Afghanistan

Visited: October 2023

Duration of visit: 10 days

Capital city: Kabul

Population: 40 million (2023)

• Crossing Torkham border – one of the most inhumane border crossing.
• Arranging permits at various ministries in the capital, drinking tea and taking selfies with the Taliban.
• Exploring Kabul markets, mosques and sights, while meeting people who were eager to talk to me in broken English, help and show me their appreciation to visit their land.
• Visiting Bamiyan and mourning for the unforgivable & outrageous destruction of 1,500 years old statues of Buddhas.
• Admiring a chain of intensely blue lakes formed from mineral-rich water in Band-e-Amir National Park.
• The Blue Mosque surrounded by tents with refuges, who lost their homes in recent earthquakes in Herat.
• Driving through remote areas in a 4WD from Herat to Maymana.
• Admiring beautiful mosque in Mazar-i-Sharif, where Shrine of Hazrat Ali stands.
• Savoring fresh, inexpensive fruit juices and shakes all over the country.

More than 40 years of conflicts have turned Afghanistan into an actual war-torn country. Since 1979, when rebellion against the Communist party started in a form of a 10 years long war between the Soviet Union and Mujahideen (jihadist militants), the country has seen very little peace. The Soviets defeat was followed by fight among Mujahideen warlords, impoverishing the country even more. A former Mujahid, Mullah Omar, founded a movement named Taliban in the city of Kandahar as a response to the disappointment that Islamic law had not been enforced after the communists were kicked out. The Taliban quickly took over the whole Kandahar province and controlled 90% of Afghanistan’s territory, including Kabul, ruling with heavy-handed approach until 2001.

The two decades long American Invasion was covered by international media: it began with the hunt of Osama bin Laden as the leader of Al Qaeda and infamously ended with their withdrawal in 2021, after which the Taliban took over the country.

In 2023 the Taliban still rule the country, but the situation is different than before the American invasion. It is provocative to say that Afghanistan right now has been the safest for decades, but it is a fact. The Taliban welcome tourists to help improve their public image, hoping to get international recognition eventually.

I decided to visit Afghanistan as part of Central Asian trip in October – November 2023, entering through Torkham border after receiving the Afghani visa in Peshawar (Pakistan) and exiting to Tajikistan at Shir Khan Bandar. I traveled for ten days overland and took a flight from Kabul to Herat in order to save my limited time.

There was not much official information available, but, through a WhatsApp group of travelers, I was well informed about the current situation, conditions of travelling, checkpoints, behavioral habits and risks. I tried to adapt to local lifestyle, customs or appearance as much as possible: dressed in perahan tunban (long top and loose trousers), patu (thick shawl) covering my head or wrapped around my neck and long beard facilitated my meetings with local rulers.

I am always excited, when crossing borders. In theory, a small distance can cause a complete change in practice: new rules, language, currency, habits, migration officers, customs checkpoints. Torkham international border crossing between Pakistan and Afghanistan is one of the most legendary crossroads in Asia, where general chaos, rude Pakistani police, hundreds of immigrants and kilometers of loaded trucks occasionally cause riots, violence or even shooting. A perfect example of how brutal, inhospitable and violent our human race can behave without a justified cause.

Many kilometers before arriving to the border, loaded colorful trucks were parked along the road, waiting patiently for their turn. It could take days to reach the border itself and another day of travelling to a 230 kilometers distant Kabul. During my border crossing, additional pressure was created by groups of illegal Afghani immigrants, forced to return to their homeland by Pakistani authorities.

Arriving there, slightly less people were banded together, mostly Afghani families who are, according to the recent Pakistani resolution, obliged to return home within the next 15 days. Young children screaming, mothers sweating in the morning sun completely covered with burkas, men pushing or screaming: all of them holding to seldom possessions. Some independent men were trying to squeeze in on the side, myself following my friend Mansoor and trying to stay calm in this chaos.

The only way that Pakistani guards and special policemen forces can show their authority is hitting people with bamboo sticks, sometimes breaking them due to the power applied. But people are not scared, they keep pushing back and determined to not be denied. A stupid act of desperation, completely unnecessary; if we were all waiting patiently and moving without pushing each other, the result would be the same.

