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A lovely trip to India  

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When we arrived in Delhi the air was warm, not too warm though, and there were no queues at the pre-paid taxi counter. So we swiftly climbed into our taxi and made our way to Old Delhi.

Once we got out of the airport's huzzle and buzzle and the warm air was blowing into the cab we could relax and shifted to holiday-mode. 4.5 days of unobstrcted sightseeing and shopping stretched before us ...

I knew the hotel, I had stayed there with my husband then and since I knew it was decent I booked it for us as well. Not a thought reminded me of the fact that I had been here before under different circumstances until my friend mentioned that he didn't feel too good about this fact.

We went to New Delhi, to Agra and to Ajmer in Rajestan. Except for Ajmer I had seen the sights but it was nice to "do" them again. And somehow this time I took in everything deeply. I smelled the flowers, I felt the grass under my feet as we walked from India Gate to the Houses of Parliament. The beauty of the Taj seemed more present than when I came here last. Maybe it was because I was with someone who took a real interest in everything, had historical knowledge of these places - or maybe it was just because he put his arm around me, held my hand and kissed me often.

Ajmer is famous for the tomb of Hazrat Mu'inuddin Chishti, the founder of the Chishti Sufi order, one of the most important Sufi organizations in India and Pakistan.  Sufi teachers were important missionaries of Islam, through their piety, charisma, blessings, and service.  Muinuddin lived in Ajmer from 1190 until his death in 1232, and the reverence in which he was held after his death can be seen in the patronage his tomb attracted.  The "crown" on the tomb's summit is made of solid gold, and the open space in the foreground is a mosque built by the Moghul emperor Shah Jahan.  This is a holy site were all religions come to and pray for their wishes to be heard.

I love to visit such mulit-religious holy sites. They have good vibrations.

On the negative side I felt that India has become more money-grabbing than last time. There is not a piece of information which comes for free, not a little service provided out of sheer kindness. Everything has a price. The ultimate rip-off attempt we were confronted with occured in Ajmer were the rickshaw wala actually wanted to charge us 350 rupees for a 5 min ride. After throughing 50 in his face we left him standing.

But other than that it was a great break - a beautiful and memorable time together.

A trip to London

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6^th October 2007

 

Do you remember the song that starts “this is a journey into sound”? Well, this was a journey into time – initially at least.

I was on my way to London – not via Dubai or Delhi – no, via Baku. Baku is the capital of Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan? Caspian Sea … yes, there. The ticket was below US$1,000 return, cheaper than any other airline, so I thought it was worth flying to London, a place I had never been, despite having lived in Europe for 25 years. We came up with this idea as my friend is flying via London this time on his way back from Toronto. So I am planning on meeting him here on Thursday. All in all a perfect excuse to get away and a chance to spend a few days unobserved, as a couple.

But let’s start from the start: the Azerbaijan Airlines plane from Kabul to Baku must have been the oldest I have ever flown in. By the looks of it the bird was from the late 60ies. I had been enlightened the other day by a pilot in Dubai that planes have a lifespan of about 40 years and was shocked to hear that the Boeing 737 flown by Kam Air was already a 20 year old plane … The language on the seats and overhead compartments was an unidentifiable one – my guess was Swedish or something, not Russian surprisingly – and the seats were so flimsy that I feared they couldn’t carry my weight. The legroom was appalling but luckily I spotted the seat next to the emergency exit with no seat in front of me. That meant I could stretch my legs.

But since entertaining such security thoughts at the time that you are ready for take off is futile I switched on my I Pod and hoped for the best.

The crew was an odd mix from god-knows-what-countries – but they all seems to agree on Russian in their communication. Two of the flight attendants featured a hair-do straight out of 70s-Russia held together by a bottle of hair spray.

 

At 15.30 Kabul time we touched down in Baku without any incidents. After crossing the Caspian Sea which offers spectacular views we landed at a reasonably modern airport which seemed recently upgraded with a new duty free shopping area just about to open. Still the Soviet heritage was shining through with officials still wearing those slightly oversized, slightly too flat uniform hats adding a slightly clownish air to them.

