One night in Kabul

Terminal 2, Dubai airport. While the other terminals are design icons, terminal 2 looks like a re-utilized storage building with a few openings here and there. Nothing to write home about. But this is the terminal I flew to Iraq from, and this is the same terminal I am flying to Afghanistan from. FlyDubai is a cheap and reliable option.
Gate F7. There it was. The sign for Kabul. Only one hour to go. I went to the bathroom one last time before it was called. I was surprised at the fact they started boarding 45 minutes ahead of departure. But I soon realized it was necessary. It looked like half the passengers had never ridden anything but local buses, so they seemed to assume that you could sit anywhere you pleased. I had checked in to window seat 7A to try to get som great shots on the flight across Afghanistan. But when I arrived another guy was sitting there. I tried pointing to my ticket and that he was in my seat. He used hand-gesture to say that it was ok for me to sit beside him. I tried once again to point to the seat numbering. But it was obvious that he either didn't care, or didn't understand. So I sat down beside him. It became clear soon enough that half of the passengers had no idea they had assigned seats. So the air hosts had their hands full trying to convince people to move. Which of course meant that they had to pull down all their gear from the overhead lockers and pull it through the cabin. And some refused to listen to the crew. They only spoke to other Afghans. And they had to explain the system to them. So after half an hour of total chaos, the crew gave up, and just let people sit where they could.
The guy in my seat looked like one of them old mujahedins. Thick beard. Worn skin. Big, strong hands that could probably tear your head off without straining a muscle. And just a big ease about him. Like he didn't have a care in the world. I kinda liked having him there. Even if he insisted on putting up his bare feet on his knees. In my face kinda like. Luckily he had better foot hygene than most people. So no stinky.
And we were off. Into the air above Dubai. A little shake rattle and roll later and we were over Afghanistan. Helmand and Kandahar provinces underneath us. Mujahedin was sleeping. Like a big bear with a big roaring snore. It gave me a view throught the window down on the ground. The scenery changed from desert to mountains, to snowcapped alpine landscape. I snapped one photo after another while muja was snoring. Then the captain came on the speakers. We were 20 minutes from landing. Muja woke and sat upright. I excused myself and snapped a photo of Kabul in front of him. Out the window. He looked at my phone and pulled out his own. Slowly. Looked at it for a short while and switched on the camera. Then started filming seemingly aimlessly out the window. And then he filmed himself. Without a single change in his facial expression, he looked into the lens of the camera for about 30 seconds. Then moved the camera towards the window and aimlessly filmed everything outside. I managed to snap some images as we decended into Kabul airport. Click on the images for larger versions.

Kabul in the mist. Kabul airport is barely visibly as a straight line left above center