Finally, I pass through the first filter. At various checkpoints they scan my bag and search my body. I get a Pakistani exit stamp in my passport and continue walking through the corridor that is separated by metal fence.

The situation on Afghani side is calmer. After verifying my visa, my passport is stamped. I receive a drop of polio vaccine in my mouth and spit it out immediately. Nobody cares. I am stopped by Taliban authorities. My first encounter with people who took over control of Afghanistan two years ago. It is very intriguing. A few questions, a glass of water and a cup of tea to break the ice, are offered to me. Since I need a toilet more than tea, I am guided to the praying area, where I can release the pressure. The officer takes a picture of me with his cell phone and shows me photos of other tourists that have crossed the border recently.

The communication is through translation of my friend Mansoor. The Taliban don’t speak any English. Nobody has a clue where Slovenia is.

“Welcome to Afghanistan. We are opening our heart to offer you hospitality. You are welcome.”

I thank for hospitality and claim it is not fair that he took a photo of me and I cannot do the same to him. He started to smile and allows me to take a shot: “No problem, we can do that. You are right!”

The ride to Kabul is smooth in a Toyota Corolla shared taxi. The road is paved, the mountainous scenery dry, steep and rocky. When we reach plain areas, the land turns fertile, with plantations of many fruit trees and vegetable gardens. We stop in a roadside restaurant for refreshments. Long tables are quickly filled with chapati, biryani rice, vegetables, meet, beans and tea. I feel better after days of stomach infection. The food is simple, but delicious. We eat with hands, I meet English speaking students, who offer me help in case needed and exchange phone numbers.

The capital city of Afghanistan is full of checkpoints where the Taliban more or less rigorously inspect passing vehicles and walking pedestrians. There are hardly any buses for metropolitan transport. Almost all cars in Kabul are Toyota Corollas, sedan or caravan versions, approximately 40 to 50 years old.

Surprisingly fluent traffic is based on pushing, seeking and advantage, improvisation and horn indication. Since there are not many motorbikes, trucks, nor rickshaws, crossing the streets is much less challenging. At 1,790 meters above sea level, the temperatures in late October are pleasant, but daylight is short.

Kabul is not particularly famous for cultural landmarks, and the quality of them cannot be compared by international standards. Even though I was considering to hire a local guide before arriving, due to uncertain security situation, at the end, I felt comfortable enough to explore the city by myself.

The next day, my first stop is the Ministry of Information and Culture, to obtain a permission to visit Kabul and other regions in the country. Easi to spot on Google maps, the location turns out to be confusing and heavily guarded by Taliban forces. Asking around, I am sent to the right building, where I have to take my shoes off before entering the office.

A young guy instructs me how to write a formal letter to the responsible person, explaining who I am, what the objective of my visit is and which provinces I am planning to visit. I write the letter by hand, in English.

There are six bored people in the room, working on the same issue: how to kill time. The elderly guy offers me a cup of tea, while the others discuss in their language where the hell Slovenia is.

A copy of my passport is added to the formal letter and I advance to the next building, where a Taliban in his mid-thirties asks me additional questions and offers me more green tea. After 30 minutes of waiting, I receive a permit, that is later signed by the chief in the first office.

I am ready to continue the process at the Ministry of Tourism, only 20 minutes away by taxi. At a random gate that reminded more of an abandoned warehouse metal hole, I am greeted by an old guy, who is accompanied by a uniformed guard. I understand he wants to give me a hug, so I offer him one as well … only to realize that he is actually searching my body for weapons. I smile; he looks at me as if I was crazy.

My regional permission is issued within the next twenty minutes: “Welcome to Afghanistan. You can travel to all regions, without any other limitations, with or without a guide. Well, I still recommend you to register at all local office in other regions on the day of your arrival!”. No money is requested, no additional explanations are asked. I am offered a tourist guidebook of Afghanistan, but I reject it.

One of the official web sites promotes Kabul as follows: “The capital city of Afghanistan offers a rich and diverse cultural experience for visitors. Despite its tumultuous past, Kabul is gradually emerging as a popular tourist destination. The city is known for its historical landmarks, picturesque landscapes, and vibrant markets.” Maybe in 20 years of peace and reasonable leadership Kabul could emerge as a popular tourist destination or possess historical landmarks, but not in 2023.

