superior cleanliness of the developed world.
By the time we got to Lal (La'lva Sar Jangal), Sue the Chinese/Canadian, was ready to give up. Not only did he get food poisoning (or something just like it), but he was also being eaten alive from bed bugs and flea's, so adding the baptism of dirt, the bland food (the same everywhere... never want cotton seed oil again!!) and the terrible roads, didn't help much! The rest of us were sore, and running very low on Afghans. To boost our moral level we finally found a well that wasn't surrounded with woman (not that WE cared) and we each washed up there. Not a shower, but damn it was nice. The woman were beautiful in this part of the country too. The only time we would get a glimpse was while they were washing dishes or clothes at the wells. They didn't wear Burkha's in that part of the country and usually didn't even cover their faces. Their eye's were beautiful and their hair style only added to their beauty . They braided their hair, wrapped it around their head and clipped it across their forehead and their clothing had, what I can only describe as a Tibetan style to it.
Gardani Garmab Pass (they just say Garmab) was our next stop, it was only three hours (125 Kilometers) away and 100 Afghans each. It wasn't very far, but it was so hard to find any ride westward that we got all excited and we always clung to the hope that we would catch a direct ride to Herat at the next village. A bigger than normal crowd formed instantly in Garmab and they were right up in our faces again, they were so close to us that we couldn't even bend over to fix our sandals. Within minutes a young cop broke through the crowd saying that he just received a phone call from La'l (the head dude that we checked in with there). The kid cop (no older than 15) told us "you are very dangerous, you must leave now!", I think he meant that the town was dangerous? Anyway, without hesitating, we all told him "Yes! We're very dangerous, kick us out now! Get us a ride to Herat!!!" We told him to ask a nearby truck driver (who was leaving anyway) to take us and we would sit on the roof, but the driver wanted too much money and riding on the roof in Afghanistan wouldn't be fun! We were kidding around for a while after that about us being such bad asses that we got kicked out of a town in Afghanistan!!
The next day would be our lucky day, we found a driver willing to take us the rest of the way to Herat! Praise be to Allah! We were all relieved about the ride, no more waiting for hours or days, plus after we paid I had only 50 Afghans to my name (one dollar) and just 9 days left on my visa, great timing! Our moods quickly changed when it came time to find a seat and saw that there were already 12 people, plus their luggage inside the tiny vehicle! This was gonna be Bad! We had a broken seat, no cushion under us and metal bars (from the seats in front of us) digging into our knees, and we weren't even moving yet! We ended up driving 7 hours the first day, 15 the second and 5 the third! I will speak no more of my dark feelings in that vehicle! The one bright spot from that whole drive came when we passed a jeep that had a flat tire and no jack. Our driver, knowing that it could be a long time before another car comes along, did exactly what he should have, he stopped to help change the tire. We all ran out of the Van and stretched and kissed the dirt, we were so thankful to change positions! One by one we looked around and noticed a field with a few farmers close by. Then, almost all at once we noticed that it wasn't just some regular field, it was an Poppy field! We all ran towards it, looking for red rocks (land mines), but didn't see any. We had a close look at the Poppy plants and the farmer had a huge smile on his face (way too happy to be working in the sun all day...). We took pictures with the Poppies and the farmers, closely examined the plants and we could see where the farmers cut the poppy to let a soft tar like fluid run out. That (I think) is pure Opium and after they process it, it becomes the devil...Heroin! I wish we had more time there, but as soon as we arrived at the field, our driver was yelling to us to come back. We made him wait a couple of minutes, acting like we didn't hear him, but making sure he didn't try to drive away with out us, not that we couldn't run faster than he was driving though.
In a nut shell, that was how we got from Band-E Amir to Herat. The landscape got greener and greener the closer we came to Herat and the people that only a couple of hundred kilometers east looked Tajik or Uzbek (almost Mongolian looking), now looked more and more like what I expected Afghani's to look like. That was the end of three of the hardest days traveling I think I've ever had (starting back in Garmab), being as sick as I was (running behind a building after every stop, looking for a suitable place to make a toilet) and not being able to eat didn't help much either, the lack of water and dyheria resulted in me becoming dehydrated as well! Lots of fun! Still though, when we finally rolled up onto smooth pavement for the first time in over two weeks, we would have welcomed any city, no matter how dirty, with open arms. But, it didn't take us long to realize that Herat was anything but dirty. It was almost clean and it managed to maintain it's charm and an identity in a country that was almost totally destroyed by constant (30 years) war, that was a sweet surprise.