The transit desk was helpful with one fellow grabbing my ticket and another grabbing my passport. Fearing both might get lost in the Central Asian process I protested, demanding to keep both my documents together – to no avail. While I was sent with my ticket to have it processed by a grunting officer for a boarding pass to London, my passport – I was told – would follow shortly before check-in. Again hoping for the best I collected my boarding pass and went for a coffee in the only available restaurant. The super-friendly – notice the irony - Russian-style waitresses served up a sugary brown water not even worthwhile its reasonable 1$.

 

One hour later it was off to London. I had received my passport back – what did they do with it? – and this time round the plane appeared in much better conditions and the flight attendance were from this decade and truly friendly

After lunch I went straight to sleep. As the plane was far from full I had the luxury of 3 seats to myself

 

Arriving in London Heathrow and getting oriented was easy – the tube system is quite easy to navigate and stuff works even though everything seems a bit old. I bought a weekly card which allows me to use buses as well as the underground, so there won’t be any ticket-concerns.

Then I made my way to South Harrow were my friend's friend had offered to put us up in his flat. Though located in an ethnically mixed, clearly working class neighbourhood he has a nice tidy apartment and the connections to down-town are good. Ten minutes walk from his house get me to the nearest tube station.

His story is a typical immigrant’s story: from Loghar province in Afghanistan he studied law in Moscow, just like my friend and just like him holds a Master’s Degree in Law. Still in London he was unable to find a job in his field and is now driving a taxi. He is not of my friend's calibre but still he would be in the position to do better. He struggled the same in Canada having to re-do his high school diploma as his Afghan one was not recognised, he also drove taxis and worked in a Pizza shop to make a living while studying at the same time. This he carried on, acquiring not only his High School Diploma but also a Journalism Degree. And now he can’t even find a job which pays him appropriate money in Kabul and certainly not in Canada either.

 

7^th October

 

I am out and about exploring London!

Since I have a week I didn’t want to do the tourist thing straight away. I just took the tube and got down at Piccadilly Circus – it sounded familiar so I thought let’s start here. And it was a good choice.

While Piccadilly is mainly a theatre and entertainment area there are a couple of shopping opportunities. But first I spotted a huge Burger King. In the hope that the many Asian vegetarians living in London had made an impact I scanned the menu for “veggie burger” – and indeed, there it was. For the ridiculous amount of 5 pounds = 10US$ = 15S$ (!!!) you get a meal. Anyway it was nice and I justified my visit to this icon of Western consumerism with there not being any fast food in Kabul. So I felt I hadn’t contributed to the world’s pollution in the last year or for that matter for many years prior to that as in Singapore there are no more veggie burgers at neither McDonald’s nor Burger King.

Then I spent the day shopping and bought a ticket to a city hop-on-hop-off-tour. The ticket is valid for two days and one can go round Central London as often as one wants. So I am going to start with that tomorrow.

On my way home I got down at Knightsbridge and went into Harrod’s. This place is really quite spectacular, even though of course the design is every bit as tacky as one sees it on television. But they have everything there – and I mean everything!

For my fatal attraction there is a big Zara right opposite Harrod’s where I of course ended up buying a couple of things.

After a 9S$ cup of coffee at Starbucks I called it a day and took the tube back to South Harrow.

 

8^th October

 

Shopping day. But first I went back to Piccadilly because I had spotted a Starbucks with wireless internet connection there. So at first – in a 5£-per-hour session - I proof-read some of Kabul Weekly’s articles and sent them back to Kabul. By the time I was done it was lunch time and I wandered once more into Burger King for my veggie burger.

After that it was off to Oxford Street for a look at the shops there. This city has overwhelming shopping. Just this one street has all the regular street brands and after walking it up and down you are shopped out. But there are at least 10 more of these throughout the city plus all the markets.

I am actually quite proud of myself: so far no impulse and unnecessary buys, just things I really need – such as a garment which I call the “culture double”: in the West you wear it as a dress with stockings and boots, in Muslim countries you were it with pants – quite ingenious, I thought.

A visit to Borders yielded my implementation of a PR and direct marketing strategy for AISA. I found just the books which dealt with details in these two areas.

In the evening I met up with Rajesh’ cousin Jasminder in her University-town of Uxbridge – only 6 tube stations away from where I am staying. Her family is staying in the Ealing area, very close to South Hall – surprise, surprise. South Hall is India Central in London and features the largest Gurudwara outside of India. We went for dinner and a coffee and made plans for the next day.