Babur’s Gardens are one of the top attractions in Kabul, located in the foothills of the Hindu Kush mountains. Built in the early 16^th century, Babur’s Gardens were originally designed as the final resting place for Emperor Babur, the founder of the Mughal empire. It might have been a great achievement at that time, but these days the poorly maintained gardens offer no more than an expensive, tranquil escape from the bustling city with its terraces, waterless fountains and fruit trees. Walking along the pathways, I enjoy much more the stunning views of the surrounding mountains and the cityscape of Kabul than the garden itself. At the tomb of Emperor Babur, a white marble mausoleum adorned with intricate Mughal architecture, I meet a group of locals, who explained me some historical facts about the place.

I end up at Mandawi market by coincidence, when strolling around the capital. Action on every step reflects the atmosphere on the streets that are filled up with restaurants, juice stands, street vendors, shops and people. It is hard to say how much business is actually realized, but sometimes I just stop and observe colorful scenes that take me over.

Kabul’s bird market, also known as the Alley of Straw Sellers, is a narrow lane tucked away behind the main road passing along the Maiwand road, lined with stalls and booths selling birds. I have problems finding the location, so I ask a textile vendor to orientate me to the right direction. He leaves his stand immediately and accompanies me not only to show where the birds’ market is, but also to guide me around. His English is not good, but he is helpful with some words that make us both laugh on various occasions.

There are different kind of birds for various purposes. Myriad canaries and finches are domestic birds, simply popular for their singing. Kowk (fighting partridge) are kept in domed wicker cages, preparing to fight on Friday mornings with spectators gambling on the result. The street is busy with cages hanging on the street or being elegantly organized in small shops.

I wonder, why birds are so popular in Afghanistan. Somebody explains me: “Birds are a reminder of a more peaceful time and a source of music. During the times of wars, fighting, shooting and bombing, it is amazing to return home and listen to the peaceful singing of your birds.”

A neo-Safavid Persian style Saki Shrine is located at the foot of so-called Television Hill, which is entirely inhabited by houses. It is believed that the shrine marks the spot where the cloak of Muhammad was kept on its way to its present location in the Shrine of the Cloak in Kandahar.

The mosque was built in the 18^th century, but four additional domes were added during renovations, which took place between 2008 and 2016. It is known for its intricate tilework and calligraphy.

The mosque is a popular pilgrimage site for Shia Muslims, frequented by Hazara community, therefore, it is periodically attacked by suicidal bombing. The body search at the entrance is precise, the armed guard checks my permission. I enter the mosque on the left side that is dedicated to male visitors, while women have a separated access on the right side. Due to the early hour, there are only seldom visitors, who pray in peace and don’t pay attention to a foreign visitor. On account of its beauty, location and peaceful environment, Saki mosque is my favorite religious building in Kabul.

The road to Bamiyan is in good condition, offering some of the most scenic views in the last hour of the trip. Elevating slowly from warm Kabul, the temperatures are dropping in the afternoon, when approaching the final destination. Bamiyan main street bazaar offers a complex mix of activities that I enjoy as soon as I arrive. Variety of fruits and the range of vegetables is even wider than observed in Kabul. Especially outstanding are enormous cauliflowers perfectly accommodated on vending stands or wheelbarrows. Food stalls and juice masters are exchanging with smoking BBQs and grocery stores, that all seem to offer similar products.

Even though a wide range of vegetables are available on the market, restaurants sell exclusively meat and chicken-based dishes. I don’t have a proper meal in Bamiyan during my whole stay. Somehow, I compensate the lack of proteins with fruits and Afghan bolani sandwiches – simple dough filled with mashed potatoes and green onions. Freshly deep fried are offered for 0.15 US$ on every corner throughout the day and served with red chilly sauce. Filling, inexpensive and fatty.

The main reason to spend time in Bamiyan is to pay a visit to two 6^th century monumental statues carved into the side of a cliff in the Bamiyan valley.

I walk along the mountain range, where the famous Buddha sculptures used to stand. I sadly think, why on orders from the Taliban founder, Mullah Omar, the statues were destroyed in March 2001, after the Taliban government declared that they were idols.