Then I slept...
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Band-e Amir
Band-e Amir is excellent! This is just what we all needed, we've spent far too much time in Peshawar, and then a couple of days in Kabul after that. This is the perfect getaway!
The day before we left Bamiyan, a middle aged Aussie guy (peter) moved into one of the rooms across from us. He's been EVERYWHERE and he travels on his Harley! Pretty sweet. Anyway, he was also interested in going to Band-e Amir and since 4 other English speaking travellers were headed there he decided to go with us and then come back to check out Bamiyan later, rather than sooner. He left his Harley at the guest house and we all spent the next morning negotiating a price to Band-e Amir. In the end we setteled on 1,800 Afghani's between the 5 of us (The price included sleeping over one night and then driving back the next day), not bad and much cheaper then we were quoted in the first couple of hours, but still a nice fat amount of money for the driver. And yes, we all spent several hours,(separately) negotiating...
We ended up taking a Jeepish-SUV type thing, so for the first (and last) time in Afghanistan, were were actually very comfortable, plus the road there was good!! The drive only lasted about 3 hours and the landscape on the way looked a lot like Tibet, beautiful! The lakes of Band-e Amir appeared to be in a valley, more like a canyon and when we got to the edge of the cliff overlooking all of the lakes we were all stunned! The deep blue lakes were amazing, perfectly blue and the edges were turquoise. From our view point we could see at least 5-7 lakes spread out between a few miles. Some of them were attached to each other by no more than a foot or two of water, which would eventually make it's way into the next lake, which would in turn be caught by a natural damn like wall of minerals and other earth like elements. Only small amounts of water are able to escape the security of the walls and would sometimes turn into small waterfalls themselves on the outside of the natural damn. That same waterfall freezes in the winter, would love to see that! To add to it all, the scenery had once again changed. The color of the cliff's, mountains and natural stone monuments looked orange-ish and a lot like parts of Utah in the U.S. What we saw from the cliff top looked like an elaborate setting for a fantasy movie.
After snapping a few pic's we jumped back into the jeep, all excited like kids on their way to the beach. After the long winding road we finally arrived. We quickly grabbed our backpacks and scrambled towards the main lake, not worried at all about ditching our driver. As we arrived lake side, there were actually about ten shacks set up selling snacks, drinks and other eatable items as well as the usual cheap tourist items. Next to the shacks, against a cliff wall and further from the water, were three Chai-khana's (spl?). Chai-Khana's are common in Afghanistan and they double as restaurants and places to sleep. Chaikhana's are usually in one big, rough, empty room (no chairs, no tables) and everyone sits and eats on the floor. The kitchen is usually in a separate room and they just make a hole in the wall to make it more convenient to hand out the food. Carpets are rolled out and the food is served on them. When everyone is done eating, the carpets are rolled back up and cleaned outside. The price of dinner also includes floor space to sleep on (no beds though) and is usually around 50 Afghans. We all popped into one and having our priorities straight, in true Asian manner, before even checking out the lakes, we had a pot of green tea.
After negotiating the price for the night, we all set out to check out the lakes. The first thing we did was jump right in and after that, I quickly spotted an 8 meter (about 25 foot) cliff and had to try it out. Not knowing the customs, I jumped off with all of my cloths on. When I resurfaced from beneath the water a crowd had already formed and were clapping and yelling! It was great and I was urged to jump again. The people (sometimes very old) were like little children around the water, curious and playful. It was nice to see that side of those people that have a reputation (and rightfully so) of being hard as nails! To our surprise though almost none of them could swim, which actually makes a lot of sense since Afghanistan is land locked and lakes, even rivers are few and far between. The four of us knew right away that one night wasn't gonna cut it. After hearing that transportation is spotty at best, Peter wasn't willing to take the risk of getting stuck there for a week, with his bike in Bamiyan. So, after exploring much of the main lake, the shrine to Ali (another reason Afghans go there) and the surrounding area's, we found our driver, we told him that we'd be staying until we found a ride further westward. To his credit, he tried his best to explain that we may be stuck there for a long time, we had already assessed that risk and it was one well worth taking. Of course when we got back to the Chai-Khana, the dude that we talked to had changed what we had agreed upon and thinking he had us cornered with no other options, raised the price for the night and also crushed us by telling us there was no more fish, which we really wanted for dinner!