 

9^th October

 

That next day the weather had suddenly turned rainy – more stereotypical if you will. It is said to brighten up again on Thursday. That would be perfect as my friend is coming Thursday morning. So we could do the city tours together …

Undeterred I met Jasmin in Ealing Common and we drove to South Hall. The golden dome of the Gurudwara dominates the skyline, shining over the rooftops even on a rainy day like that.  The temple itself is very nicely designed – modern and functional.

After offering our respects we went to the High Street for some shopping. I found a couple of nice suits and a DVD.

Afterwards we went for South Indian food – something I hadn’t had since my last visit to Singapore. North Indian I eat everyday in my house, but not Dosais ….

Warmed up by a really hearty Rasam Jasmin dropped me off near a Marks & Spencer in Ealing where I found the most amazing winter coat after I couldn’t find the bras I came for. I then made my way home by myself. The transport system here is really great. Gets you everywhere ...

 

10^th October

Another day around town. I have decided to keep my tour ticket until my friend comes so that we can go together.  So I had more shopping in mind: first Oxford Street again – the other end and then I went to Notting Hill to check out what the fuzz was all about. Turns out it is really that nice. Expensive and nice, slightly on the bohemian side. I couldn’t find Portobello market so before I got lost any further I traced back my steps towards Notting Hill Gate, but not before dropping into one of the small little restaurants to have a salad and a glass of wine.

I was just about to turn right towards the Tube station when I spotted a shop which carried second hand designer wear. Shoes, clothes, everything. I found one DKNY and one Karen Miller pair of shoes for 25£ each.

After that I made my way to Covent Garden to see what’s that all about: great wine & dine area. Beautiful restaurants from traditional to trendy. But as everything here: unaffordable. Covent Garden Market on the other hand is highly overrated. I couldn’t find anything special there. So from Covent Garden I returned back to South Harrow only to get changed and meet Jasmin in South Hall for dinner at her house. It was slightly odd for me to get filled in with the latest family gossip when I had moved on so much over the last year.

 

11^th October

 

Then, finally it was the morning that my friend arrived in London. I went to Gatwick to meet him at the airport. He was stuck in immigration for over an hour. I couldn’t wait to see him. How does someone become such a part of you? Such a part that you can’t function without him?

I had waited for him there for altogether two hours. But what else had I to do anyway? So it didn’t matter. And then all the waiting and the longing of the last month suddenly was worthwhile as he took me in his arms and kissed me – for the first time in our relationship we were able to do that in public. How nice it is to walk with him hand in hand, his arm around me. By the time we got back it was early afternoon and we just spend the rest of the day in the house. At night another friend came round and we sat until 4 am chating, drinking, eating.

 

12th October 

As a result we didn't make it out of the house until 12 noon but then set out for our city tour. While it sounds quite touristy it is really the best way to explore a big city like London without losing overview. And the good thing here was that you could get on and down in many places.

After three hours we got down at the Houses of Parliament and turned right into St. James' Park. What I liked particularly about London are the parks - very beautiful, big and quiet. Great places to spend a couple of hours. So we just strolled, talked, doing the things a couple free of all society's shackles does. When we passed Buckingham Palace at the park's other end it was starting to get dark and we made our way back

That evening we went for Indian food in a suburb called Wadford together with another friend. Not impressive, unfortunately, but ok. Afterwards it was another evening with the guys talking about Afghan politics and many more issues.

 

13th October

Our departure day. We were scheduled to leaving from Heathrow at 8pm via Baku back to Kabul.

As we had had another long night we got out of bed yet again only by lunch and once breakfast and other cosy things were done it was 3pm and we had to start packing. Before we went to the airport I brought my friend to the Gurudwara which he said he wanted to visit. Such a nice gesture of him - something very few Muslims are open to.

Then at the airpot it turned out that we could have taken another flight via Baku with only 5 hours layover leaving on Sunday; further, in order to leave the airprot we had to get a visa afterall even though I had double checked with the travel agent in Kabul and was told that no visa was required for our passports. Both added 250$ to our bill. But it was too late now - well now back in Kabul I am trying to get that money re-imbursed from the agent.

At 5.30 am on 14th October we arrived in Baku and went straight to the hotel which was not bad at all and in a good location in walking distance to the city centre.