International, local and any logical opinion strongly condemned the destruction of the Buddhas. The enormous size of both huge holes is visible from a long distance. The smaller 38-meters high Eastern Buddha was built around 570 CE, and the larger 55 meters tall Western Buddha was built around 618 CE, which would date both to the time when the Hephthalites ruled the region. Before being blown up in 2001, they were the largest examples of standing Buddha carvings in the world.

Technically, both Buddhas were reliefs: at the rear, they each merged into the cliff wall. The main bodies were hewn directly from the sandstone cliffs, but details were modeled in mud mixed with straw, coated with stucco and painted to enhance the expressions of the faces, hands and robes. The red paint on the larger one and multiple colors on the smaller Buddha were gone a long time before the Taliban’s atrocity.

This holy site for Buddhists on the ancient Silk Road is magic in the early morning, even after the destruction. The Buddhas holes are surrounded by numerous caves and surfaces decorated with paintings. In town, people are starting their daily activities, going to the market, working at the fields, driving here and there, leading sheep to pasture or just wandering around. The only people missing are the Taliban, who these days guard the main tourist attraction in town. What an irony! First you blow up the Buddhas to later guard the destroyed sites and charge entrance fee!

I return back to my hotel for breakfast, which is always included in the price, even at simple guesthouses in Afghanistan. Two employees of national electrical company invite me to join them at their table, offer me local honey and share stories from their work.

Local power plants can supply only a small part of the energy needed by the community and the electrical grid system does not transfer enough power for the normal functioning of the town. Constant power outages are part of everyday life. In the past, it was somehow easier to work with the help of international organizations, which provided technical help and materials that are no longer available these days.

In the evening, I meet a crazy Spanish guy, Joaquin. It is getting cold in the evening and it is apparently the last night before stoves would be installed to the hotel rooms. Instead of freezing in cold rooms without stable wi-fi connection, we join a security guard and his assistant in their small shelter that was pleasantly warmed by a Turkish stove, loaded with wood and charcoal. During a long conversation we drink tea, eat dinner and fruits. One of the guys is engaged and according to him, he needs to save 10,000.00 US$ to get married with his cousin.

Almost an impossible task, considering his monthly salary of 150.00 US$, that is partially reduced to cover expenses of his family at home. We analyze all legal and illegal options to collect money within reasonable amount of time (a few years). The Spanish guy was full of funny ideas, but at the end the only reasonable option seems to be working with tourists, offering them extra activities, guiding, advices and sell some souvenirs.

The national park of Band-e Amir is the most famous natural landmark of Afghanistan; the first national park to promote and protect the natural beauty of a series of six intensely blue lakes, created by natural dams, in the mountainous desert of central Afghanistan. Since there are no other backpackers in town, I must hire the whole taxi for myself. After short, but though negotiations, I agree on rental conditions. The driver is cordial and humble, but doesn’t speak almost any English.

The communication during one-and-a-half-hour drive is limited to basic words: “Slow down, stop, photo, how much, … and family members!” But he does the job faultlessly; his rundown Toyota Corolla bring us to the magic lakes without any inconvenience.

We stop at the viewpoint on the top of the hill, overviewing the second lake, with fantastic bare mountains range in the backside, exchanging colors and reflection in the water surface, bathed in midday sun. Band-e Amir is one of the few rare natural lakes in the world which are created by travertine systems. The lakes were formed from mineral-rich water that seeped out of faults and cracks in the rocky landscape. Over time, the water deposited layers of hardened mineral (travertine) that built up into walls that now contain the water.

This oasis of peace is known for employing the first-ever female park rangers in this conservative country and attracting thousands of visitors until 2018. With the return of the Taliban, the priorities changed to the extreme that in August 2023, the Taliban officially banned women from entering the park, alleging that women had not been properly wearing hijab.

As in many other places around Afghanistan, there seem to be many exceptions or not obeying of the rules. Among infrequent visitors I spot families with children and women. Some of them quite liberally dressed for strict local laws.

Swan peddle boats available for rent are not appropriate as they could ruin the natural environment and I don’t think they offer any better view of the area. The water is supposed to cure from certain skin diseases, but it is too cold for me to jump in.