Without missing a beat, we grabbed our backpacks and checked out the other two C-K's. None of them would even listen to us, I guess the first place had a lot of pull in that area. Just when we were preparing to sleep outside, we ended up meeting the coolest old dude, who had a modest (OK, a beat-up place) little place directly under Ali's shrine. It had a dirt floor and was cold, but we were all more than happy to not have to sleep outside for the night, on principle. Not only did he (the coolest old dude) give us a better deal than we had first agreed on at the other place, but he also told us that he had fish for dinner!! Ohh Yeah! Since I got sick hitchhiking in Pakistan, my stomach had been terrible and I just couldn't take all the cotton seed oil that they cook with in that area of the world. At that point my stomach was becoming a real problem and I would have to force myself to eat and then quickly run the toilet!
So, for the next six days life was good! Peter did end up leaving the next day (first morning) and we never saw him again, but the four of us had a blast exploring all of the lakes and walking miles and miles to reach the lakes further away. We even took blankets and sleeping bags, made a fire lake side at the furthest lake, and hung out for the full moon, which made the area completely magical. No mushrooms were needed for that transformation of perception to take place! There is a feeling in the air that's indescribable in Afghanistan, but much more so in the nights, especially when we were all by ourselves with not a person or light (besides our fire, the full moon and the stars) around for miles! That's something I won't ever forget.
We tried to catch a ride further west every day, but no vehicles were heading that way, at least none with any room in them. So,after checking out all of the lakes, we wandered into a near-by village, checked out a school and let the kids laugh at our weird looking selves, then headed further into the village. Some farmers spotted us and brought us some freshly picked pea's, still in the pods! They were delicious! Any change of diet at that point was (I thought) more than welcomed! I was low on energy by that point, since my stomach was still bad. It sounded like there was a fish in my stomach (and it had been keeping my friends awake at night for days) and I could feel it moving (my stomach) and hear it making loud noises! So, I decided to stop under the shade of a tree and my friends continued on in the same direction. After a quick rest I headed back to our C-K, but I took a different route back, just to see more of the village. I saw a man working hard to make an extension on his mud house on the way and he asked me in broken English where I was from. I told him America and he almost had a heart attack! He begged me to come into his home and have some tea with him, I happily excepted the invitation.
He started yelling into his house and in seconds his five children and wife were there! They all had something in there hands. Blankets, cushions, brooms... They went to work cleaning the area and making it fit for a guest (which they treat as royalty in Afghanistan, make no mistake, these people are amazingly friendly and generous) and in minutes I was sitting down, more comfortably than I had been since Hunza, drinking tea with his beautiful family! Anyway, tea turned into lunch and he proudly told me that he had some special food that he was glad to be able to share with me. His wife brought out delicious freshly made wheat chapatti's (flat round bread) and right behind it, he was proud to announce, Goat brain!!! You're really gonna love this! Goat brain is a delicacy there, meat in general is a treat, so I did what any grateful, respectful guest would do, lapped it up with gusto! The meaty chunks actually weren't bad, but after a minute or two they were gone. With only a soupy, slimy, liquid remaining my meal got a LOT tougher, but I sucked it up (literally) and finished what was intentionally left for me, the guest, to eat! The guy was great though and he told me how happy (no, it's not a typing error) he, and the whole village was that "the Bush got rid of the Taliban!" I was shocked to here that. It's hard to find someone who speaks English well enough to have a conversation and if they do politics are usually excluded. He went on to tell me that the Taliban had called the whole village out to witness the execution of six people! Since the village is so tiny, it was no surprise that they were all his friends.
After a couple of hours, I finally left and thanked him with my whole heart for sharing, not only what little food he must have had, but possibly the best food in the whole village. The next day we finally found a ride to the next hiccup of a town, ended the last of our easy, comfortable days in Afghanistan and began the hardest leg of travel that I've been through anywhere in the world...
