Mar. 6, 1978 - India

Took a morning walk to the Burmese embassy; the visa takes 24 hours and costs 48 rupees each ($12).  Checked out the Thai embassy and that also takes 24 hours.  Took a scooter taxi to the American Express office and stood in line for mail – there was letter from Bryan’s folks received last Thursday and mailed from the Yucatan on the 22nd.

Worked out our reservation schedule and Air France booked for us since we have to have confirmed bookings onward for the Burma visa. Now we’re booked as far as Bangkok.

Took a scooter taxi to the major bazaar street of Old Delhi – what a teeming mass of people.  Delhi is a place to see every form of rapid and especially not so rapid transit in India.  For footsore travelers, the 3 wheel taxi is a relief – they seat two over the back wheels and the driver sits in front, generally with a black vinyl roof  in various states of shredding.  The real classy drivers paint theirs up and give them names and tassels and streamers, sometimes even scarves.  However, we also rode on some where you could see the street between your feet.  Prices are cheap – by metering machine – no ride more than 3 or 4 rupees.

 An alternative, but much more strenuous for the driver, is the trishaw – a 3 wheel bike with a roughly clad and painfully muscled but thin man pulling and pedaling.  We took one once but that was enough – we preferred the faster “bumper cars” as we called them.  It is exactly the feeling in the bumper car rides except that we never actually saw someone get injured or bumped hard.

The other modes of transport we didn’t try were: bullock cart, pull cart, buses (terribly crowded), small bicycle-pulled boxes on 2 wheels with windows cut in the side from which 8 heads of schoolchildren stick out – one man pedals it all, horse carts for 4-8 people (with 4 seats), ditto for motor bikes, one person motor scooters (generally with 2 or more people on them), bicycles, and of course, cars.

Mar. 5, 1978 - India

A do-nothing day because it is Sunday and everything is closed .  Wandered around until our legs were sore and  had a great Indian meal at Kwality – tandoori chicken, meat curry and nan, an excellent light flat bread.

In the evening we went to dinner at the invitation of a young American man and his American wife.  When we first met them last night at the hotel he said “Have you come to see Baba?”  He had a red spot in the center of his forehead, close cut hair and a beatific, rather naïve expression.  “No,” we said and he explained they had come from their ashram at Ganeshpuri near Bombay while “Baba” was in Delhi for a month.  Normally he stays at the ashram with them and 700 or so other followers. He explained that Baba was a saint.

When we arrived an enormous tent had been set up and many people, mostly Indians were leaving.  We took off out shoes and paid 4 rupees each and went into an area set aside for eating.  There were rugs set in rows on the dirt floor and in a row in front of each rug was a green leaf tray and bowl  fashioned from one or two leaves and held together with twigs.  There was also a plastic drinking “glass.”

The women and men sat separately, all facing forward.  The food was brought around to each place and ladled out.  We received dahl, a pea curry, chapatti, vegetable salad and a big crisp chip. Tasty.  I was advised that I must eat all I am given but I can refuse seconds.  I had seconds and was very full.  Afterwards we got up, rolled our “plate” and deposited it in a trash box.  A man poured water over our hands from a bucket because we had eaten with our hand.

I sat next to two American women and I heard mostly American accents.  They said the ashram is comprised of 4-500 Americans and 2-300 Indians.  There was a charter flight from the states every 3 months.  “You are lucky,” she said, “to see a saint.”  She invited us tomorrow to see him when he comes outside.  “After all,” she said, “you are eating his food.”

Back to our guest house with our American friend, his wife and their 18 month old daughter who sang “Hare Krishna, Hare Rama” most of the way home in her sweet childish voice.