Baku is surprisingly nice and modern with many old European style buildings in the centre and many designer shops and boutiques. I was suprised about the exchange rate of the Maghat, too: 1US$ = 0.80 Maghat. Amazing - must be the Caspian oil.

Due to our late night flight during which we barely slept we went to bed after taking breakfast in the hotel and slept unitl 2pm. Then we made our way around town. First along the board walk along the seaside, which features a park with fun fair attractions, then to the city centre where we took lunch and then wandered off into a pedestrian zone with street vendors and nice shops. We walked around until 8pm and then returned to the hotel.

The next day we  made our way back to Kabul

 

The North West Frontier - Part 2

 

17 September

Arriving in Delhi was smooth. We were met as planned by the hotel's pick-up. The Ajanta Hotel in Delhi, like the rest of the Paharganj hotels, has a great location, but do not expect ambience. It is located near the New Delhi railway station and as such gives quick access to the trains leaving to other parts of India. Also it is situated right between Old and New Delhi and only minutes away from Connaught Place.
All these hotels in Parhaganj are of the same caliber. Basic, to say the least, but the Arjanta is bearable. There is internet access, a travel service, too, and it was reasonably clean.
Just don't eat the breakfast - why would anyone go to India and have toast and jam for breakfast anyway. Try their Aloo Prahta instead, ask for Yoghurt for dipping and Indian Chay - much more authentic that way and tastier, too. They may tell you the "Indian set" is not available but play your Indian charm - if you speak Hindi even better - and they'll make it for you.
Parharganj is an experience in itself. India in a nutshell: narrow roads, dirty, thousands of people at any given time; rickshaws (motorists or peddle), taxis, beggars and the unavoidable cows. If you feel exhilarated by the Indian chaos, that's the place to be. Another one of those places is of course Old Delhi altogether, especially Chandi Chowk.
This road runs all the way to Lal Quila (red fort) and offers everything and nothing. Stop by the Gurudwara (Sikh temple) there. This is one of the holiest places in Sikism.

If you have never visited Delhi you must do the obligatory: a tour of the sites.
In old Delhi that is essentially Lal Qila, from there you can walk along the Bhags of the Yammuna River or take a bicycle rikshaw ride down the side road. On the Bhags there are various Samadis of famous people such as Indira Gandhi or Mahatma Gandhi.
In New Delhi it will be India Gate and the obvious walk from there to the Secretarial Buildings.
Once you have reached there you will be more or less soaked - depending on the time of year you are visiting. You may choose to take a ride to Connaught Place from there and do some shopping and of course more walking.
But getting around Delhi is real easy - the motor rickshaws are the best way - 50 rupees will get you most anywhere around town, even though that's still a bit more than locals would pay. But unless you want to be arguing with the Motor Wala for a while 50 rupees is a good deal unless the distance is very short - they will then do it for 20 or 30.
Another site might be the Indira Gandhi house. She was assassinated there and the spot where she fell is marked rather dramatically with a glass bridge leading up to it. I find it always chilling seeing spots like that where somebody was assassinated. But why is it that we feel that way - because the person was famous? What about the thousands of people who die everyday more or less natural causes? It is probably the tragedy-factor which comes into play with the more famous individuals. We like to ponder on why someone who had everything had to die such a tragic death.


20th September

We headed out of town to Agra. The best way to do it - we found - was to take the Shadabi Express from New Delhi Railway station. That way you see the country side (you can open the train doors - nobody will stop you - and watch India go by - the slower the train of course the less dangerous). If one does not want to fall pray to pre-booked and overpriced tours to Agra it is easy to pick up a guide for a day for less then 400 rupees at Agra train station. That excludes the ridiculous entrance fee to the Taz - all entrance fees for that matter - of 750 rupees for foreigners. And they will spot you alright: look Indian or not they will check your passport latest at the bodysearch point.
Believe it or not - cheesy or not - the Taz is worth the trip. It really is a breathtaking monument even without the heartrending love story attached to it. The marble inlay work is an unbelievable art form. Of course they will want to bring you to one of the marble shops.
We did not buy anything there: one - it's too heavy to carry, two - these table tops or whatever else they produce may seem like a good idea at the time - but, hey, picture it in your flat before you give into the temptation.
Even the Red Fort was impressive. Especially the part where Shah Jahan was imprisoned by his own son Aurangseb and he was left to gaze at the Taz Mahal to the day he died. The view from his balcony to the Taz is still stunning despite the road leading by below nowadays. This is a heartrending story and everybody who ever suffered the death of his / her lover will understand what it means to yearn for this persons company for the rest of your life.