Friday, October 10, 2008
Bamiyan
We decided to leave Kabul sooner rather than later, everything is overpriced there and we were all looking forward to checking out Bamiyan and the rest of Afghanistan. Jacques, Steffan, Shu-San (a Chinese Canadian dude that we met in Kabul) and I, all took a 4 a.m. bus from Kabul to Bamiyan (10 hours - 250 Afghani's. One $ = 50 Afghans). The ride was uneventful, but the scenery was great. Desert plains roll into hills and then turn into mountains. The occasional shepherd will be seen blocking the whole road with his entire flock of Fat-Tailed sheep as well. Fat-Tailed Sheep are the best, right up there with Water Buffalo. They have the biggest asses anywhere! They can hang with the best of them (in fact they are the best of them), their booty shakes with every step and it didn't take us long to start yelling out cat calls and whistling as we passed. The driver finally understood what we were doing (took him a while) and didn't hide his amusement, but the shepherds never quite got it. During one trafic jam (sheep crossing) we jumped out and started taking close up shots of their boo-tay! The shepherd got kind of pissed off and to avoid having him chop off one of our limbs we dove back in the van with our tails between our legs! A few hours later, as we got close to Bamiyan our driver yelled out Zohak! and pointed to a old fort built on the top of a steep hill face. A lot of the walls were still intact and some structures still remained. We all wanted to make sure we came back and checked it out before we left Bamiyan.
We finally arrived in Bamiyan tired, after 10 hours of bumps and dirt, but very excited. Bamiyan is a very small, clean, and well kept town. It also home to the Hazara people (they were the main targets of genocide by the Taliban) and former home of the largest Buddha statue in the world until the Taliban destroyed them (the statue's)! We stayed at Mama Najaf (250 Afghani's each), a restaurant for the bus drivers and some locals, with three empty rooms upstairs built onto the roof. We all packed into one and they gave us cushions and blankets to sleep on. There was a killer toilet on the roof too(next to our rooms), they pretty much built four walls and cut a hole in the roof. Down below was a new unmarked land mine zone, made by us (toxic, but not deadly)! We had great views from the roof top though. We could see the whole mountain side, a huge, flat, wall of a rock face with little black dots (caves) all over it and two big niche's carved into it, were the Buddha's used to be.
Although the Taliban destroyed the statue's, the Buddha niche's are still there as well as an elaborate network of caves, in which some people still call there homes. Unfortunately, the whole area (as well as much of the country) was carpeted with land mines, and only recently have some area's been de-mined. It's easy to tell if your in the mine zone though, red painted rocks mean live land mine area's and white rocks mean the area has been de-mined. We all went our own ways while at the niche's. I climbed up into some caves and checked them out and met a few family's who still live in some of the larger ones. We all met up at the niche that used to hold the smaller of the two Buddhas and took our time walking back into town through a peaceful, old village.
After two or three laid back days, Jacques and I decided to hitch a ride back to Zohak. We had read a little about Zohak in our room. We copied some pages of an old Lonely Planet Central Asia guide book while in Pakistan and next to the Bamiyan section there was a small write up about Zohak. Which really made us want to check it out, I've since found this about Zohak...
Written by Nancy Hatch Dupree- "An Historical Guide to Afghanistan"
"This mass of impressive ruins was once the principal fortress protecting the entrance to the City of Bamiyan during the reigns of the Shansabani Kings in the 12-13th centuries A.D. The natural defenses afforded by the cliff had been recognized from much earlier times, as might well be expected. Archaeologists have found evidence that man had built defensive works here as early as the end of the B.C. era, and, when the Hephthalite Huns fought for possession and power within these mountains in the 6th century A.D., there was a considerable complex here. The present remains, however, are those of the fortress which withstood the advance of a Mongol army led by Genghis Khan's favorite grandson in 1221. The resistance was stout and determined and during the melee on the plain at its foot, the young commander fell mortally wounded. In revenge Genghis Khan vowed to destroy the valley, which he did, most thoroughly.
Today's visitors enter the fortress via the very pathway used by the original defenders and one can easily envision the passage of mounted cavalry, with all the attendant sounds, smells and confusion. On the way are attractively decorated towers for guards on duty. These towers had no doorways but were entered by ladders which were pulled up later to make the tower totally secure. There the soldiers stood on wooden platforms laid on heavy supporting beams, and shot their arrows through loopholes.