Mar. 4, 1978 - India

Our taxi driver from yesterday came to pick us up at the hotel at 8. The plane to Delhi was delayed until 12 noon so we decided to go back into Kabul.  A bus costs 1 AFG and a taxi 50 so we decided to experience the bus.  I’m glad we did because we saw that the first 3 rows of seats on the bus are reserved for women and children and they sure cram them in.  When it started filling up after 2-3 stops, Bryan moved to the back and left me with the ladies who were covered from head to toe.  A woman and infant sat next to me. She had uncovered her face but after an uncertain look at me covered again.  The baby and I made faces at each other.

The bus ride took about 10 minutes and at the center of town everyone got out.  Thank goodness for that because we were so crammed in I couldn’t have gotten out if I wanted.  On the way back, after buying a few postcards, I shared a seat with two other women – cozy.  The one next to me was old by the looks of her hands and I think she kept smiling and nodding to me.  I’m sure about the nodding and I smiled back.  Even at close range the mesh covering their face is difficult to see through.

The plane finally took off and we had an uneventful flight except that we were served a small snack and it was past lunch time.  The plane was a Swedish one leased to Ariana and the pilot and stewardesses were Swedish.

Arrival in Delhi was worse than I had imagined and had me in tears.  The baggage search was long with only two officials for the plane and too many people.  Taxis outside wanted to charge us 3 times the price.  A helpful young British man explained the taxi metering system and arranged for a taxi to take us to a guesthouse address recommended by friends.  There was no phone number so we just took our chances.

We were warmly welcomed and offered tea and I calmed down. The room is lovely with two French doors and a window overlooking the garden and lawn.  It has a private bath and breakfast for 65 rupees ($8).  How peaceful after that airport hassle.

We took a 3-wheel taxi scooter into town center – about a 10 minute ride – at the cost of 2.80 rupees, about 30 or so cents.  These are metered too, only at ½ the rate of the taxis.  We got some maps from the tourist office and checked the American Express office but the mail section will be closed until Monday – darn.  Had a ham and eggs dinner at a pleasant restaurant – Kwality – kind of like a Dennys and then home to bed.

Mar. 3, 1978 - Afghanistan

We spent a warm night in spite of cold outside thanks to two quilts and a wood fire.  After breakfast we left for Kabul at 8 and stopped for a panoramic view of the Buddhas from the hotel across the valley.  

 Scenic and uneventful drive back; 7 instead of  9 hours.

We did see a buzkashi  game organizing on a wide plateau but decided not to wait until it started.  It would have been great to watch. (Buzkashi involves fast horses, skilled horsemen and a calf carcass.)

Mar. 1-2, 1978 - Afghanistan

March came in like a lamb.  We had almost decided to leave Afghanistan since it was so cold and overcast but this morning it was sunny with blue skies.  We contacted another couple – Gary and Karen from Australia – who had expressed an interest in going to Bamian.  We arranged to hire a taxi for 3500 ($20 each) with a driver to leave tomorrow.  Found a good restaurant with pizza – seems to be popular with Americans.  Visited the Kabul Museum.

Up at 6:30 the next day to pick up Karen and Gary at their hotel.  Sunny clear morning – no breakfast.  Drove for 4 hours along a valley with snow topped mountains along the side of a torrential river.  The road was paved only the first 70 km; the rest was dusty gravel.  Stopped for tea at a tea house in the village of Char Bah.  Buses were stopped there too.  The village is mud houses with colorful shops selling oranges, raisins, nuts, scarves and miscellaneous household goods opening onto either side of the road.  The shopkeeper usually sits cross-legged in the center of his goods with a scale close at hand. His counter weight for a kilo might be a stone; anyway that is how one man weighed out our oranges.  I bought a small bag of almonds but they tasted like marzipan or something unusual.

The tea house had a wood stove and raised platforms covered with rugs to sit on.   However we took the more conventional seats at some tables in the back.

On again, this time climbing a 9,200 foot pass into the snow.  The road surface was slushy but plowed.  Beautiful mountains.

Flat tire by a stream.  The driver patched the tire right there using a “hot patch.”  His spare was balder than the flat so I don’t blame him.  Took about 1 hour.

