Into the blue

I glinted. The room was partially lit. The aircon wooshed loudly. I looked at the phone. 6 something in the morning. I didn't go to sleep until midnight. Again. Arriving late yesterday, I spent the evening in my room. Nothing to do at the hotel. At least not that I cared about. I buried my head in the pillow. Hoping to get some more naps before I got up. But in the end, I gave up. A guy showed up at my door yesterday to take my breakfast order. And I had said 8. It was nearly 8. Eat first, shower later. A light tapping on the door. I opened up, and outside was a guy holding a tray with my breakfast. An omelet, afghan bread (delicious), some honey and jam, and a big pot of tea. After spreading it out on the table in my room, he bowed and left. I sat eating for almost an hour. Just enjoying the omlet and bread. Time to try out the rainfall shower in the bathroom. I loooove long showers when I have the time. And I did.
After a long and refreshing shower I decided it was time for me to check security for getting to the blue mosque. The main attraction here in Mazar. I took the elevator down, enjoying the view of the street outside. As usual, nobody at the reception. After some searching, they found a guy. Who didn't speak any english. So he went to get another guy, who spoke enough english to understand that I wanted to go to the blue mosque.
"Is it safe walking to Blue Mosque?"
"You want to go Blue Mosque?"
"Yes."
"No problem! It safe!"
"For me to walk?"
"Yeeeees. I get you car."
"No, I want to walk. Is it safe for me to walk?"
"Yes. Let me talk to manager!"
On the phone with the manager for a few minutes. And suddenly the first guy comes.
"Come with me!"
"Errrr...Ok?"
I followed him to an elevator. Expecting him to take me out the back to lure any bad guys waiting at the front. Down we went. And into the garage.
"Here, car!" He said and opened the door for me. I thought "Whatever" as he got in the back seat. After a few more minutes, a driver showed up. And up we went through several secure points before we entered the street through a thick metal door with an armed guard watching the surroundings. I felt like the president for a while. Didn't know if the car was bulletproof, but it might as well have been...
Since the mosque was just a couple of blocks away, it probably took more time to organize the driving and the driving than if I had walked. But I guess they were trying to protect me. And it was OK to have somebody there with me to teach me the do's and don'ts at the mosque. So I didn't do all the stupid tourist things.
The mosque was simply beautiful. Colors, texture of the marble ground. And the atmosphere was magnificent. My "guide" told me that the mosque was used by people from all over the region. And people would come there and hang out. Kids would play, and they would have football matches there. The area around the mosque had pools, recreational areas, juice and icecream stands and walkpaths. We spent almost 2 hours there. Wandering around. Taking images and taking in the atmosphere of the place. I wasn't too sure how I, as a foreigner would be welcomed. But most people either ignored me, or greeted me with "salaam". "Everyone is welcome here" my guide told me. He was a practicing muslim himself, and often came to the mosque.
Below is a sample of the images I took. They do not do any credit to the beauty of the place, unfortunately. But give an impression. Hopefully. For those of you who will never see it with your own eyes.

Inside this area, people threw money and clothes at new years as gifts and alms.

Marble tiles of the floor.

My guide bought me a delicious orange juice. Freshly made.

Kids chasing doves in the area surrounding the mosque

I was hungry at this point, and also felt the need to treat my guide to a dinner for his help and explanations. And for walking around with me in the heat in a suit... He wasn't supposed to be outside. He was dressed for hotel work. I wanted to try some more kababs and asked for a recommendation. He suggested the best kabab-restaurant in town. Mansoor Restaurant. The place was crawling with SUVs, so it was obvious that it was best in town. We found a table, and sat down. My guide ordered food. And the kababs were even better here.

Afghan bread. Yum!

Different types of kababs

YUMMI!

Around us were several VIPs with their own bodyguards. Complete with AK-47s. Felt a bit weird sitting there watching them. They sat there beside their bosses. With their rifles between their legs. Waiting patiently while their boss ate either alone or with friends or colleagues.
After the meal, I wanted to pay (he even offered to pay this too, but I politely refused), but I felt a little bit nervous I would not have enough money on me. I hand't really planned to eat out with a guide, so I only brough 1000 affs. The bill arrived, and my guide translated. 980 affs. I smiled, and gave the waiter the 1000. He returned with a 20. I waved him off. A little tip for him. I sighed in relief. No embarrasment there.

The rest of the day, I spent at the hotel, writing my blog, chatting with friends and burning the fat. I had planned to try to take a trip outside of Mazar to see some more, but I was afraid to ask, in case they would order my guide to join me for another trip...

