With the autumn of Afghanistan, I’ve been reflecting on my journey experiences there as a 23-year-old backpacker on the “Hippie Path” from Istanbul to Kathmandu. Yesterday and as we speak, it’s a poor but formidable land that overseas powers misunderstand and demand on underestimating.
On this ultimate journal entry from 1978, stow away with me as I journey from Kabul over the fabled Khyber Go to Pakistan.
Friday, August 4, 1978: Kabul to Rawalpindi, Pakistan
This was the morning I used to be psyched for. I don’t assume I might have woken up feeling dangerous and I didn’t. Each Gene and I felt good. We had a final huge Sina Resort breakfast and caught our little 8:30 bus to Pakistan.
This bus was the way in which I needed to do Khyber Go. I had dreamed of crossing this romantically wild and traditionally harmful cross for years and it was very excessive on my life’s guidelines of issues to do — within the prime 5 for certain. Now I used to be sitting on this kinky previous brightly, however badly painted, bus subsequent to an exquisite open window that permit me lean half of my physique out if I needed to. Our seats had been huge and excessive but crowded and the bus was stuffed with Pakistanis and “Street to India” vacationers.
I used to be glad to get out of Kabul and nearly instantly we had been in a scenic mountain cross. From right here to the border, whereas nothing by Pacific Northwest requirements, was the closest factor to lush that we’ve seen in Afghanistan. We even handed a lake, however I noticed no boats. I questioned what number of, or how few, Afghans had ever been in a ship.
Stopping in Jalalabad for a hurried lunch break, we had been again on the highway in 20 minutes. We had been nearing the border and apprehension grew. We hoped it wouldn’t be an excessive amount of of a trouble however by now nothing stunned us.
The Afghanistan border station, whereas time consuming, was straightforward. We simply sat round consuming a melon and wishing we had cash for a Coke. Truly, we had deliberate our money reserves very properly and had been leaving with no afghanis. We waited our flip to be searched, crammed out the shape, acquired our passports stamped — the same old course of, and loaded again on solely to cease 100 yards later for our introduction to Pakistan.
This place was fairly unruly. We piled right into a room and one after the other we had been known as as much as the desk. The customs official “hunt and pecked” our important statistics into his register and stamped our passports.
Passports in hand, we knew we had been simply midway by means of the method, however we weren’t certain the place to go subsequent. We wandered into one ramshackle constructing, and in a darkish room, two males jumped up from two cots and welcomed us to put down. No thanks! We acquired out of there and had been overrun by dope sellers and black-market cash chargers. Every thing was so open and blatant that it nearly appeared authorized. We purchased $10 price or Pakistan rupees after which tried to get our baggage searched so we’d be carried out. Pissed off within the chaos, we simply acquired on the bus and skipped the luggage verify. At our window we had been entertained by numerous hash sellers and a very persistent man with a small bottle of cocaine — 4 grams for $30. I took his image and instructed him to get misplaced.
Lastly we had been loaded and able to do it — to cross the Khyber Go. I used to be thrilled. Bodily, it was identical to some other rocky mountain cross, however once you’ve questioned, dreamed, and thought of one thing for a few years, it turns into particular. Up and up the bus climbed. Hanging out the window, I attempted to absorb the whole lot — each wild flip within the highway, each fortress-crowned hill, each stray goat, each gaily painted truck that handed us, and each mud hut. I appeared on the rugged individuals who inhabited this treacherous cross and questioned who they had been, how they lived, what tales might they inform. Dry, rocky graveyards with wind-tattered flags littered the hillsides. Clouds threatened. We had been transferring out of the arid Arab facet of South Asia and into the moist Indian subcontinent. Any more we might really feel muggy — however benefit from the inexperienced countryside.
We crossed the Khyber Go and handed by means of a tribal village to pay a toll for the privilege. I might see the lads round with rifles ignoring the bus and gathered in circles buying and selling each items and tales.
In a couple of minutes we had been in Peshawar and located {that a} direct prepare to Lahore was leaving in an hour. We noticed nothing to maintain us in Peshawar and the magnetism of India was getting stronger and stronger as we acquired nearer and nearer. We hassled round attempting to resolve how, what, and the place to purchase our tickets. This was a brand new expertise — studying the right way to deal with the Pakistani prepare system. A bit of bewildered and undecided what was our greatest transfer, we purchased $3.50 ticket (firstclass) for the 12-hour journey, wolfed down a fast 60 cents dinner, and located a spot on the not-so-classy first-class automobile.
The one distinction between first and second class was padded seats and $1.50. We figured for 12 hours it could be good to have the pads. Our automobile was very crowded. I used to be completely happy to be close to a window that blew in scorching, muggy air. We pulled out at 5:50, nearly on time, and I savored the breeze.
The countryside was flat, lush, and fascinating. After some time, I started studying Orwell’s Animal Farm. It was good and the time handed properly. Then it acquired darkish, and the bugs got here. The lights labored like on my previous bike — the sooner you go, the brighter they shine. This was not a really shiny prepare. The bugs acquired on me so to talk and I made a bloody declaration “Dying by ruthless squashing to any bug that lands on me any further”. I made a decision that I might simply mash them with my thumb or fingers and roll them by means of my arm and leg hairs till they disappeared — both rubbing in or falling off.
The journey dragged on. We determined to interrupt up the journey to Lahore at Rawalpindi, the midway spot, catch an early prepare within the morning to finish the journey.
It was practically midnight as we stepped into the muddy puddled streets of Rawalpindi. There was a 5:15 prepare to Lahore within the morning so we might catch a great 4 hours of sleep — if we might catch a lodge. It appeared very dangerous — each one was full and different folks on the lookout for a spot had been additionally pissed off. Fortunately, I discovered a man with a single open and a bathe subsequent door (Gene didn’t inform me in regards to the lizards till later). In any other case, it was a gap barely price the10 rupees ($1) we paid. However it did serve its goal. I took a cooling bathe and located a snug spot among the many bumps and curves of my cot and shortly I had labored myself to sleep. Immediately was a great day — numerous miles lined, a brand new nation and I had crossed the Khyber Go.
(That is journal entry #5 of a five-part collection. For those who missed any alongside the way in which, scroll again to Tuesday, Aug. 17 on my Fb web page.)