As Afghanistan falls, I reflect on my journey there as a 23-year-old hiker on the hippie trail from Istanbul to Kathmandu. Yesterday and today it is a poor but formidable country that is constantly ignored and underestimated by foreign powers.
Travel with me to another dreamy day in Herat, Afghanistan in this diary entry from 1978.
Monday July 31, 1978: Herat.
I didn't move for nine hours. After breakfast we rented our bikes and went on a little adventure. Good thing it had wheels. We could stop as often as we wanted, and if people were too busy, we could leave clean. The wind was cooling us and everything happened at a much faster pace than when we were walking.
After passing the part of the city already familiar to us, we headed towards the old ruined minarets, which we saw two days ago at the entrance to Herat. While visiting this historical site, an old man allowed us to enter the mosque with 10 Afghans and we saw the tomb of an old Afghan king.
We now saw a great historical site and stopped to chat in the shade with some earnest guys. We had a great time talking and learning about the culture and language. We also learned from our friend that we spend a lot of money on almost everything.
I enjoyed going and made a fantastic photo shoot. This is the photographer moment I've been waiting for. I have guys throwing melons, colorful girls sitting on sidewalks, lazy teenagers sliding around in hot vans, and lots of little pieces of Afghan life. People are genuinely friendly and proud, they shake my hand firmly and evenly. They threw fruit at me, but overall it's one of the friendliest places I've been. All the women who came out into the street and reached adulthood were completely hidden, they could only be seen through a small mesh cloth that covered their faces.
We were determined to pedal in the same direction until we reached the outskirts of the city. Wetting our whistles with sprite, we walked along a dusty road until the city turned into a dirty village, which I saw in Egypt and Morocco. Returning, we found ourselves in a new and different world. The quiet brown mud streets turned into high, long and narrow walls. The walls are sometimes broken up with small shops and rustic wooden doors. Old and young sat as if waiting for a stranger to pass by on a bicycle. I'm sure we were a very rare sight for them. I wonder if they appreciated our presence or if we disturbed their peace.
I've experimented with a variety of greetings, from baby wave greetings to the solemn "kiss your hand and put it on your heart" to the solemn "kiss your hand and put it on your heart" offered by religious types. This gives good results. I had a bag full of candy for gifts and I feel better about giving than money.
You know, in this happy society all seem to be contented, and I have seen no famine, and very few exacting beggars. They have their modest performance needs and everything seems to be working well and there is more than enough tea, marijuana and melons for everyone.
We beat until we were full and realized that it was hard and hard work. Then, on the way back, we stopped at a hay mill, romantically struck by a pair of oxen pulling a bundle of hay. What a dreamy viewing and photo opportunity! I took the opportunity to drive and had an unforgettable time. I had to sit on biscuits and drive oxen everywhere, and I think the villagers had as much fun with me as I had with them and their grass. This is optimality.
Two hours later we returned our bikes and paid a dollar each. We grabbed a melon and headed to our hotel. Excited but satisfied, we stopped by the pool, stripped and bathed. Instant update. Wow! What a fantastic day we have! We walked around and did some diving and took some good pictures and I was like, "Oh my God, this is what vacations should be like." We crashed in the bedroom, messed around a bit and went downstairs to eat lunch. Good sleep, good food and my vitamin pills were my formula to make the rest of this trip enjoyable and successful. I don't think I can go wrong with this recipe, but we'll have to wait and see, right?
After a rest and a few cold showers, the sun dropped a bit in the sky and we were off. While I was negotiating with the cute mink boy I fell in love with, Martin got off the Istanbul-Tehran bus and we chatted and he highly recommended the Endless Bazaar. We said we would go there.
I had a magnifying glass and felt such a thrill seeing these beautiful people. I can't wait to see my photos! We changed or merged from scene to scene and absorbed all the images of the market. What a sensory experience! We passed sugar workers or plumbers, tinners, weavers, bead makers, bead workers, canal workers, people sharpening knives on pedal turning wheels, chain drums and nail benders. Everything is done by hand. Young and old worked furiously all their lives at the same mundane job. I will never complain about a long day of work teaching piano again.
Each shop was about five meters wide, and every five meters was a new stage, a new perspective on Afghan life. Some things we didn't even understand. At one point the little kids kept asking for "baksheesh" (cash gifts) and we had to hide in the big mosque where they were chased by a policeman and we had to take off our shoes and pay him to go see the country. It was impressive.
Now we were exhausted. We got back to the hotel, went swimming and a strange dog pulled my glasses out of my pocket and the lenses fell off. I was worried but it came back as good as new. The thought of breaking my glasses and having to carry a spare school frame scares me.
In the room we tried some more hash and went to mix. The mixture has thickened a little. Little things like the man pulling the tomatoes especially tickled me, and I was more sensitive to potential pests and wanted to roam a little more freely. I didn't know if it was because of the hash or if I was in a really good mood.
We got into a funny little taxi with three wheels that looked like a blown up ice cream truck, went to the other side of town and I got to take some really cool photos. Lights and flashlights are available. I let men take pictures the way I want. I'll even lift their chin a little or hold the flashlight closer to them. They may or may not, but my subject and I have had a memorable time trying.
We made a few more mistakes and then jumped into a crazy two-horse cab. We rolled into town like tanks and sang very funny or at least funny songs to our driver. We surprised him with ten safe afghans and he barely had time to complain as we drove off. These tourists rode only on horseback. I thought that if you try to negotiate a price before sitting down at the table, they'll know you're new to the game and rip you off. If you go ahead and say "House of James" and pay them what you think is reasonable, you'll be fine.
On the way back I bought a nice little gift: five afghans (1 cent). Then we stopped to see my mink friend. I knew I was again engaged in tough negotiations, and so it was. It was my third time in his shop and I knew if I walked in without that mink I would be kicking ass. I love her like I loved the old worm (a cat I befriended and brought home in 2nd grade who gave me worms). I ended up choosing the 460 afghan ($12) and walked away with great leather.
Now we were hungry and our hotel was waiting for us. We live fantastically. When we were seated where the waiters recognized us, we ordered a meat dinner with tea and melon. We drank water and my stool is hard so we drank more. I feel good, I'm in control and everything I want, I can get. Wow!
In the bedroom, I took a long shower, cleaned my bag, enjoyed my little memories and hit the bag. I laid down without thinking about how cockroaches got their name. (Maybe I was stoned after all.)
People enjoy the same things all over the world. The old housekeeper ignored my request for toilet paper and dreamily said, "Look, isn't this pretty?" We both stood on the roof of the hotel, watching the firework tanks go by as the sun set behind a distant mountain.
We were sitting talking to the earnest Afghans in the park when one of them asked, “You don't travel with your wives? I said my friend was at home and she said, “Oh, this is too complicated. I could never do it." I feel like I've been "on the road" for a long time.
(This is entry #3 in a five-part series. Stay tuned, tomorrow I'll be traveling 23,500 miles across Afghanistan and exploring the capital, Kabul.)