...city-fortress of glowing magenta, atop such cliffs, must of necessity have inspired romantics with tales of legendary kings and heroes. So it is not surprising to learn from the inhabitants of Bamiyan that this was actually, in fact, the royal abode of Zohak. A wilder occupant for this fairyland city could hardly be found.
Zohak first appears in the Shahnama as a noble prince of Arabia, a devoted son well-beloved by his people. He became, however, possessed of the Devil who induced him to usurp his father's throne whereupon the Devil appeared disguised as a loyal subject who asked to kiss the new king on the shoulders in token of his complete submission. No sooner had he done so, and vanished, than two black serpents thrust their heads out from where the kisses had been placed. Attempts to cut them off only resulted in their immediate return and their increased demand for human brains, the only food they would accept.
At the same time that Zohak was being seduced by the Devil, civil war broke out in Iran and Zohak marched in as the champion of one faction and was enthroned as the emperor of Iran. For a thousand years his rule brought terror and chaos to the land, but then the hero Fraidun was born. After many escapades, Fraidun finally succeeded in taking Zohak prisoner whereupon he took the dragon-king to a far off mountain peak and left him there to die. The Shahnama ends the tale here but, typically, Afghan legend goes on to elaborate by saying that, deprived of their daily meal of brains, the serpents turned on Zohak, bit into his scalp and fed upon his brains until he died."
Anyway, it was great exploring the ruins, but getting back to Bamiyan was much harder than getting out. We waited at a police check point and when the cops finished asking the drivers and passengers questions we would ask if we could catch a lift back with them. Every vehicle was full (it probably didn't help that I looked like Bin Laden at the time either), but after a couple of hours we finally met some friendly guys who were nice enough to let us pack into the back of their SUV. After our visit to Zohak and the occasional chat with some Kiwi Army personnel, we were ready to head off to Band-e Amir, the killer, deep blue lakes further west. Although my stomach was steadily becoming worse and worse (dyheria) I did my best to ignore it and move on. After all this would probably be my one and only time in Afghanistan and I wasn't about to sleep the whole experience away! As I'd find out a week or two later though, this wasn't just some travellers dyheria and I couldn't just ignore it.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Kabul
Wow, I've made it through Afghanistan and some of the toughest travelling anywhere! On our ride into the country there was almost a shoot-out, but not with Taliban. The Police and the Afghan army almost got into it with each other, in the end though cool heads prevailed, even after a police man pointed his rifle at the head of an Afghan army member!!
Video Library Player: The Highway From Kabul to Jalalabad
(this was the route I came in on in 2005, much different now!)
We left Peshawar (Pakistan) early in the morning, took a local bus (tourists aren't supposed to but...) and crossed the Khyber Pass. Throughout history this area and has proved to be hell for anyone stupid enough to try to invade. The Khyber Pass is the entrance to an unforgiving land with old forts dotting the horizon, with dust and sand in everything (including your mouth). Oh... and the border of the U.S. led (supported by NATO and other coalition forces) war on terror. So, it should come as no surprise when i say it felt like an adventure just driving through, even on a bus. There was a feeling in the air there that I can't really describe (more so in Kabul), maybe it's the history and wildness of the country, or maybe just the reputation and fear that the names Kabul, or The Khyber Pass conjure up??? Probably a little of both mixed with the excitement of uncertainty about the future. Some people have started to climb out of their shell's and have dared to hope for safety, stability and peace, others just get on with the life they've learned to live with and hope it doesn't get any worse. I can't explain it, but it was a feeling unlike any other country I've been to.
Anyway, somewhere after Jalalabad (on our way to Kabul) traffic came to a complete halt. I think there was road work being done (Allah knows they need it). So, we all got out of the bus and drank some tea under the shelter of a huge tent. Five or ten minutes later there was a bunch of yelling and a big crowd forming. A kid on our bus spoke some English and told us that "the police were stealing money from the truck drivers and now they're (the truck drivers) all angry!" A minute later a nice, new military pickup went flying by in the direction of the crowd, two soldiers jumped out and grabbed a police officer and drove him back to (about 15 feet from us) us. The soldiers were yelling at him and tried to put him in the back of their truck, but he fought. The soldiers ended up slapping him and he jumped back and pointed his machine gun at a soldiers face. Somehow they said the right thing and they ended up throwing the police man in the back! The crowd cheered as they drove away and I was shocked to think that justice had been done in the middle of an Afghan desert. The soldiers came across as well trained and restrained, very professional, they actually defused the situation! That was a surprise. anyway, day one was already crazy and i didn't want it to get any crazier.