Ragnar
Out of the blue

All by myself

After the tour of the historic Kabul, we got a taxi to take me to the airport. I was heading out of my safe space. Going to Mazar-e Sharif. An hour flight north of Kabul. I would go there on my own. Without anything booked. No taxi waiting for me or hotel booked. Just show up at the airport and hope I didn't end up in a taxi with a Taliban sympathizer driving me straight home to the local lair. I had a recommendation from my host in Kabul about a hotel. He said there shouldn't be a problem getting a room. I was hoping he was right.
Before going to Afghanistan, I was thinking about going to more than just Kabul, and the choice in my mind was between Herat in the west, and Mazar-e Sharif to the north. After a little bit of eeny-meeny, I landed on Mazar. My host arranged for the plane tickets.
When finally having navigated the Kabul traffic, we had to go through several checkpoints where I had a pat-down by a guard. And my bags scanned and checked. As an obvious westener, the check looked less thorough than on most others. They patted me down and just barely looked at my bag. I guess I looked too innocent...
The domestic terminal was small to say the least. It had a few checkin-counters. And only one gate. And so I waited. And waited. And waited. My flight was supposed to leave at 6pm. They called out Herat, and all the Herat people left. And still no sign of the Mazar-flight. Many more planes landed. And I started noticing a lot of guys with guns around. And dogs. And a lot of army choppers circling around Kabul.
I struck a short convo with a South African guy. He said that there was some VIP expected, so hence the extra security. And possibly also our delay. He revealed that he was working in a security company that was securing the american troops in Afghanistan. "Say again? The american troops needs defending? I am sorry, but that sounds a bit weird." He laughed. "Yes, I know. But we do handle their security."
The delay dragged on. I had a window seat for this flight, and was hoping to get a good view of the sunset. But the sun set and still no boarding. Soon the skies became dark. And finally, the bus arrived to take us to the plane. We were few passengers. Maybe 30-40. The plane was an older model 737. Probably ex-russian by the looks of the instructions on the seats. The plane accellerated fast on the tarmac, and we were pushed to our seats as it blasted into the skies. I filmed out the window the lights of Kabul as we spiraled upwards before setting the course for Mazar. I looked out the window at the stars, and then I saw the constellation of Orion. I wanted to take a photo, but just as I was ready, they switched on the lights again in the plane, and star imaging went from hard to impossible.
I looked out and tried to see some lights from below, but it was complete and utter darkness. Nothing. Not even a bonfire. The Moon above was the only light I could see. And it was almost directly above. Reflecting off the wing outside.

