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Print guide 2002
The authors
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Danger and roses
in the dust of Kabul
FT.com site; Sep 19, 2003
There are signs of tourism in Afghanistan, Lauren Foster finds, but ambushes
and grenades still pepper the talk over dinner. My first impressions of Kabul
were forged before I had set foot on its soil. From the window of the
aircraft I looked out at the approaching airfield; gnarled wrecks of bombed
planes lay near the runway, their charred skeletons like giant, lifeless
insects, perverse in death.
Within minutes of arriving I sensed that Afghanistan would be everything I
had expected and nothing like what I had expected. But that, in essence, was
the point of going there.
Over the years I had absorbed many images of Afghanistan, from the green-eyed
gaze of the iconographic National Geographic cover and Sebastia~o Salgado's
haunting photographs to the coverage that blanketed western media in the past
couple of years.
In an essay last year, Pico Iyer described travel as "how we put a face
and a voice to the Other and step a little beyond our secondhand images of
the alien. It is, in fact, how we learn about the world and come to terms
(and sometimes peace) with it".
It did not take much time in Kabul for me to realise I held two mis-impressions
of the city: that women had largely discarded their burqas, the head-to-toe
covering mandated under the Taliban, and that most of the city lay in ruin.
While women are no longer forced by law to wear burqas, it is still the
societal norm in many areas. At times I was amused to see strappy high-heeled
sandals or funky western-style jeans peeking out from under them.
The centre of the city is, for the most part, intact. But the outskirts tell
a different story. Many buildings have been razed, leaving only decaying
mounds. Those buildings that are standing are pockmarked with bullet holes.
Kabul is a city of roses, geraniums and dust. The first rose bush I saw
somehow seemed other-worldly. "Roses? In Kabul?" I remember
thinking. They seemed so out of place.
Despite its destruction and decay - or perhaps because of it - Kabul is a
fascinating place to visit. The threat of unexploded ordnance, mines and
attacks on foreigners, make it feel very much like a frontier town.
There were times when I felt as though I was on the set of a Star Wars film:
the air was hot, dry and dusty and I was surrounded by men cloaked in exotic
turbans and flowing robes, their lined faces seeming to tell a thousand
tales. It was at once futuristic and ancient.
The mix of people and colours - men in turbans and photographers' vests,
women in billowing blue burqas and black chadors - was visually intoxicating.
So, too, were many Afghans, their handsome faces defined by piercing and
expressive eyes.
Kabul is two distinct cities. One is inhabited by locals struggling with poor
sanitation, poverty and rising crime. The other by foreign aid workers and
expatriates, whose cooks prepare their meals and whose drivers ferry them to
and from their guarded homes.
There is a dangerous undercurrent and news of security briefings peppered
dinner conversation while I was there. "Don't drive with your windows
open because someone could throw in a grenade," I was told. "Don't
wear a seatbelt in case you need to get out of the car quickly."
The city has its share of surprises. One evening I headed to Anaar, a new,
upmarket Indian restaurant. I wasn't expecting a red carpet when I walked up
to the entrance. Nor was I expecting to see a tank and soldiers with night
vision goggles and rifles outside. But so it goes as a tourist in
Afghanistan.
"So what are you doing here," asked a Dutch peace-keeping soldier.
"I'm a tourist," I said.
He looked at me in disbelief.
"Yeah, me too," he replied, only half joking. "I am also a
tourist in Afghanistan."
By then I had been in the city for a week, but the military presence still
caught me off guard. It shouldn't have done. I had seen many army vehicles
and soldiers. The night before I had turned up at a lavish party thrown by
the Italian ambassador. Like a chained guard dog, a tank stood by the gate as
part of the welcoming committee.
There are some historical sights in Kabul, but most of them are ruined and
getting around is difficult. To make it easier, two enterprising
journalists recently completed Kabul's first tourist guidebook in 20 years.
Kabul: The Bradt Mini Guide evolved from a 16-page leaflet aptly named The
Survival Guide to Kabul.
Last year there was a lot of hype when a British operator arranged a tour
group to visit Afghanistan. Today, there are signs of a tourist industry but
few tourists.
There is no public transport to speak of (foreigners tend to avoid taking
taxis because of fears of kidnapping) so travellers need to hire a car and
driver, which can become expensive. It also helps to have a translator, which
adds to costs.
For souvenirs, Chicken Street is a treasure trove. It is lined with shops
stacked with everything from dusty engraved copper and brass utensils, such
as water jugs and ashtrays, to old weapons. The artifacts reminded me of
storybook objects that could be rubbed to summon a genie wearing a turban.
(Some foreigners stay away from Chicken Street because of fears it could be a
target for a suicide attack.)
Kabul has a thriving street-life. The roads throb with people and traffic.
Buses and taxis share the dusty roads with the ubiquitous armada of white
United Nations and aid vehicles, many with outsize aerials on their bonnets
that make them look like mechanical rhinoceroses.
Men pushing carts laden with mangoes, lettuces or watermelons jostle for
space with cyclists and donkey carts. Children pick their way through the
dense traffic, peddling copies of Kabul Weekly or local phrase books. In the
streets men huddle around kebab stands. Women walk together, or with their
children.
Throughout the streets and houses of Kabul, stark simplicity is juxtaposed
with social complexity. André Malraux, the French novelist, put it well:
"Outdoors, not a leaf, and indoors, not a piece of furniture: the walls,
the sky, and God."
Chocolate cake in Kabul
First time, solo visitors to Kabul should pick up 'Kabul: The Bradt Mini
Guide,' by Dominic Medley and Jude Barrand. It is packed with tips on
culture, where to hire a car or a translator and suggestions of places to
stay and eat (www.kabulguide.net).
There are three main ways of flying to Kabul: Ariana Afghan Airlines
(www.flyariana.com) flies from Dubai and Islamabad, Pakistan International
Airlines (www.piac.com.pk) flies from Islamabad, and United Nations
Humanitarian Air Services (Unhas) flies from Islamabad. (These flights are
popular but expensive, unless you work for an accredited non-governmental
organisation.)
For travellers in Pakistan, visas can be arranged at the Embassy of
Afghanistan in Islamabad.
A popular place to stay or eat is Bs Place, a guesthouse set in a large,
shady garden and run by Matt Woods, a friendly and helpful Australian. The
menu includes a chocolate cake made by women at an NGO-run project.
To stay in the thick of things, Mustafa Hotel (www.mustafahotel.com) is near
the shopping areas of Chicken Street and Flower Street. It also has an online
cafe.
For foodies, Kabul boasts a thriving restaurant scene. Anaar, behind the
Unica guesthouse, offers "multi ethnic food" that it describes as
"Indian-Chinese-Thai", while Lai Thai, in the Wazir Akbar Khan
neighbourhood, serves arguably the best food in town with its fresh, fragrant
Thai dishes.
Lauren Foster is an FT reporter in New York
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