Luckily there was no more drama in store for us that day. Besides the roads, if you can call them that, the ride to Kabul was straight forward. Afghanistan has, by far, the worst roads I've been on. From Kandahar in the south, up to Kabul in the middle and further on to Mazar-e Sharif in the north, the roads are pretty new and smooth. Beyond that the roads are either terrible or non-existent! So, by the time we got into Kabul, just after sunset, our backs were sore and we were pretty dirty. Entering Kabul for the first time, in the night time, was was amazing!! The city actually had a buzz to it, people were running around all over the place and traffic was crazy. Anyway, arriving in the dark probably wasn't the best time, since we didn't know where the hell we were, we (Jacques and Steffan) didn't even have a guide book! We managed to copy some pages out of an old 1990's Lonely Planet guide book, but half of the buildings had been destroyed and we weren't even sure where the bus had dropped us. luckily the guy that spoke English on our bus walked us through a bazaar and showed us the area that has hotels (thank you Allah). To say it would have been hard to find in the dark with out him, would have been the king of all understatements.
We found three hotels pretty close by, but as our friend explained, none of them would let us stay since tourists weren't allowed. Finally one hotel said we could stay, but changed the price as we were about to check in, then said they were full. We all got mad and wanted to hold them to the first price we were given, but the guy was rude and wouldn't listen. We had all been travelling for a while at that point (well over a year) and had contracted the travelers disease, in other words we were cheap and used to proving a point for the principle of it. So, we all just sat on the front steps of the hotel and I spread out a sheet and laid down. The receptionist ended up calling the police and we explained that (now) this hotel is full (since that's what the receptionist changed his story to) and none of the other hotels will let us stay without some kind of permit. The cop walked us over to the nearest hotel and made a deal with that receptionist allowing us to stay, as long as we left by 8 in the morning. So, that was the end of a long first day, we never even stopped to think that what we did might have been dangerous, we just wanted a place to wash the dirt off of us and sleep. The next day we found a few places to stay, but stayed at the Park Hotel (since it was the cheapest we could find) for $10 each, the most the three of us had paid for a hotel in a long, long time!
Kabul was already a great experience though. Just walking around and checking out different markets and watching their different way of life was fun and new. I thought that I had witnessed optimism amongst some of the people as well. It seemed that they were eager to get on with their lives after so much war and misery for so long. Over 1,000,000 people were killed during the Russian invasion! And after the Russians left, things actually got worse with the Taliban! Afghan's are amazing people though and keep moving forward. The rest of us should check our heads the next time we start complaining about our standard of living!
After just a couple of days in Kabul, we thought we'd spent enough time in city's (Peshawar before Kabul), so we planned on heading west to Bamian. We heard is was beautiful and peaceful there and wanted to check out the Buddha niche's (where the largest Buddha statue in the world was until the Taliban destroyed them).
I really wanted to hang out with some Hazaras as well, so unwinding in Bamian sounded great! The road there wasn't bad either, now it was time to see how Afghanistan really was...
"Here in Araya, one of the lonely places of the earth with all the winds of Asia droning over it, where the mountains seemed like the bones of the world breaking through. I had the sensation of emerging from a country that would continue to exist more of less unchanged whatever disasters overtook the rest of mankind."
- A short walk in the Hindu Kush
Video Library Player: The Highway From Kabul to Jalalabad
(this was the route I came in on in 2005, much different now!)