One thing I didn't expect on this flight : Food! Cold potato chips with cold something deep fried. It tasted like leftovers from the day after a party. Literally. So it probably was. But the non-flavored yoghurt, the bun and the minute-maid was nice. So it was filling. At least good to have something in my stomach before decending on Mazar. Again decending meaning skydiving... I don't know if this was for security or if the pilots just wanted to pretend they were "top-gun" pilots. In which case, I guess I should be thankful they didn't do a loop...
After landing the place taxied to the terminal. A modern terminal built by the Germans. We disembarked and walked across the tarmac to the entrance. I walked straight to the bathroom. Needed to go before starting the search for a taxi. I met mr Security guy again. Asked him for advice on hotel in town. He shook his head. "I'm staying on the base. But have a safe trip. Nice talking to you!" I said goodbye to him and walked out of the terminal. Many guards stood there chatting and laughing. My host had said that I needed to walk quite a bit to get to the taxis. But I wasn't sure which way. So I asked in a "stupid-tourist-who-cannot-even-plan-ahead"-manner "Taxi?". He looked at me, and tried to wave his hands in the direction I was supposed to go. I gave him the "stupid..."-etc. You all get the idea. He started walking and waved me to come with him. After asking several guys stading there looking at "mr stupid tourist" if they where taxis, he finally landed one guy in a private car about to leave. "Taxi?" I asked. He nodded and smiled. Not a taxi. More like the local version of an Uber. On the spot decision to change from guy going home from work, to taxi-driver making money on the way home. I got in, and said the name of the hotel. I had practiced pronouncing the name the whole way. It contained a sound that was a mix between clearing your throat and an "R". I got it right on first attempt. And he blasted off into the night. I looked at his speedometer, and it said 100. I thought "Ok, not too bad". But then I realized it was an american car. Sooo. Miles per hour.
He started asking me the usual. Where I was from, what was I doing, was this the first time in Maraz. And I asked him if he had any education.
"Yes, I'm student!"
"Great! What do you study?"
"Ah...Two years I study!"
"Ah. Ok. But what do you study?"
"Ah. Yes!"
Silence.
"How long till you finish?"
"Aaaaaa. Two!"
"Years?"
"No hours!"
"Two hours?"
"Yeeees. Then I go home!"
Silence while I tried to understand where this convo had gone.
"Are you finished studying in two hours?"
"Yes! I work at airport, then drive taxi, and two hours I go home!"
Aaaa. Back on track. Classic case of lost in translation.
Some hairy driving and a lot of incomprehensible exchange of words later, we arrived at the hotel. It looked like the entrance to a military base. A metal wall with a metal door and a guy with an AK-47 outside.
"Here! Your hotel!" my driver said with a smile. I looked out of the window.
"This? It looks like a trashcan with security." From the description my host in Kabul had given, I expected a luxury hotel. But he insisted. I stepped out of the car, and brought my bag. The driver talked to the guard outside. And he looked at me with suspicion. Then he knocked on the door, and another guard looked through a small peep-hole. After a few back and forth arguments, he opened the door. I had to go through another pat-down, and he insisted on looking through my bag. He wasn't satisfied. My driver said "show him your gun! He wants to see your gun!". "My what?? I don't have a gun!" He explained this to the guard who didn't seem quite ready to believe it. But after looking at me for a few seconds, he nodded me to step inside the hotel.
Inside the lobby was a totally different story. This looked more like luxury hotel. And secure. I counted 12 security cameras in the lobby alone. But when looking around, I saw a spot of problem. The entrance had guards, double steel doors and metal detectors. But right beside it, was a window where one could see the street. So unless it was armored glass, the steel doors wouldn't do much good.
They looked around for a receptionist. Luckily, the one they found, spoke english quite well. They had rooms. I registered and he took me into a beautiful golden elevator (that I the day after realized was a glass elevator. Meaning that I could see the street below when ascending to my floor). And then to my room. He opened the door and, this does not happen often, my jaws dropped. The room was gigantic! More like a suite. With a reception area, work station, several closets, huge bathroom and even a full kitchen. And with a view of the city and the Blue Mosque. I even said "WOW!" out loud and commented on the size. "Ah. Thank you sir!" he said politely and smiled while touching his heart, like they do here. I had so much floor space that I didn't know how to use it all. Loved it. It was late in the evening, so I didn't want to venture outside. I made some tea with the water-heater and just enjoyed myself while chatting with friends around the globe before falling asleep around midnight. Tomorrow was another day.

 

Behind the door is my kitchen and bathroom

Ragnar
Doing all my own stunts

Past and present

I woke early. The sun was up. And I had to go... My first night in Kabul. No panic. No fear. Just...had to go... So I went, and got back into bed. The phone said just after 6 am. I had been lying awake till almost midnight chatting online. Felt like my body was still on Norway time. After all, it is only 2.5 hours away. Afghanistan is on the 1/2 hour timezone for some reason.
Anyways. The internet connection was down. As was the power. As usual. So I didn't have anything to do but try to sleep some more. But the noise from the traffic outside, and the excitement of being here, kept me awake. I hadn't really planned anything for the day, but I talked to my host previous afternoon about a guided tour of the historic district.
When he woke up, I talked to him and he arranged for me to go with a colleague of his. I had a quick breakfast consisting of delicious afghan bread with queen jelly honey. And some orange juice. Breakfast for champions.
Our tour consisted of five stops. Shah-do Shamshira mosque, Mandowi market, the bird market (Kah Furoshi), Murad Khani (the original buildings of Kabul) and Bala Hissar (an old fortress). We would walk most of the road. Which suited me fine. I like walking. It gives me a better look and feel of a place. And I love markets. That is the place where most people go. So you meet all kinds.
They are normally messy, hot, smelly and packed with people, carts, and noise!
My host gave some instructions on how to stay safe. Always move. Never stop anywhere more than 15 minutes (it takes time for locals sympathetic to Taliban to decide any action and set things in motion). Never publish your destination to the taxi-driver. Only make him drop you off at a street close by and walk from there to your destination. Watch young men and boys. Especially in a group. So I was ready for street-life of Kabul.

First stop, Sha-do Shamshira mosque. Built under Amānullāh Khān, the first king who tried to modernize Afghanistan after western design, after the last Anglo-Afghan war. When Afghanistan freed itself from british influence. I wanted to take a lot of pictures, but the area was packed with honking cars, and loads of people going to and fro. My host had already warned me of kids and young men snatching cell-phones and cameras from people's hands, and I didn't want that to happen. So we walked past it and I found a spot on one side where nobody was. Except a couple of guys sitting on the stairs. The mosque is not in use at the moment. But will be opened again this year. It did look kinda unusual for a mosque. With a more roman style with columns and such.