Instead of continuing overland from Bamiyan to Herat through poorly connected mountainous area, I return to Kabul, spend another day exploring the capital and the next morning take a comfortable hour and a half flight to Herat. First impressions of this oasis city that has been known as a regional hub since the times of Silk Road are positive: hassle free negotiations for a taxi to downtown, a lot of movement along the main road, brilliant lightning, a jungle of street vendors and somehow clean neighborhoods.

Herat is only an hour drive from Iranian border, therefore the impact of the language, commerce and connections is logical. There are two main reasons why I arrived to this important center of arts sciences, calligraphy, astronomy, mathematics and philosophy: The Great Mosque and the recent earthquakes that struck villages around the city.

Due to other important disasters around the world at the time, Afghan earthquake was in the news only for two weeks; the coverage was poor. In view of the fact that the Taliban government is internationally unrecognized, foreign aid is officially not allowed in the country. The physical consequences of the earthquake are not visible in the city of Herat, but I spot hundreds of tents around the urban area, where families live in very basic conditions.

Temporary lodgings are scattered in front of the central mosque, in open suburb areas, parks, around the citadel and many other open areas, where people could feel safe. However, there is order, kids are playing, no-one is begging for money or food. It seems that nourishment is provided and people are calm.

I hire a reliable taxi driver through the hotel reception. Qader is an ideal driver: honest, knowledgeable about the area, English speaking due to cooperation with Americans during occupation, calm and easy going. “You will pay me 3,000 Afghan rupees. I will take you to the villages and show you around. If it is too much for you, you can pay me whatever amount you want. You are my guest in Afghanistan.”

40.00 US$ is a lot of money, but I am aware of the remoteness of the area, bad road connections and the time that we would need to reach the villages. I don´t negotiate the price anymore. We first drive 30 kilometers north of the city on tarmac road and then another 30 kilometers on gravel road, cross rivers and car tracks, full of dust, that occasionally disappear. As soon as we enter the first village, I notice a complete devastation, caused by a rather modest quake that destroyed absolutely all mud structures.

Pieces of mud bricks, segments of compact soil, wood and scarce other objects, are completely useless. There is nothing to repair, refurbish or reuse. Residents moved to the outskirt, where tents were set up, basic latrines installed, water with sink and portable showers put in place. During my visit people stay mostly inside tents, some approach me to start conversation.

The main stroke, measuring 6.3 Richter scale, hit the area at 11:13 am on 7^th October 2023. In a question of seconds most of the homes were gone. Thirty minutes later the second wave finished the job; many aftershocks were not that strong any more.

People don’t remember previous earthquakes in the past, neither didn’t hear from parents or grandparents talking about natural disasters.

Residents are calm, standing upright, receiving warm clothes and blankets as part of international and local aid. The winter is approaching, they have no other place to go. Fortunately, not that many people died; total estimated casualties are 1,500. The new cemetery was erected two hundred meters away. A plan for new neighborhood is drawn, first materials delivered. Completely new houses will be built, hopefully with superior construction methods, more resistant to natural disasters.

I find a similar destruction in other two villages that I visit. Some international help arrived and first replacement houses started to be built. Indeed, iron bars, sand, cement and proper bricks are used to reduce the risk in case the earth tremor repeats.

Thrust faulting was also associated with these earthquakes. A group of livestock farmers guide me to the area, where apparently long ditches opened in the ground during the time when the earth was shaking and water started to bubble to the surface. Small scratches are still visible, but the land is dry again.

The legendary travelling from Herat to Mazar-I-Sharif (730 kilometers) lasts two days with an overnight stay in Maymana. After I get the last available seat in a Toyota Landcruiser, we are ready to kick off from a busy parking lot in Eastern outskirts of Herat at 10:00am. A mature Muslim devote and myself are squeezing in the passenger seat next to a young driver, while in the back of the car there are 4 completely covered women, a man and 6 children – members of the same family.

After two kilometers, I realize that I would not be able to seat in the middle of the front row, therefore I require a change of position to enjoy the less uncomfortable half of the seat next to the window. It takes some time to negotiate in Slovenian, English, Farsi and other languages, before my co-passenger accepts the fact that he is smaller. Therefore, it is his turn to uncomfortably fit into the unbearable central position.

