Kabul. 2011
I have fallen in love.
It's beautiful here. OK, ignore the weapon I have to carry at all times, the suicide bombers, rocket attacks and constant threat of imminent, ugly death. Ignore all the doom and gloom emails and the depressing conversation. Ignore all that and just stop for a minute. Take a look around. It's baking hot but I turn a full circle and all I can see are snow topped mountains rising way above me.
When I say rising above me I mean it - and don't forget we are at about 5900 feet (or 1800m) above sea level. For those who know it, and as a comparison, the tip of Pen Y Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons is at 2907 ft. That means it's about 3000 feet below me. I parachuted from a plane at a lower height than I am standing at now. I am, literally, more than a mile high and I am still surrounded by mountains rising up. I am on a plateau in a narrow valley wedged between theHindu
Kush mountains. If I can use a crap description - It's like being
in a bowl. If I don't use a crap description - it's
magnificent. The sky is completely and utterly blue, a rich,deep blue
with not a single cloud in the sky. The lines of the mountains are the
only things that cut straight through the sky, the black and white of the peaks
in stark contrast. It's a mountaineers fantasy, a trekkers paradise, a
backwoodsmans dream. Untouched by tourism, unsullied by industry,
unspoiled by progress.
Hindu Kush may translate as "Hindu
slaughter", a dark hint at its 5000 year tragic past and a pointed
reminder of the many genocides that have occurred here, but there is no denying
their looming presence and timeless beauty. An Afghan poet once wrote of Kabul and the Hindu Kush
- "May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!" Too
late. I have seen it and I am smitten. I have joined the Mile High
Club. No sex though. Different club.
It's beautiful here. OK, ignore the weapon I have to carry at all times, the suicide bombers, rocket attacks and constant threat of imminent, ugly death. Ignore all the doom and gloom emails and the depressing conversation. Ignore all that and just stop for a minute. Take a look around. It's baking hot but I turn a full circle and all I can see are snow topped mountains rising way above me.
When I say rising above me I mean it - and don't forget we are at about 5900 feet (or 1800m) above sea level. For those who know it, and as a comparison, the tip of Pen Y Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons is at 2907 ft. That means it's about 3000 feet below me. I parachuted from a plane at a lower height than I am standing at now. I am, literally, more than a mile high and I am still surrounded by mountains rising up. I am on a plateau in a narrow valley wedged between the
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