Arrived in Bamian at 4 with enough time to climb to the top of the large Buddha.

The statue had been previously defaced but the Taliban dynamited in 2001 because it was decreed that the statues were “idols” and therefore forbidden under Sharia law.  So glad we got to see this.

Cold wind blowing and it was colder than Kabul so we didn’t feel inclined to wander around sightseeing.  Our hotel had a wood stove which was pretty tempting.  They wanted to charge 600 AFS for a room but we bargained to 400.  It was worth it for the heater and inside toilet.  We found out later that there was a hotel for 20 AFS but I liked ours.

Found a bakery with great shortcake cookies to hold us until dinner (first food of the day besides the oranges and almonds.)  Dinner was at 6 with rice with carrots, raisins and lamb stew. Excellent!

Feb. 27-28 - Afghanistan

Checked out of Kabul Hotel and moved to Metropole.  A London to Kathmandu bus was stopping over and it’s a nice comfortable hotel.  

View of the mountains from our hotel over the rooftops of Kabul

 The bus organizers had  posted a map of good restaurants and the best shopping area (“Chicken Street”) so it made our orientation easier, too.  There is lots of beautiful leather work and Bryan immediately bought the perfect camera bag (200afg/$4). The exchange rate is about $1 = 42 afg.  There is also a large selection of peasant style dresses that have become popular in the US.  Actually they are Afghan traditional style and have been adapted to western styles.  Exquisite embroidery.  We decided they were too bulky to send home, although I did buy an embroidered strip to take home.  Also bought some warm hand knit socks; did I mention it is cold here?

In the evening we went to dinner at a sit-on-cushions-on-the-floor Afghan restaurant with some of the bus people. Tasty “shashlick” with egg.

The next morning was still cold but fortunately there is a space heater in our room. Walked to the FAO (Food and Agricultural Organization)  to see about Bryan’s physical and if there are any interesting projects in Afghanistan.  The check-up will take 4 to 5 days and we might stay if the weather changes.  The FAO director was out.

Walked about and bought a suitcase for Bryan and then “exchanged” our old canvas backpack/bags that I had sewn for the trip for a purse for me and 150 AFG.  Now we’ve got plenty of  leather – enough.

Feb. 26, 1978 - Afghanistan

Got up early and went to Ariana Afghan airlines and booked our seats.  That’s a relief because except for this flight today, all the others leave at 5am.  Breakfasted on ham and eggs at a deluxe hostel – The Park – and paid deluxe prices - $10 – but it was what we were looking for.  This was the first place that served “real” coffee, not instant.  I miss it after our lovely Ethiopian coffee.

Caught a taxi to the airport.  Had a rough flight over Afghanistan and Kabul was socked in.  The captain said he would fly in and have a look anyway and I guess saw something because we landed safely.  Kabul is ringed by mountains but the little bowl was clear in the center.

This article in the English language paper is about the area near Harar where we lived in Ethiopia.

Kabul is a fantastic city but chilly.  People are friendly with the readiest smiles we’ve met all trip.  The rainstorm we flew through had just stopped and mud and puddles are everywhere.  Checked into a $20 hotel but can probably move tomorrow; now it is just nice to have a lovely large warm room, a hot bath, and a view of the mountains. 

Kabul is definitely an ancient, people-watching city.

We took a stroll around as the sun set.  Bryan says he can’t see much change in the  10 years since he was last here.  People still dress in traditional style: men in cotton bloomers and  long shirts tails out, women in chadri head to toe.  Sometimes called burqas, the coverings have a mesh panel to look out of and are made of  nylon.  It has a shorter panel in front but they normally pull it together.  However, the chadri  aren’t black but a lovely pale blue, rust, darker blue and a mossy green.  The top is like a built-in embroidered hat and even the mesh peephole is the same color.  We saw only one or two groups of western-dressed women, students probably.