Between the Lines of Asia: Western Afghanistan- Pondering thoughts on the edge of Persia.

Herat, Afghanistan

Welcome to Herat.

August 2012

So here we are. I have flown across the country and I have arrived at the edge of Iran. I have arrived in what many call the safest city in Afghanistan, a more prosperous city, where many of the dangerous problems of Kandahar, Kabul and the North do not prevail. Where the people share more in common with their Persian neighbors than that of the eastern or southern parts of the country. Welcome to Herat.

Herat Airport.

Luggage collection, lol.

Herat is a famed city on the silk road, know for its incredible fort, built centuries ago by Alexander the Great and rebuilt and occupied by some of histories greatest conquerors including the likes of Tamerlane, Ghengis Khan and various Persian rulers. The fort today is now occupied by the Afghan security forces and was off limits to myself, but the outside view is flat out spectacular.

The city had a much different feel than the others I visited in Afghanistan, I have to say it was quite relaxed, a lot less edgy and the people have a much different dress style than elsewhere in the country. They are definitely more "Persianified" than the other parts of Afghanistan.

Post flight prayer.

I wandered through the different markets of Herat, saw the famed glass makers of old, the goods recently shipped from Iran or Turkey and people buying in preparation for Eid.

Herat city.

I only spent two days in Herat, as people were advising me to get out of Afghanistan before Eid, as the entire country basically shuts down. I enjoyed my few nights at the Marco Polo guest house, recommended to me by my friend Roberto, who travelled to Afghanistan earlier this year. I enjoyed the food here in Herat and the pre Eid celebrations had everyone excited. But I knew that all this happiness on the surface can change in an instant in Afghanistan and something in my gut told it was time to get out of dodge. I hired a taxi and he drove me to the border.

Grand Mosque, Herat.

Local kids outside the market.

I missed customs by only ten minutes, and with the border shut, I would have to spend a night in one of the tea houses on the Afghan side. Which I might add turned out to be one of the coolest experiences of the trip. I discovered that many other Afghans had too missed the border that afternoon and would also have to spend the night with me. But this was the night that the muslim holy fast of Ramazan ends, so in a way it is sort of like easter for christians, it is one big party! Afghan style.

Herat Markets.

Food was on the house! Gallons of tea were to be drank and the hookah pipes ran all night. I dined with the Afghan border police late into the night and with my limited Dari and their limited English it turned out to be a great send off to this incredibly interesting country.

Inside grand mosque, Herat.

As I sat in the tea house we were watching the news and saw that bombs had exploded in Herat that night, as terrorism attacks had sprung out across the country, as was to be expected following the breaking of the fast. I thanked god and my guardian angel for getting me to the safe haven on the border of Iran. And as I went to sleep under the stars on the deck of this tea house, I pondered my experience here in Afghanistan, as even down to the last minute, despite all the problems around them, the Afghans were still treating me as one of their own. I rested well and awoke the following day to my first and only normal breakfast in Afghanistan.

Ramazan is over! And so is my trip to Afghanistan, the Afghans were rushing me to the border with Iran. I was stamped out of Afghan customs and brought forward across the barbed wire border to seeing pictures of the grand Ayatollah and the Islamic Republic of Iran.

Herat Citadel.

I write now in Mashad, Iran. And I cannot help but be so thankful that I am here safe and sound. It seems strange to me all that has happened the last few weeks in Afghanistan.

I come away with many concepts to puzzle and of course a lasting experience that I may never see again in my life. I will always treasure my experience in Afghanistan because of one particular reason, the PEOPLE of Afghanistan. No matter what their tribe, their status, their level of wealth, or anything, they treated me so very kind. Afghans have suffered more than most in history, but despite this, and their so few material possessions, they are rich in faith, love, kindness and hospitality. One of the principle teachings I remember from church growing up was when Jesus preached the beatitudes on the hill above lake Galilee, and he said: "Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God".

The man who would take me to the border.

The Afghans are the most pure of heart people I have ever seen and I believe myself to be a better man from having spent time with them. They are a people so misunderstood, and if there is any message I can convey from the trip "Between the lines of Asia", it is to look beyond the headlines and the stories of terror and stereotypes, and look closely at the people of these misunderstood lands. For the experiences they have and things they can teach us are so much and I am blessed from having explored here to see and experience it. I wish them nothing but the best and I look forward to the day when I can return to visit their country, hopefully when peace comes to this land in the future.

Thank you so much to all those that made the experience in Afghanistan so special.

Sincerely,