I was cold though, so I had the bright idea of putting the bukhari up to maximum for a bit to warm the room a little - of course, when I went to turn it down, the control knob had melted. So I spent a couple of panicked minutes convinced my room was about to burst into flames, until I finally got the thing under control – well, switched off, anyway. Of course, it takes quite a while for the diesel to burn off, so you’re not quite sure if you’ve succeeded until the flame is almost out.
So, disaster averted, I braved the snow (for 30 yards) to get to the office – where I had a bite of breakfast, and, in pretty short order, rescued a laptop which had had a user password changed accidentally to something unknown. Thankfully, the other account was an administration account, and I was able to change the user password from the control panel – otherwise it would have been out with the disk, off with the data, and on with a rebuild. Thankfully it didn’t come to that!
Anthony and I talked to S**** about his experiences of the conflict, and what his (and others) views were of the arrival and continued presence of foreign military troops in Afghanistan. We got a good lesson in the complexities of regional politics, and I had a fresh appreciation of how even a simple comment from London or Washington can have a profound effect on the security and anxiety of huge swathes of people totally outside of American or British sovereignty.
S****, as arranged, came round and made some cool suggestions about where to go over lunch – she managed to cram Anthony, J**** and K****, herself and I in the 4x4 – I got prime position up front with the driver (although there are different theories on the safety of having foreign nationals in the front – although as a male it was better for me to be up there) – where I got to get some good views of the city as we went through it, something I always enjoy. The driver was excellent as well – you get a feel very quickly for how good someone is at avoiding potholes whilst driving quickly, and this guy was excellent.
The first port of call was Darul Aman Palace, next to Kabul museum, both picturesque but somewhat sad places – the palace being a shelled out skeletal box on the top of the hill, a reminder both of the conflict of the last few decades, and the relative prosperity and world citizenship that Kabul held into the mid 70s – if there’s one thing you feel in Kabul, it’s the almost mystical seperation from the normal day to day business of the rest of the world. It’s like you’re stepping into a slightly nightmarish fantasy world, where the normal rules and conventions are just slightly askew. Like stepping back and sideways in time a few decades, or a couple of hundred years.
But enough melancholy prose, here’s the pictures:
Darul Aman Palace, looking forlorn in the snow
After we’d taken the requisite number of photos of the palace (I was getting a little snap happy and was in danger of gallivanting all around the area quite alone), we stepped into Kabul Museum. Even though the top floor was undergoing renovation (after being totally destroyed by the Taliban in 2000/1 and then being rebuilt), it was still an amazingly empty place. There was one, fairly large room with a collection of striking wooden Parun Kafir (supposedly descendants of Alexander the Great) figures, and not much else. Even these figures had been reconstructed after being hacked to pieces by the Taliban. There were two side corridors with photos of destroyed objects, and a few sad display cases; although there were a few Buddha figures, which, I suppose, had been reconstructed like the rest. Still, I think the museum is limping back to life, although with the deteriorating security situation, any resources are likely to dry up unless things get considerably better.
The outside, however, had a really interesting exhibit – propped up, in the snow, with their windows open to the elements, were a brooding gang of ex diplomatic / presidential cars, all with various (and historical) kinds of bullet proof glass – all shot out. The combination of black paintwork with polished chrome, with bullet shattered windows invaded by snow made an arresting visage, like a 50s American auto advert, subverted by the modern age.
After we’d been kicked out of the museum (because of closing time) we headed off to Qargha reservoir, by way of Kabul golf course. Apparently, its situated on a old minefield, and all the mines have been cleared, although you’d have to make a good case for me to get on the fairways there. Though, to be fair, you’d have to make a fairly compelling argument to get me on a golf course anywhere.
Kabul Golf Course – where landing in a bunker has a whole new meaning!
The reservoir itself is like a summer resort for the Kabulis – and, like every summer resort, looked like a ghost town in the winter. Undeterred, our driver took us down onto the “beach”, which turned out to be a sea of sticky yet slippery mud, in which we gallivanted for a while. We then decided to drive further along, a plan we abandoned a little while later when we found ourselves in a position where the wheels were moving in a way that would normally produce forwards motion, but we were moving gracefully sideways and backwards at an arresting angle down a mud bank. Thankfully, we got back to the road, eventually, although I did note the telling action of our driver putting on his seat belt. Always something to worry about in a city where the purpose of a seatbelt seems to be often unknown.
It was beautiful though, and good to feel you could get out and walk freely.
On the way to and from the reservoir, we passed though some pretty poor housing areas – pretty poor even for Kabul. Sahar pointed out a couple of forelorn tents in the mud, which were being used as housing. Perhaps more disturbingly, especially in the winter snow, was an open air tented school.
I can’t even imagine what it would be like to try and learn anything here – and this is something which has been provided by the international aid community – it just brought home how bad things really are out here.