We left Peshawar (Pakistan) early in the morning, took a local bus (tourists aren't supposed to but...) and crossed the Khyber Pass. Throughout history this area and has proved to be hell for anyone stupid enough to try to invade. The Khyber Pass is the entrance to an unforgiving land with old forts dotting the horizon, with dust and sand in everything (including your mouth). Oh... and the border of the U.S. led (supported by NATO and other coalition forces) war on terror. So, it should come as no surprise when i say it felt like an adventure just driving through, even on a bus. There was a feeling in the air there that I can't really describe (more so in Kabul), maybe it's the history and wildness of the country, or maybe just the reputation and fear that the names Kabul, or The Khyber Pass conjure up??? Probably a little of both mixed with the excitement of uncertainty about the future. Some people have started to climb out of their shell's and have dared to hope for safety, stability and peace, others just get on with the life they've learned to live with and hope it doesn't get any worse. I can't explain it, but it was a feeling unlike any other country I've been to.
Anyway, somewhere after Jalalabad (on our way to Kabul) traffic came to a complete halt. I think there was road work being done (Allah knows they need it). So, we all got out of the bus and drank some tea under the shelter of a huge tent. Five or ten minutes later there was a bunch of yelling and a big crowd forming. A kid on our bus spoke some English and told us that "the police were stealing money from the truck drivers and now they're (the truck drivers) all angry!" A minute later a nice, new military pickup went flying by in the direction of the crowd, two soldiers jumped out and grabbed a police officer and drove him back to (about 15 feet from us) us. The soldiers were yelling at him and tried to put him in the back of their truck, but he fought. The soldiers ended up slapping him and he jumped back and pointed his machine gun at a soldiers face. Somehow they said the right thing and they ended up throwing the police man in the back! The crowd cheered as they drove away and I was shocked to think that justice had been done in the middle of an Afghan desert. The soldiers came across as well trained and restrained, very professional, they actually defused the situation! That was a surprise. anyway, day one was already crazy and i didn't want it to get any crazier.
Luckily there was no more drama in store for us that day. Besides the roads, if you can call them that, the ride to Kabul was straight forward. Afghanistan has, by far, the worst roads I've been on. From Kandahar in the south, up to Kabul in the middle and further on to Mazar-e Sharif in the north, the roads are pretty new and smooth. Beyond that the roads are either terrible or non-existent! So, by the time we got into Kabul, just after sunset, our backs were sore and we were pretty dirty. Entering Kabul for the first time, in the night time, was was amazing!! The city actually had a buzz to it, people were running around all over the place and traffic was crazy. Anyway, arriving in the dark probably wasn't the best time, since we didn't know where the hell we were, we (Jacques and Steffan) didn't even have a guide book! We managed to copy some pages out of an old 1990's Lonely Planet guide book, but half of the buildings had been destroyed and we weren't even sure where the bus had dropped us. luckily the guy that spoke English on our bus walked us through a bazaar and showed us the area that has hotels (thank you Allah). To say it would have been hard to find in the dark with out him, would have been the king of all understatements.
We found three hotels pretty close by, but as our friend explained, none of them would let us stay since tourists weren't allowed. Finally one hotel said we could stay, but changed the price as we were about to check in, then said they were full. We all got mad and wanted to hold them to the first price we were given, but the guy was rude and wouldn't listen. We had all been travelling for a while at that point (well over a year) and had contracted the travelers disease, in other words we were cheap and used to proving a point for the principle of it. So, we all just sat on the front steps of the hotel and I spread out a sheet and laid down. The receptionist ended up calling the police and we explained that (now) this hotel is full (since that's what the receptionist changed his story to) and none of the other hotels will let us stay without some kind of permit. The cop walked us over to the nearest hotel and made a deal with that receptionist allowing us to stay, as long as we left by 8 in the morning. So, that was the end of a long first day, we never even stopped to think that what we did might have been dangerous, we just wanted a place to wash the dirt off of us and sleep. The next day we found a few places to stay, but stayed at the Park Hotel (since it was the cheapest we could find) for $10 each, the most the three of us had paid for a hotel in a long, long time!
Kabul was already a great experience though. Just walking around and checking out different markets and watching their different way of life was fun and new. I thought that I had witnessed optimism amongst some of the people as well. It seemed that they were eager to get on with their lives after so much war and misery for so long. Over 1,000,000 people were killed during the Russian invasion! And after the Russians left, things actually got worse with the Taliban! Afghan's are amazing people though and keep moving forward. The rest of us should check our heads the next time we start complaining about our standard of living!
After just a couple of days in Kabul, we thought we'd spent enough time in city's (Peshawar before Kabul), so we planned on heading west to Bamian. We heard is was beautiful and peaceful there and wanted to check out the Buddha niche's (where the largest Buddha statue in the world was until the Taliban destroyed them).