21st September

We are finally heading to Kabul. We left half our luggage at the Ajanta Htoel in Delhi as we are going to return here on the 30th.
A 1 1/2 hour flight with Ariana got us there. When approaching Kabul airport one passes impressive mountain scenery. And these are only the foothills of the Hindu Kush.
Security at the airport was tight, understandably.
Not knowing what to expect realisticly dress-wise I just brought long-sleeve salwar kameez. And those were fine for the entire trip. Once you hit Kabul, though you will notice that various levels of dress are acceptable. There is the up-coming urbanite with bell-bottom pants, long shirt over it and headscarf barely covering her head with trendy boots and then there are the Chatari wearing ladies, covered from head to toe. So there is much room to fit in as a foreigner - but I always believe in "When in Rome ..." and especially when traveling outside of Kabul traditional dress is the best way to go. But if you are coming from India and / or if you are familiar with Indian culture none of this is too far off for you: Instead of slinging your chuni around your neck you put in around your head. It's as easy as that. And when you do respect this culture you will not have any problems.
We were one of the first to clear customs - you know, people from Singapore know how to beat the queue. You just try to beat everybody else to the counter - we call this kiasu (Hokkian dialect for "afraid to lose out").
But then we were stopped in our drive when we did not see anybody from our guest house Chez Ana to pick us up despite repeated promise. As it turned out later - the fellow in charge had written to us one day before to re-confirm the pick-up. Since nobody replied - we were fighting cows and others in Paharganj at the time - he just assumed the pick up would not be necessary.
Luckily, however the people from Afghan Logistics who were going to bring us on the trip to the Panjshir were quick to turn up at the airport to help us out.
So in the meantime we had time to place ourselves below a tree outside the airport terminal and observe the dealing and wheeling around us.
The first thing which brought a smile to my heart was a giant poster of Ahmed Shah Massoud, declaring him the national hero of Afghanistan. Hamid Karzai portrayed next to Massoud had to make due with a smaller size poster.
Other than that we noticed many UN cars parked around.
The first thing that strikes you coming from more humid countries is the dry air in Kabul. Cracking lips, flying hair. It was still rather warm but not as much as Delhi where it must have been at least 35C still. Here it was in the high 20ies.
As in India, I was immediately taken in by the atmosphere this place exhuded. It is hard to put in words and is subject to very personal preference. Driving in from the airport the city was buzzling with everying from cars to horse carriages to the occational tank.

Despite widespread damage and the dusty climate, Kabul does not appear dirty, though. Amazingly after 22 years of war Kabul does not appear to be more run down than many of the Indian towns you might visit. Overall, when you start talking to the people you find that they seemed to have kept their dignity after all the hardship they endured. You meet so many who have plans for their future who are full of ideas ...
We arrived at our guesthouse within 30 minutes. It was very cosy - that slightly run-down type of style with a nice garden. After settling into our room I immediately hogged the swing in the garden. Rocking back and forth I looked up into the blue sky and thought of the fact how unussually not strange it felt to be in Kabul. In fact so far it all felt very pleasant.
A bit of a bumper came our way that afternoon when we wanted to collect our air-tickets from Kabul to Amritsar (our next destination after Kabul). Even though the guesthouse had confirmed that they had pre-booked it for us, the Ariana office told us that day that there was no flight to Amritsar ...
So after some deliberation we decided to scout around for other airlines to fly us out of here on Saturday as intended. The only feasible solution was flying back with Indian Airlines to Delhi and then take a bus ride to Amritsar - but more of that later.

A good part of our afternoon was filled with that so when it came to evening time we decided to go for a short walk around town - and yes it's possible. Forget about all the bad news for a while. We never for one moment felt threatend in any way or even unsafe - whereever we went in Afghanistan (well admitedly we did not go beyond the Panjshir, but still).

After our airline excursion our driver offered us to bring us around town.
So we went to West Kabul and contrasting that to Karte Parwan.

West Kabul was really shocking - to see that much of distruction will disturb anybody.