For the next twelve hours we tour mostly macadam roads with areas of dunes of soft sand and dust, where we move at a speed of only a few kilometers per hour. Alternative sections of asphalt are rare. Poor roadside villages built of mud houses with flat or half-round oval roofs reflect the misery and poverty in which the local residents live. In some areas, which are completely bare, without a tree, bush or grass, goats or sheep graze. I often wonder, how people can even survive here and what they do for a living. In principle, their daily bread is agriculture and animal husbandry.

At the beginning of November, most of the riverbeds are completely dry. The flat surface, covered with plowed land, give the impression that agriculture is practiced here during the summer months.

In the late afternoon, we stop for lunch in a larger settlement. As I watch butchers shearing the sheep and a cook in the neglected kitchen, I quickly feel the need to enjoy a warm meal. Soon a serious man with a long beard approaches me and asks for my passport.

I think he is a Taliban, but I am not convinced, because the long-bearded men are very similar to each other. After a few minutes of haggling, each in their own language, I show him my passport.

He looks at it for a while, but I know that he doesn’t find what he wants. When I present him my permit from the Ministry of Tourism from Kabul, he reads it in full, thanks me kindly, returns the documents and wishes me a happy journey.

We arrive to Maymana at 10:00pm. Since I don’t have any idea of where to stay, I ask the driver to help me finding a place to spend the night. I end up in a restaurant that offers private dining rooms as sleeping chambers overnight. A basic mattress, coverlet and pillow are adjoined by a set of kettles, tea cups, sugar and spices. A single toilet is shared with a group of other passengers from the Landcruiser, who settle down in the other room. I am neither hungry, nor worried about discomfort. Delicious green tea is accompanied by some dry fruits from my pocket. After a short conversation with a waiter, I brush my teeth and fall asleep immediately.

The rest of the trip from Maymana to Herat is a piece of cake. I don’t repeat the mistake from the previous day of sharing a seat with another person. I immediately pay for two people to enjoy the comfort of a passenger seat in front of the Toyota Corolla by myself. Good asphalted road is leading through less hostile landscape.

Despite the simple houses made of mud, numerous electric poles with cables make it clear that life in this part is easier, rivers are waterier, the fields are larger and their cultivation is more developed. Fruit trees are slowly changing the landscape and we are crossing checkpoints one after another. Only on one occasion I am asked to show the documents, take a picture and exchange a few words.

The fourth largest city in Afghanistan is the regional hub of the northern region, located in close proximity to both Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, with a very dramatic recent history. During the 1980s Soviet–Afghan War, Mazar-I-Sharif was a strategic base for the Soviet Army, as they used its airport to launch air strikes on mujahideen rebels. From 1992 to 1997 the city became the de-facto capital of a relatively stable and secular independent province in northern Afghanistan under the rule of a mayor army commander, Abdul Rashid Dostum.

The city remained peaceful and prosperous while rest of the nation disintegrated and was slowly taken over by fundamentalist Taliban forces until, in 1997, thousands of Taliban members were killed by slaughtering as a revenge for the 1995 death of ethnic Hazara politician and leader Abdul Ali Mazari. The Taliban retaliated in 1998 attacking the city and killing an estimated 8,000 non-combatants in the most brutal form imaginable. Following the September 11 attacks in 2001, Mazar-I-Sharif was the first Afghan city to fall to the U.S. backed Northern Alliance.

The modern city of Mazar-I-Sharif is centered around The Blue Mosque, also known as The Shrine of Hazrat Ali, the fourth caliph of Islam and the son-in-law of Prophet Muhammad. The shrine holds great historical and religious significance for the Afghan people.

The architectural masterpiece with its majestic turquoise dome and intricate blue tile work, which gives it its famous name, was built in the 15^th century and has since become an important pilgrimage site for Muslims from around the world and rare tourists that visit the area.

“Are you a Muslim?”, an old man sitting on the ground inside the mosque asks me in a polite way.  “If not, you are not allowed to visit the tomb of Hazrat Ali, but you can walk around the mosque freely. “

And that’s what I do. The colors, architectural details, the perfect maintenance and the mix of people that come to admire the mosque, take selfies, sit around, pray or stop by the tomb inside, completely impress me. The Shrine of Hazrat Ali easily qualifies as one of the top 5 mosques that I have seen in the whole world.