I really wanted to hang out with some Hazaras as well, so unwinding in Bamian sounded great! The road there wasn't bad either, now it was time to see how Afghanistan really was...
"Here in Araya, one of the lonely places of the earth with all the winds of Asia droning over it, where the mountains seemed like the bones of the world breaking through. I had the sensation of emerging from a country that would continue to exist more of less unchanged whatever disasters overtook the rest of mankind."
- A short walk in the Hindu Kush
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Afghan facts
These are just a few facts about Afghanistan that might make the reading more understandable and you might just learn a few things.
Ethnic groups - Pashtun 42%, Tajik 27%, Hazara 9%, Uzbek 9%, Aimak 4%, Turkmen 3%, Baloch 2%, other 4%
Borders - China 76 km, Iran 936 km, Pakistan 2,430 km, Tajikistan 1,206 km, Turkmenistan 744 km, Uzbekistan 137 km
Population - 32,738,376
GDP per capita - $270.44 per capita
Capital with population - Kabul - (est. 3,000,000 to 4,000,000)
Background - Ahmad Shah DURRANI unified the Pashtun tribes and founded Afghanistan in 1747. The country served as a buffer between the British and Russian empires until it won independence from notional British control in 1919. A brief experiment in democracy ended in a 1973 coup and a 1978 Communist counter-coup. The Soviet Union invaded in 1979 to support the tottering Afghan Communist regime, touching off a long and destructive war. The USSR withdrew in 1989 under relentless pressure by internationally supported anti-Communist mujahedin rebels. A series of subsequent civil wars saw Kabul finally fall in 1996 to the Taliban, a hardline Pakistani-sponsored movement that emerged in 1994 to end the country's civil war and anarchy. Following the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks in New York City, a US, Allied, and anti-Taliban Northern Alliance military action toppled the Taliban for sheltering Osama BIN LADIN. The UN-sponsored Bonn Conference in 2001 established a process for political reconstruction that included the adoption of a new constitution, a presidential election in 2004, and National Assembly elections in 2005. In December 2004, Hamid KARZAI became the first democratically elected president of Afghanistan and the National Assembly was inaugurated the following December. Despite gains toward building a stable central government, a resurgent Taliban and continuing provincial instability - particularly in the south and the east - remain serious challenges for the Afghan Government.
Statistics taken from Nationmaster.com
Ethnic groups - Pashtun 42%, Tajik 27%, Hazara 9%, Uzbek 9%, Aimak 4%, Turkmen 3%, Baloch 2%, other 4%
Borders - China 76 km, Iran 936 km, Pakistan 2,430 km, Tajikistan 1,206 km, Turkmenistan 744 km, Uzbekistan 137 km
Population - 32,738,376
GDP per capita - $270.44 per capita
Capital with population - Kabul - (est. 3,000,000 to 4,000,000)
Background - Ahmad Shah DURRANI unified the Pashtun tribes and founded Afghanistan in 1747. The country served as a buffer between the British and Russian empires until it won independence from notional British control in 1919. A brief experiment in democracy ended in a 1973 coup and a 1978 Communist counter-coup. The Soviet Union invaded in 1979 to support the tottering Afghan Communist regime, touching off a long and destructive war. The USSR withdrew in 1989 under relentless pressure by internationally supported anti-Communist mujahedin rebels. A series of subsequent civil wars saw Kabul finally fall in 1996 to the Taliban, a hardline Pakistani-sponsored movement that emerged in 1994 to end the country's civil war and anarchy. Following the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks in New York City, a US, Allied, and anti-Taliban Northern Alliance military action toppled the Taliban for sheltering Osama BIN LADIN. The UN-sponsored Bonn Conference in 2001 established a process for political reconstruction that included the adoption of a new constitution, a presidential election in 2004, and National Assembly elections in 2005. In December 2004, Hamid KARZAI became the first democratically elected president of Afghanistan and the National Assembly was inaugurated the following December. Despite gains toward building a stable central government, a resurgent Taliban and continuing provincial instability - particularly in the south and the east - remain serious challenges for the Afghan Government.
Statistics taken from Nationmaster.com
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