 

Whereever we stopped to take pictures we would draw an audience. But everybody was so friendly and curious to see our pictures - oh joys of the digital camara!
Karte Parwan on the other hand still shows that it was a rich neighbourhood before all the conflict of 22 years. Being Sikhs we wanted to visit the last remaining Gurudwara there. The other five were distroyed during the shelling of the city in the 90s. The prayerhall was closed that day - with small congregations that is practised. But we found a few men there who invited us in for tea and a chat. We decided to come back on Saturday for the service.

 

 

For me this temple has extra meaning: Massoud used the Langar (community kitchen which every Gurudwara features) as a bombshelter in the mid-90s. His family home as a boy was also in Karte Parwan. Our driver brought us there. Now of course it is owned by different people.

In the evening we could not resist to walk to the famed Mustafa Hotel for dinner.
It was disappointing, to say the least. For the fact that their name is mentioned by everybody you speak to before coming to Kabul the place turns out to be holding attractions only to journalists. It has no atmosphere, only serves Western food and had the most unfriendly reply to my phone calls and e-mails I have encountered in my preperations for this trip. While every other guesthouse, hotel and other contact was very obliging and friendly the Mustafa was not. Seems like Waiz's New Jersey attitude got the better of him. That is why I eventually decided to book us into another place.

22nd September

 

We set out to the Panjshir Valley at 7.00 a.m. in the morning. A rather chilly morning already, but beautiful. I still could not believe that my dream would come true. I had been dying to go there even though the reason cut my heart to the core. My purpose was to visit Massoud's tomb.
On the way there we passed through the Shomali plain, small villages and - after we left the tarmak road and got onto the rubble road which was to lead us into the valley - scores of Russian tanks. If you are not with an experienced driver you surely will miss the sharp right you have to take to set you onto the right road. Otherwise you'll end up in Mazar-e-Sharif.
After five hours we arrived at the Panjshir Valley "checkpoint". You have to explain yourself as to why you are visiting. A big Massoud-billboard is mounted on top of the checkpoint.
This valley is just beautiful. At this time of the year the rushing waters of the river are framed by the lushest green, while the mountains are bare as always. The high blue clear skies are exilerating. At night all you hear is the sound of the river, no cars, no other sounds of "civilisation".

We stayed in the guesthouse fo the Northern Alliance which had a beautiful view onto the surrounding mountains.

 

 

From here on everything is very personal to me, too personal to write much. My visit to Massoud's tomb, to his house, to the Northern Alliance guesthouse ... His footsteps are all over this valley.

When we arrived at his tomb I was expecting the little white mausoleum with the green roof which I had seen in a number of photographs. But I was disappointed: they had torn down the old building and were in the process of building a new, more grand mausoleum. I was close to tears. But then it turned out to be a blessing in disguise: for the last time, whoever visited the tomb, could be very close. In the new building his body will be removed into the basement (with access for prayer only for family members) while the coffin on the ground level will be a replica.

So there I was looking at the grave of the man I can't begin to discribe my feelings for, just covered with a green tent cloth. I stumbled accross the rubble of the construction side and our guide told all the workers to stop working. I took the rose I brought along and placed it on his grave; still not realising that I was here, that this would be as close as I would ever get to him, I just stood there, the tears roling down my cheeks. What an endless waste !

The next day I asked our driver to bring me once more to the tomb - once just was not enough. Who knows, maybe this would stay my only visit here.

When we got there they all left me alone, there were no workers either. I squatted down with my back against a remaining piece of wall and just stared at his grave. All grief that I had been feeling ever since that terrible day in September 2001 came to the surface and I started crying uncontrollably. I must have sat there for a least half an hour.

When I finally tore myself away - I could have sat there for hours - I touched the green tent cloth expanded over his tomb. It was covered in the dust of the Panjshir - his beloved Panjshir.

After returning from the valley I visited AINA - a media and education NGO aimed at training journalists and photographers as well as educating Afghanistan's children. In doing so they aim at nurturing a democratic civil society.

AINA was founded by Reza Deghati, the well-known photographer famous for his work for National Geogrpahic and other international magazines. I had come to know about his NGO as I traced his steps when I learned that he was a personal friend of Massoud.

Upon my return to Singapore I have started to organise a fund-raiser for AINA in the hope to keep them afloat finacially as they have run into major financing problems.