On the outskirts of Kabul

The muja and his phone

When I say "decended", I mean "dived". I think this is the steepest decent I have ever experienced. Full airbreaks and straight down. Wham onto the tarmac. I guess there is only so much area you can secure around an airport. So you need to dive down into the "green zone" where the insurgents cannot shoot you down. At least, that is the explanation I have in my head...
We disembarked into Kabul airport. The first thing I sighted was a soldier in full armor. With an M-16 or something similar hanging from his shoulders. Welcome to Afghanistan! Passport control was suprisingly efficient. I waited just a few minutes before it was my turn. The guy looked at my passport, checked my visa, stamped it, and a short "welcome to Afghanistan! Have a nice stay!" I was inside. Ready for something out of the ordinary. I felt the same way now as I did when I first landed in Caracas, Venezuela in 1996. On my first ever trip abroad alone. Anticipation mixed with a little fear of the unknown.
Next was baggage claim. I stood there for a while. Looking at the belt. People around me talking, yelling and walking around. Then there was a blackout. And everything stopped. A few muffled voices as we all waited. The the power returned, and the luggage belt started again. Still nothing. Then a guy explained it to me. They first unload cargo, then baggage. So I spent the wait registering. All foreigners must do this upon arrival. Two photos, and fill out a form. Then they fill the info into a card, sign it and stamp it. Then you will have no troubles when leaving. Then back to the luggage belts for another round of waiting. Another power outage. Then back on. More belt action. Before it stopped. No more luggage. Hmmmm. I walked to the beginning of the belt. There it was. My backpack was last. So they stopped the belt once it was inside the luggage area. Nice!
I tore off the plastic wrapping from Dubai and proceeded to the green customs area. A guy was checking all luggage. Little did I know he wasn't checking for contraband, but to see that I wasn't trying to slip out with someone elses baggage. Since I had torn off the plastic with the luggage tags on, I had no proof of ownership. He asked about this, and I said "plastic wrapping. Garbage!" and pointed towards a garbage bin. "Ok" he said and waved me on. Then another line. Everybody had to run their baggage through a scanner. I was finally exiting the terminal. I pulled out the map my host had sent me for getting to the car park where my taxi driver would meet me. It was fairly easy to follow. Before entering the car-park, I took one long look at the photo of the driver I was supposed to meet. None of the guys standing there looking at me looked even remotely like him. I passed them all and looked around. A guy came up to me. "Taxi?" He was remotely like my driver, but not close enough. I waved him off. After wandering around for a short while, I was about to call the driver when I heard someone calling "Ragnar? Ragnar!". I turned and saw my driver. He smiled and waved. He lead me to his car, and we were off. He tried to say something in english, and asked me where I was from. "Norway!" I said. "Ah! You speak German then?" he asked with a big smile. "Ein bischen!" I answered. We managed to hold a short convo in German, and I learned (I think...) that he had lived in Germany for a few years before he was engaged and married, and had to move back to Kabul. I asked him if Kabul was OK. He smiled a little. Tilted his head. Laughed a bit nervously and replied "Well, you know. Things happening. What can one do? What can one do?" He mumbled a little while tilting his head back and forth. I chose not to enquire any more.
I looked out the windows at the scene flashing by. The smell of open sewer, the dust choking you, the heat, the noise of the cars and their horns, the exhaust from unserviced engines burning more lubricant than gas, the chaos of traffic. I had to smile. This is the type of place I like. It kinda reminded me a bit of Uganda. Driving into Kampala from the airport. That was my first thought. But the traffic was a bit worse here. No lanes. Seemingly no pattern. And sometimes people drove against the traffic. Hey, they were just driving where they were supposed to go! I guess the guy was right who wrote about Kabul : "If the Taliban doesn't kill you, the Kabul traffic surely will!"
We arrived at my host's apartment, and I was taken to a huge room. Much larger than I expected. With it's own bathroom. And a desk where I am writing this. The power is unstable, so most of the time there is no light here. But they have internet on solar panels, so it is always up. And I just managed to charge both my cell and my laptop to 100% before the power went out again. So in the glow from the laptop screen, I can barely make out my room.
I had dinner at a local fast food shop. Thick, juicy burger with a local twist. Yummi! That's all I can say. Yeah, I know. Burger in Kabul???? Well. Guy's gotta eat. And the place was close to the apartment. And one of the advices from my host was not to go outside after dark. So I got a takeaway and came back about sundown. Ate the burger in half darkness. Now I am full of food, impressions, and excitement. 6 more days. Tomorrow there are more adventures awaiting.
So how does it feel to be in Afghanistan? Well. Weird to be honest. On one hand, it feels like some of my "toughest" trips in Africa. But on the other hand, this place is full of people who are actively trying to kill foreigners. There is actually a war going on here. People are getting killed every day. It did feel weird telling the guy at the registering counter at the airport that I was a tourist. It gives me mixed feelings. I have friends who have been here with MSF. 4 million people are refugees in and around this country. Tens and maybe hundreds of thousands in Kabul alone. Making the situation potentially unstable, volatile and dangerous. But I will finish what I have started. I am staying until my return flight takes me back to Dubai. And I will see what I can, and do what I can while trying to stay safe.
Abyssinia!

