The kite runners of Kabul

Friday. This was the day I would see a few of the sights around Kabul. And since Friday is day off in Afghanistan, people would be gathering at two sites I wanted to visit. The Bagh Babur park and the Wasir Abkhar Khan hill. In addition, I wanted to visit the Darulaman palace. An old ruin that the government now has decided should be renovated to its old glory.
My host gave me three options. They would give me small notes with my destinations written on them in Dari, and I would go on my own. I could have a guy follow me around. Or he could get a car to take me everywhere. After thinking long and hard, I decided on the first option. A first for me.
I got three notes in both dari and english. A destination and a price. Higher than normal so I didn't have to haggle. After spending 4 days just to learn the word for "thank you" in dari (tashakor), I gave up trying to learn any longer sentences and expressions.
The first destination, Bagh Babur park was just 20 minutes walk away, so walk I did. It was fairly easy to find. A long queue had formed at the entrance. A lot of people like to go to the park to picnic and for the children to play. I got into the line. With my growing beard and my pakul I was hoping I was starting to blend in. But when I arrived at the ticket counter, he waved me off and called for another guy. As a foreigner, I had to pay more, especially if I wanted to take a camera. Still does not blend in. Is it the smell? Is it the glasses? The fat belly? Maybe I am making fashion choices that tell I'm a tourist? Dunno. Anywho, after the usual patdown and checking of my bag, I was let into the park. It was a big park, and was designed so that people could have picnic in the shade of trees. A serene and beautiful place. I was trying not to draw too much attention to myself, at the same time as I wanted to take pictures of ordinary life in Kabul. For all the dangers, it was wonderful to see kids playing, laughing and screaming like they do anywhere else. Families enjoying a meal in the pleasant weather. People dancing to music. Small shops selling snacks and drinks. A place and a scene that could have been anywhere else in the world.

Men dancing as a band plays

Next stop : Darulaman palace. My host had already warned me that there would be guards present, since the government has decided to restore the palace. So I might not get a close-up photo. But I wanted to see if I could use my most innocent eyes to gain sympathy and access to the site anyway.
I left the park and walked to the main street, armed with my first note. A taxi with a sleeping driver was the first I encountered. I knocked on the window, he woke up, and I showed him the note. He looked at it, opened the door, and walked over to a couple of teens walking by. They read the note to him. He thanked them, nodded to me in agreement, and we were off. Illiterate driver. Interesting. He zoomed me to the palace, or more precisely, the guarded entrance. The site had tall walls around it all now. A guard approached the car, and the driver said something that I interpret at "tourist". The guard looked at me, and I showed the international sign for taking photos, and smiled as best I could. His facial expression told me he wasn't impressed. He waved his finger. No way Mr Tourist. I nodded and agreed. Paid the driver and left the taxi. I wanted to walk back the road until I could see the palace from down the road. After a few hundred meters, I was able to shoot the whole palace ruins. But I checked around to see if anybody was watching. On the other side of the road, was a huge millitary base. Not the place you want to be seen with a camera...

A few days ago, I wasn't sure it was safe to show my face on the streets anywhere in Kabul. Now I was walking down the street like anywhere else in the world. It felt good. Some boys where playing tricks with their bikes. And older boys with their motorcycles. Two guys riding on the back wheel at breakneck speed. In the wrong lane. Without helmets. Guess boys will be boys...
I walked about half an hour backtracking my taxi ride. I enjoyed the chance to see people in the streets doing ordinary things. Buying groceries. Getting into taxies. Sitting watching life. The usual stuff. But the sun and the heat was getting too much for a cold-adapted guy like me, so in the end I had to throw in the towel and try to find a ride to my final destination.
But for some reason, several taxi-drivers refused to take me. I asked one after the other, and all waved me off. I didn't know if it was the price or the destination. But in the end, an older guy nodded and I got in. He drove off, and after a while I recognized the surroundings. The Sha-do Shamshira mosque. The markets etc. And I recalled the map of my destination. We were on the right track at least. But then he started asking me questions and pointing left and right. I had no idea, so I just showed him that I didn't know. But in the end, we arrived at the bottom of the steep climb up the hill to Wasir Abkhar Khan. After struggling to climb the first 100 metres, we hit a traffic jam. And after waiting for a little while, I said "tashakor" and paid him and left the taxi. I wanted to climb the hill myself.
But I keep forgetting we are not at sea level. And that I am not in great shape. So halfway up, I was gasping for air. My heart pumping like crazy, and some boys pointing at me and laughing. The fat tourist who cannot even climb a small hill. Oh well. I made it in the end, but my body was sweaty, my mouth tasted blood and I had to get something to drink. I bought a bottle of water and gulped it all down. After I had caught my breath, I could start to enjoy the place. According to my host, kabulians love kites. Both kids and adults enjoy flying them. And this was the place where they would go to fly them. The place was packed with kids and adults, kite sellers and on-lookers. Even fellow photographers. It was comforting to know I wasn't the only one sporting a tele-zoom in the area.
One thing about the flying was that if someone snapped their wire, the kite falling down was fair game for anyone. And kids and teens would run screaming after it to try to catch it first.
It was a beautiful sight to see the true joy in people's faces both for the kite owners and the on-lookers. A truly enjoyable place.

Kids fighting to reach a falling kite. The winner was the guy jumping the highest.

Even teens were in on the game, running after kites.

As the sun was setting, I took a few photos of Kabul from the hill. And then decended down again.

Ice cream seller with the characteristic cart, playing "Happy birthday to you"

I had one note left. Telling the driver to take me to the closest police station from the apartment bulding. I found a taxi driver who had absolutely no idea where I was going. But after asking several people, he had the general direction. And after a while, I started recognizing the area. And he was about to drive past my street, when I recognized a mosque. I told the driver to just drop me off there. I paid him and got out. I got the advice from my host to never get off outside the bulding. Get off somewhere near and walk from there. So this was the perfect ending for me. I walked the few hundred meters to the place I had gotten the great burger the first night. And I got another. Before walking back to the apartment building. Enjoying the burger while chewing on the experiences of the day. I could only smile.

Ragnar
Amateur kabulian