A little of the chaos surrounding the mosque.

Second stop, the Mandowi market. Like the markets I have been to many places on the globe. Packed with everything from spices to the latest fashion. I love it. I tried taking some images, but I am also weary at markets since not everyone likes it. So I shot a few images here and there while walking. And I see that there are two reactions I get when people see me. Most ignore me, some take a note of the "merican", and others stare. And I often heard people talk of "camera". So if it wasn't obvious from my looks, it sure was obvious from my camera that I was not local. And the fact that I walked around like I had never seen a market before.

Love the guy resting in his wheelbarrow on the right...

Third stop, Kah Furoshi, the bird market. As the name suggests, they sell birds there. All kinds of birds. Small and large. We walked through and I could'nt help but be amazed at the variety of both birds and cages. They even had one cage where the owner sat inside the cage. For whatever reason. Maybe he felt the birds would be lonely without him? I snapped a few photos here too. But since the street was so narrow, It made it hard to take any good photos without putting the camera in people's faces. So I started filming instead. From my hip. Holding my camera like I was resting. I watched the video afterwards. It wasn't too bad.
This market has existed for a long time. According to an article I read, the bird market brings distraction and comfort to a war-weary people. Birds are a passion. At the market one can buy birds and bird-feed.

Turkeys, chicken and roosters.

Fourth stop : Murad Khani. This is where one can see some very old buildings and building styles from the old Kabul. It was a maze of closed streets and low ceilings. I did take a few pictures here and there, as my guide led me through. But after far too short a trip, a guy stopped us, smiled and started talking to my guide. At first, it was smiles and laughter. And I knew they where talking about me, because the word "tourist" occured here and there in the convo. But it soon became apparent that the guy didn't like me taking photos. His smile vaned, while my guide tried to keep the discussion on the low. Finally, he sighed, and said "He wants to check your photos.". I said "sure", and showed him the photos I had taken. He was pleased, and shook my hand. "No worry!" he said and waved us goodbye. "He wanted you to kill your photos!" my guide explained later. "Why?" I enquired. He bobbed his head. "He is afraid of...you know...explosion." In other words, he wasn't sure I was just checking the area for a place to attack... Well. This IS Afghanistan. Terror is part of life. So being paranoid is very understandable. Most of the pictures below are in black and white. As I felt it was fitting given the old age of the place.

Detail of the building material. Mud with straw as reinforcement.

I wanted to buy a afghan woolen hat, or pakol as they are called in the native tongue. So my guide took me to a stall where I guy sold different colors. I picked one. 350 afghani or "affs" as they are referred to by expats. About 5 dollar. Not too bad. I was epecting a lot more. Here is a selfie of me sporting my new Afghan look. With my pakol (or "pakul" depending on the source...) and a beard to sport.

Of course. This is not enough to fool the locals into believing I am one of them. Guess there is something "western" about me that I cannot shake off. But I do see less people staring when I walk with this hat. But the caps is definitely a dead giveaway...

Fifth stop, the Bala Hissar fort. From the fifth century AD. Our taxi arrived in front of a heavily guarded gate. My guide got out of the taxi, and started talking to the guards. They shook their heads and it was obvious that his pleeding with "tourist" didn't impress them much. He came back to the car. "It is military area now. They won let us in." We headed back. But then our taxidriver suggested that we could drive around the fort and take pictures of the wall at least. So I did get some pictures.

And then he drove us further. Into the something that resembled more of a suburban area. Maybe not a slum, but definitely not with the creature comforts of the central areas. Up a steep hill where the road was mostly washed out. And kids pushing heavy ice-cream carts up the same hills to sell ice-cream. Here I got to see the wall up close. With the locals as on-lookers. They probably don't see many tourists around those areas. Just the thought of how old these walls are, makes me smile. Too bad I wasn't able to get up close and personal.

The road up the hill

 

The road up the hill from the top

As we drove back to the markets, we drove past a small lake, where the local car-wash obviously was. I snapped some photos from the car as we drove.

At this point, we were getting hungry, and we first walked around in the Murad Khani area. But my guide shook his head and frowned. Nah. Too dirty. He had gotten instructions from my host to make sure I didn't eat something that could potentially make me sick. So we got into a taxi and drove to west Kabul, and found a nice place where we had some of the best lamb kebabs I have ever had. So juicy! So succulent! So tasty! My mouth is running in water just by the thought of it. Served with delicious bread, and a natural yoghurt as dessert. Just an awesome meal! A perfect ending to a wonderful walk through history. Literally.
Tomorrow, I go out of town for a couple of nights. On my own.

Ragnar
Time traveller