Ragnar
Traveller

The places beyond, part 2

Dubai, March 26th 2018.

The year was 2013, I was finally going to a place I had been pondering traveling to for years. Afghanistan. Fear of violence, terror and outright war had scared me into not going before. But that year, I decided it was time. Things weren't improving, and I could not wait any longer. I bought the tickets and booked a hotel in the city of Herat, western Afghanistan. A relatively peaceful city. For Afghanistan. But the people in the Afghan embassy in Norway simply refused to even look at my visa application. So I though that was it. Afghanistan would forever be just a name on a map for me.
Last year, however, I felt a strong urge to go. Like a calling. I read a lot of accounts from others who had taken the trip there. And they recommended trying embassies in Dubai and countries around Afghanistan. I had assumed that I would get the same treatment in any embassy anywhere as in Norway. Armed with this knowledge,I bought plane tickets, and got a place to live. And booked a hotel in Dubai where I would stay for a the days neeed to get the visa. And to just to break the journey a bit. But after booking everything, I found they had an embassy in London. And managed to secure a visa from them during a stay. I changed my itinerary. Just two nights in Dubai. Mostly to break the trip.
I now had 7 days in Afghanistan booked. No plans as to the where and when. That was left to after I got the visa. But all was ready for the trip I had wanted to take for years. When at home, I had to check my passport several times just to see that I really had a visa for Afghanistan. They had glued it into my passport on the page before my American visa. Having been to "no-go"-countries, I am no longer eligible for the visa-waiver program to the US. The "perks" of traveling...
Am I a lunatic? I don't know. Some people might think so. Personally, I think I would describe myself as enthusiastic. And I have become more accepting of what is lying ahead of me. Whatever may come. And that makes me....not fearless, but rather extremely laid-back. I still try to take the safe option. I still try to keep dangers at an acceptable level. And try to keep my wits about. The latter has saved me on several occasions. Even in what people might consider "safe" countries. The most serious thing ever happening to me, is my phone charger was stolen on an overcrowed bus in rural Ghana. That's it. No injuries. No accidents. No robberies. No break-ins to my hotel room. No pick-pocketing. No scams. And this is not because I always stay in my hotel-room. It is because I keep my wits about. I always try to be aware of my surroundings. People and vehicles. Not in a paranoid fashion, but more of a "not getting distracted so I don't see what's coming"-fashion.
I have, though, never been to a place like Afghanistan. With war or war-like situations everywhere. Terrorism. And shootings so regular the NRA probably has wet dreams about it. The Taliban carried out 472 attacks in January alone. Kidnappings happens all the time. And thus it needs special attention. My landlord will provide me with the information I need to stay safe(-ish). I have no intention of playing it cool. This is a dangerous place, and I need to heed the warnings. Most places I have been have had warnings attached to them on the internet. But nothing like this. This is a place where your travel insurance is void and worthless. I had to get special insurance. From companies specializing in insuring weirdos like me. In countries like Afghanistan. I will do my best not to need the insurance. But it is a peace of mind of sorts. Knowing that if someone, God forbid, has to come and get my carcass out of here, at least they will get paid.
Yesterday, I was at the Dubai Mall. Window shopping. Eating chicked teryaki at a restaurant. Watched "Black Panther". After I excited from the theatre and walked into the food courts, by heart jumped. I was going to Afghanistan the next day! My heart raced. In both excitement and a little bit of fear. It felt like it did when I landed in Caracas, Venezuela on my first trip alone. 
My plane is leaving this morning. I am ready. Ish. And hopefully, my blog will have updates on a regular basis.
I will not detail my plans as to the when, where and what. I don't know who is reading. So for my own safety, I will continue to keep it all on the after-the-fact basis. With a delay of a couple of days. Just to be on the safe side. I don't know if I'm being paranoid or smart when doing this, but I got the advice from someone who have been in contact with security-details in Afghanistan. Safety first, exposure later. Thus the secrecy, even with my own family.

