I was there in 1970, before the Soviets came, went by bus over the Khyber Pass where we could see an occasional grizzled Afghan in Rock colored clothes pop up with their amazing homemade rifles for a look, then sink down in the rocks again. I assure you that every Afghan women and little girl I saw in Kabul, Kandahar, and Herat was wearing a burqua, and men were ogling them hoping for a flash of ankle. Women and men did not mingle, women kept in groups for protection. Huge central market in Kabul, obviously the end point of all the Goodwill stores of the world. All booths run by men. They had music and a few tape stalls--I think it was the Taliban who took away all music. The local economy was driven by tourism, east and west and the Afghans obliged, politely but aloofly. Too bad if you had a problem, next embassy Tehran. At that time there was a regular bus service (not exactly Greyhound quality!) between Delhi to London, it was always busy and a pretty civilized way to get through. The Americans had built a nice ring road around the country which made this possible--maybe the CIA did it. Guess what, visitors from both west and east were after opium which was plentiful, cheap, and easy to get, along with their gunky hashish which was about $2 for a half pound. This was very dangerous for the people smuggling it back to Europe because if found in Iran or Turkey they would have been summarily shot. Anyway, this was your golden age in Afghanistan, cassette tapes and dead end opium addicts and all the sheep fat on rice you wanted.
Outstanding account! How far did you go by bus? Have you written more about these adventures?
Have you read any Peter Hopkirk's work? The Great Game? Or Kipling? Those men also had a great feel for the pulse of the region.
We went from southern India to New Delhi to Lahore to wherever on the other side of Pakistan by train, missed the right spot by a few miles and had to backtrack to the bus connection by horse cart. That really felt like Kipling, The Phantom Rickshaw movie, clopping along a dusty road in a golden (because of the dust!) dawn. Most of the buses around there were more like our school buses, about 20 to 30 seats. The Bus, the one that made the overland journey to London, used double decker retired red city buses. Too mountainous for trains until Iran. From Herat we took an Irani-run bus to Meshad, and after that a train all across Iran. This was pretty civilized by comparison, as the Shah was still running things and Americans were allies against the Russians on the north. Read Anabasis - The March Up Country by Xenophon on the way and thought about what a soft life we have now. It is mountainous at the western border with Turkey, where we switched briefly back to these death trap buses. Canyons sprinkled with old buses. It's all a lost world now.
I was there in 1970, before the Soviets came, went by bus over the Khyber Pass where we could see an occasional grizzled Afghan in Rock colored clothes pop up with their amazing homemade rifles for a look, then sink down in the rocks again. I assure you that every Afghan women and little girl I saw in Kabul, Kandahar, and Herat was wearing a burqua, and men were ogling them hoping for a flash of ankle. Women and men did not mingle, women kept in groups for protection. Huge central market in Kabul, obviously the end point of all the Goodwill stores of the world. All booths run by men. They had music and a few tape stalls--I think it was the Taliban who took away all music. The local economy was driven by tourism, east and west and the Afghans obliged, politely but aloofly. Too bad if you had a problem, next embassy Tehran. At that time there was a regular bus service (not exactly Greyhound quality!) between Delhi to London, it was always busy and a pretty civilized way to get through. The Americans had built a nice ring road around the country which made this possible--maybe the CIA did it. Guess what, visitors from both west and east were after opium which was plentiful, cheap, and easy to get, along with their gunky hashish which was about $2 for a half pound. This was very dangerous for the people smuggling it back to Europe because if found in Iran or Turkey they would have been summarily shot. Anyway, this was your golden age in Afghanistan, cassette tapes and dead end opium addicts and all the sheep fat on rice you wanted.
Outstanding account! How far did you go by bus? Have you written more about these adventures?
Have you read any Peter Hopkirk's work? The Great Game? Or Kipling? Those men also had a great feel for the pulse of the region.
We went from southern India to New Delhi to Lahore to wherever on the other side of Pakistan by train, missed the right spot by a few miles and had to backtrack to the bus connection by horse cart. That really felt like Kipling, The Phantom Rickshaw movie, clopping along a dusty road in a golden (because of the dust!) dawn. Most of the buses around there were more like our school buses, about 20 to 30 seats. The Bus, the one that made the overland journey to London, used double decker retired red city buses. Too mountainous for trains until Iran. From Herat we took an Irani-run bus to Meshad, and after that a train all across Iran. This was pretty civilized by comparison, as the Shah was still running things and Americans were allies against the Russians on the north. Read Anabasis - The March Up Country by Xenophon on the way and thought about what a soft life we have now. It is mountainous at the western border with Turkey, where we switched briefly back to these death trap buses. Canyons sprinkled with old buses. It's all a lost world now.