And so we are indeed here – in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan, one of the most mysterious and unknown cities of all. The largest city in Afghanistan and the economic and cultural center of the country.
And - imagine that - with over 3500 years of history, it is one of the oldest continuously inhabited regions in the world. And of all places in this remote area in the heart of Central Asia.
But what exactly did we know about Afghanistan back then, in the distant 1974?
Not much. A warlike nation in the Hindu Kush, never really conquered or vanquished, neither by the English (who seriously tried and failed) nor by other aggressors, ruled by a king whose power was limited, if not made impossible, by the various tribes.
In fact, its sphere of influence does not extend further than the borders of Kabul, all other regions, including the big cities, are basically ungovernable.
Not that we feel any kind of "Winds of Change" on this autumnal day at the end of October, we are much too interested in other things. About life in this chaotic city. The inhabitants, the culture, the daily life.
And yet the signs are there, below the surface, with a bit of imagination and the nose in the wind one could have guessed the looming changes.
I refer to a Wiki entry on Afghanistan in 1974:
It is announced that another attempt to overthrow the regime has been discovered and quashed; its leader has been executed and 11 participants imprisoned. Shortly afterward there is trouble in Tahar province, where the Muslim Brotherhood, which dislikes President Daud's secularizing policy, is very influential. The government is obliged to take stern action; 70 members of the brotherhood are arrested, along with the governor of the province, the revenue commissioner, and the superintendent of police, and all are brought to trial on charges of plotting against the state.
Colorful and noisy
Undeterred by all the social and political changes on the horizon, we set out to get to know this city which is crazy in every sense of the word.
It is a town enclosed by inhospitable surroundings, though this is actually true of the whole country. Mountains in the distance encircle the flat built city, few skyscrapers, a few roads crisscross it, especially in north-south direction.
But if you stand in the middle, you don't notice any of this. Life is colorful and noisy and dusty, the nearby desert makes itself felt.
People are used to it, they don't know anything else. We, on the other hand, still have to get used to it. To the constant noise level, to the honking cars with murderous exhaust fumes, but also to the stores along the streets, to the colorful people mingling.
After all, Kabul is also the first significant destination for every hippie on the trail to India.
Hippies and Chicken Street
If anything is known about Kabul at this time in the whole wide world, then it is this, at first glance, narrow alley called Chicken Street. It is the center of all things tourists, i.e. hippies, are interested in.
Everything is available to delight the hippie heart. Colorful dresses in Batik look, the same coats, hookahs, carpets and antique weapons, everything just like in Herat, but more of everything and crazier.
We stroll through the alleys, admire the displays, wrinkle our noses at the sight of the meat on display, hanging in the open air and filling it with acrid odor.
The offer (not the meat) is tailored to the particular tastes of young people, the largest, the most diverse, the most colorful.
It's almost like the Shangri-La of the hippie generation, a kind of paradise where everything your heart desires is available, perhaps just a retreat from everything you reject.
But many of the young people at the time have a different local specialty in mind, it's no coincidence it's called black Afghan.
Whether this does any service to the onward journey is questionable. At the latest in Goa or Kathmandu, the curtain will be drawn for the one or the other. The pitiful sight of the last stranded hippies in Goa testifies to a very different, a rather sad story
Our intentions are of a completely different nature. But the city with all its noise and bad air seems, as we quickly notice, quite exhausting. Which, not surprisingly, leads to finding ourselves in one of the Traveller cafés, which again perfectly tailors its offerings to the tastes of young people.
Matching Song of the year: Al Green—Take me to the River
And here the trip continues... in Kabul