So. I guess I'll keep you guys posted.

Ragnar
With a ticket to the other side

Flour power

I dropped my sister and my niece off at the hotel and drove off to return the car to the rental company. And I got a taste of what it was like to drive in San Francisco. The GPS took me to one of the steepest streets. I drove up, and arrived at an intersection. My bonnet was pointing skywards, and blocked my view of anything in front of me. I tried standing up in my seat to see over the bonnet, but to no avail. I drove slowly forward until it tipped down enough for me to see. I managed not to run anybody over. Next, the GPS led me down another equally steep street. And then I had the other type of problem. When I was crossing a street, which was flat of course, it felt like I was driving off a cliff. I drove slowly towards the edge, and the bonnet dipped down. Allowing me to see that I had again succeeded in not running anybody over. In the end, I found the entrance to the rental company. I dropped off the car and walked out into the streets of San Francisco.
I didn't know exactly how to get anywhere, and where to go, so I asked the first weird guy I could find in the area. A 6 foot 10 guy wearing running shorts and tank top, and with a walking speed that would probably land him a medal in the olympics, but a walking style that would not. He proved to be the best guy to ask, which I guess just proves the fallacy of preconceptions about others. He gave me thorough instructions on block by block level where to go and not. Which tram, bus or street to take to get to anywhere. After a few minutes, I was packed with information, and he left me with a big smile, before he was greeted by a guy in a suit walking past him. I had obviously encountered the local celebrity.
Of course, with a short-term memory of an average gold-fish, by the third block, I had forgottten everything. So I just walked towards the sea. And ended up on at the Embarcadero area instead of Fisherman's Wharf. Guess I shouldn't apply for a job at Garmin...
I decided to stay in the vicinity of the Vaillancourt Fountain, waiting for my sister and my niece to arrive. They were walking/tramming to where I was. It was, as is common to this city, cold. Or at least to me, after a few weeks getting used to warm weather. The San Francisco fog drifted overhead, giving an extra chill in the air.
My sister and niece arrived and we went to the ferry building and had some dinner. Before walking back to our hotel via the Transamerica Pyramid. One of the most noticable buildings in San Francisco. Unfortunately, the fog engulfed most of it. But I did get a photo of it from a distance the day after.

The "pyramid" as seen from the Aquatic Park Pier

We got up, had breakfast and stepped out into the new day. My sister and niece was heading out to find a tattoo artist, while I wanted to get down to Fisherman's Wharf. I took the bus this time. We had all walked a lot yesterday, so I opted for the easy way down. We had purchased buscards from a drugstore close to our hotel. And bought some snacks for the day too.
I got off the bus at its end stop in Van Ness avenue, and walked the last bit down to the sea. There were nobody there. Except for sea lions and sea gulls. I walked to the end of the Aquatic Park Pier. It gave me a great view of the Golden Gate, Alcatraz and the city centre.
We had planned to go to Alcatraz, but due to my lack of planning, we were too late booking tickets. This was my fourth time in San Francisco, and I still haven't been there. Maybe next time. If there are a next time...

Old ships in the Maritime National Historic Park

Alcatraz

Along the shore of the Maritime National Historic Park, there is a beach. I noticed something splashing in the waters outside it, I assumed they were sea lions. But was surprised to find that they were people swinning in the cold waters. I don't know if it was training for competition or just for "fun". But it did look cold. The walk on the beach was nice.

Guess he isn't very popular here...

On the beach

As I was still waiting for the other two, I had a walk on Jefferson street to see the sights. And thre tourist traps. One of which was a wax museum. They had a few of their statues on display on the street. A few very familiar faces here...

Dinner tonight maybe?

Goooood morning, Robin Williams!