Food in Afghanistan is for my personal taste better than in neighboring Pakistan. I present this opinion from a vegetarian standpoint, which could be slightly biased considering the fact that most of Afghani cuisine is based on meat, mostly sheep and chicken.

Kebab sticks are always ready to be smoked on the BBQ. Pieces of meat are exhibited at markets, street stalls and special sections of restaurants, where butchers comfortably seat on the chairs and cut meat in a very professional way. It is not easy to get a meal without meat, but I often compensate it with delicious juices or shakes available for less than a dollar at numerous stands in any Afghan city or town.

I am disappointed with the small number of staples, at the expense of extremely popular flat bread that is offered in numerous bakeries at every corner, sometimes seasoned with nigella black seeds. Inexpensive, warm Noni Afghaniin in variety of sizes and shapes are practical for breakfast, lunch or dinner, but not the healthiest way to fill the stomach on a permanent basis. Rice can be found on rare occasions in upscale restaurants, corn is offered at vendor stalls, usually overcooked or overtoasted. Very popular french-fries are sold everywhere at any time, even early in the morning.

The national dish of Afghanistan is Qabili Palau, a rice dish cooked with raisins, carrots, nuts and lamb or beef. The ingredients are prepared in the morning and later slowly cooked in big bowls, that are especially popular in Herat.

The most important part of making delicious Qabili Palau is to keep the white rice from breaking, while it develops a deep rich brown color in the multi-step cooking process. Yes, even though the rice in the final meal is brown, as ingredient only white rice is used.

I only got in contact with Afghani men, who are friendly, helpful, honest, interested in my origins, but most of them hardly speak any English. Fortunately, there is always someone, who can bring out basic knowledge of foreign language, willing to help or find the solution. Women move around covered in burkas, some of them completely disguising their faces with famous blue or turquoise chadors, inaccessible to male population, if not part of the family.

I have never felt unsafe, insecure or scared, even when traveling in remote areas, walking around the cities at night or approaching numerous checkpoints. I met two foreign backpackers; no other foreigners were noticed.

There are plenty of prohibitions or restrictions that would be considered violations of common human rights around the globe, but those are not easy to implement, even more complicated to supervise. Lack of music, education, women presence and general oppression cause not only demotivation, humiliation or dissatisfaction, but also poverty in the country which has been afflicted with so many calamities.

I haven’t seen many beggars, people starving or incapable of surviving. Actually, the situation is probably better than in some other third world countries, even though currently Afghanistan officially doesn’t receive any international support. Especially in the cities, people struggle through the day working, looking for income and pushing forward, rather than expecting help from international community.

The current government has a historic opportunity to lead the country to better future. It seems that there is no serious enemy that wants to fight against them. Even their current military forces of young guys have not been in a real war yet. Young soldiers prefer taking selfies, posing with guns and navigating social medias rather than hiding in shelters or fighting in inhospitable, harsh environments. Most of them are not educated, easily manipulated and guided to fulfill top leaders’ orders.

Keeping Afghan people scared, restricted, powerless, uneducated and unhappy is definitely not the way to implement a better future.

However, the situation can change quickly. It’s Afghanistan, you never know what it is going to happen.

Afghanistan is a unique country in Central Asia that has been continuously perturbated by war for the last 4 decades. Even though it seems to be peaceful these days, there are other reasons to believe that this territory should not be defined as a travel destination. But still, after a profound analysis, I decided to visit some important cities, traveled overland through remote areas, where I explored some of the natural beauties and historic sites.

All in all, a great experience without any hassle, if you follow the rules, dress properly, show respect to the current government and get all the permits needed at the Ministry of tourism regional offices. Logistic is easy, accommodation always within easy reach, food predominantly based on meat, plenty of fruits or vegetables available. Natural juices for a few cents are delicious, pomegranates the most flavorsome in the world.

What is the main reason for the country to be in such a desperate position between wars, conflicts, poverty, restrictions and suffering? Ethnical diversity, religion, interests of the USA, strategic geographical position or desert landscape that offers limited resources to survive?

Everybody can make his own judgement and blame others or nature for incapacity of the nation to progress. I have my opinion, also based on the other countries in the wider region, that have not been blessed with oil reserves and prioritize a particular religion as the highest value in the society, dictating all other aspects of life: education, work, marriages, family relations, entertainment, art, politics, economy, etc.