Another place of a type that can lure me in no matter where and when : A candy store. And I found the perfect combo :

Bacon and chocolate? Staple food...

I mean, what isn't there to like? Fisherman Wharf was the usual tourist spot. Loaded with tourists, street performers, souvenir shops, restaurants. And sea lions.

Sea lion invasion

My sister and niece arrived, and we had dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe at pier 39, before exploring the area with them. One place I wanted to show them, was a bakery I walked passed earlier that day. The Boudin Bakery. The smell from the shop is just amazing. And they make sourdough bread. San Francisco style. They claim their "mother dough" is a continuation from their original sourdough back in 1849. At the time, the story goes, the original baker took a jar with a mix of water and flour and set it outside in the San Francisco air. Since yeast spores are naturally occuring everywhere, a few hours later, the mix was bubbling. Indicating that yeast spores had settled and had started devouring the sugars. And this was the start of mother dough. Every place on earth has their own type of yeast, and this supposedly makes the taste slightly different. So San Francisco sourdough is something you will not find anywhere else. Whether all this is true or just a great story, I don't know. But it is a great story. And the bread is tasty, and smells wonderful!
Inside the shop, they had an intricate system of track where bread and buns and shaped breadstuff was moved around in baskets. Fun for the kids! Like me...

Bread heaven

You are so cute I could eat you up!

We had planned to go to the aquarium on the pier, but was told by a waiter at Hard Rock to rather go to the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park. Slightly more expensive, but way more to see. Basically, more bang for your bucks! As usual, we decided to walk to the museum. Our hotel was right next to Presidio Park, so we walked to see the Golden Gate first. It still wasn't clear of the fog, but slightly better.

The walk to Golden Gate Park was nice. Taking us through streets lined with houses and shops. A better view into the ordinary part of San Francisco, instead of the tourist sites. The museum was right in the middle of the park. And it was extensive, as promised. With a giant aquarium, its own planetarium, a several stories tall butterfly sanctuary and other stuff. We spent several hours there. Taking it all in. Enjoying the beauty of fish, snakes, insects and butterflies.

How is it hanging?

"She looked soooo cheap in those new feathers. I just couldn't watch!"

A large butterfly. About 3 inches "tall" in this image.

Can you spot the insect here?

I zzzzzzzay! You look like you need an apple

Butterfly feast

Tunnel under the aquarium

I'm just gonna hide in here where noone can see me!

Rrrrrribbit!

Albino croc

Corals

In the science museum, they also had a pendulum "clock" that knocked down metal pins as time passed.

Probably the most popular thing in the museum : Feeding of the penguins. One guy feeding them, and a lady noting how many fish each of them has received.

At the end of the day, we walked out on the Golden Gate. The wind was cold, but we persisted and managed to walk to the first pillar, where we had a great view of San Francisco and the windsurfers and dolphins playing below.

Golden gate in all its beauty

Dolphins swimming below

We went back to our hotel and started packing. Our bags where brimming with all kinds of stuff, and we feared they would be too heavy. Most of what made them heavy, was candies... Specifically M&Ms. They have a lot more types in the US than in Norway, so we bought family size packs of our favorites to bring home. Amounted to a few kilos.
Our American trip was coming to an end. We had seen a lot. Covered a lot a states. Seen a total eclipse of the sun. Made new friends. Eaten a lot of food and candies. Had our laughs. Our fights. Our joy.
The next day, we got up and had breakfast before our driver came to pick us up to take us to the airport in Oakland. As we drove out of San Francisco, we had a look back at the Golde Gate. The skies had finally cleared, and there it was. In all its glory. With the sun shining down on it. A fitting farewell, I guess.
A few hours later, our plane took off into the night. The lights of San Francisco disappearing behind us.

Ragnar
Signing off.

Final note : Since most of this blog series have been written half a year after the actual trip, some details and timelines might be slightly off. But they are as I remember them.