Day 42 People
SYNOPSIS: I was in transit for most of the day. At the Ghazal hotel I met Francis, Bjorn and Katja and Mohammed, the suitor was back, too.TRAVEL IS ABOUT PEOPLE AS MUCH AS ABOUT PLACESI had to wait for the bus until about noon today – it’s Friday. Stores are closed, life slows down. It’s the holiday of the week in Muslim countries. I said good-bye to Hassan. He brought me to the bus station, of course, and I only barely could hold him back from packing me a big lunch for the trip. He did not like the picture I took of him at an unsuspecting moment at the bus station. But this captures him. He does not smile very much if at all. He was a most gracious and most generous host. I am grateful for the opportunity to stay with him. Unfortunately, 25 years later, he was no longer willing to talk about his family’s history or much else in detail. The hours of looking at the family photo album which Maria experienced are either over, or I was just not privy to it. From all I gather, his father was struck dead by a sniper in front of his house in Lebanon, his family present. That is certainly enough for anyone to bear. It reminded me of the beginning of my trip when I tried to picture the stories behind those thousands of bullet holes in Beirut. Now there is one... It is too bad that the political developments over the last few years in the world have eliminated any desire in Hassan to ever visit the United States.The three hour trip was uneventful, but I made a major decision: I will not be traveling to Afghanistan. Thanks, Solveig and Maria for your emails relating the news to me which I was trying to avoid: The Taliban attacked a guest house of foreigners in Kabul. That’s exactly the kind of attack I no longer can ignore. Fighting between Taliban and armed forces is to be expected. The occasional suicide bomb going off at an unpredictable place is part of that war, too. But specifically targeting a guest house full of foreigners to make a point – the point being that no place is safe and out of reach for the Taliban, not even in Kabul, and that foreigners are not welcome – is a different ball game. That is exactly what has changed in Pakistan too, since I visited two years ago. Then, politicians and specific institutions were targeted. I was safe except for coincidentally being in the wrong place at the wrong time during some still relatively rare, random bomb blasts. Now, foreigners are targets there too, violence has spread and my presence in both Pakistan and Afghanistan could be taken as a provocation. I would present a sitting duck. That’s why I backed out of going to Pakistan again, in the first place. And now I am backing out of Afghanistan. I am not suicidal. I also do not want to put others in danger by forcing my way ahead.With a very heavy heart I gave up on visiting Bamiyan; following what I started years ago: to travel in my beloved Professor Kane’s footsteps. To her I owe what I do as a teacher, to her I owe my love of the non-western world. From her I have dozens of images of the giant Bamiyan Buddhas before the Taliban blew them up. I was going to complete that set of images by recording what is left today. To give up that part of the trip was not easy.Not surprisingly, Professor Kane has been on my mind a lot on this trip. When we were students and she would come back from a summer’s or a sabbatical’s travel alone- we would find that odd. Why would anyone travel alone? She was a loner. She was different. That’s for sure. Still, we could not relate to that. She would travel a bit more in style than I do now, typically with a driver and a car. But here I am traveling alone, for the first time and I realize that that’s the only way to really travel. David, I promise, we will still go on vacations together – but travel and vacation is not the same. At this odd season and in these somewhat off the beaten path places, I meet quite a few of those fellow travelers. Some come in pairs, but many are on their way alone. I guess it’s a kind of a breed. JI checked into the hotel Ghazal again – it was like a home-coming. The three owner brothers welcomed me with big smiles, carried the by now 26 kg heavy suitcase up the stairs – and I got “my” old room back. A little hole in the wall, shower over sink and toilet – you remember my description of budget hotels. But the atmosphere here is wonderful. The location is great, I have my own place, and I feel safe. There are also interesting people here and the place is clean.Speaking of more people… As I entered the hotel a woman walked up with somewhat of a disappointed look on her face and said “You must be Elisabeth”. I see – she was hoping I would not show up and she could have my room. I felt bad. But we immediately started chatting. She is 58, another middle-aged, single, female traveler who just came from Iran. She is from Great Britain; needless to say, quite a character. For years she was part of a Buddhist sect, she has been just about anywhere in the world and her favorite 10 days of her entire life were spent on a freighter crossing the Atlantic. Of course we decided to have dinner together – which turned into most of the evening chatting. Based on her description, I will have a great time in Iran. I fully expected that, but it’s good to hear that from a person in my shoes.So far, I have had a lot of raised eye brows all along about my idea to travel in Iran. First from Sepideh and Nikki, two former Iranian students at WCC whose opinion I value very much. I won’t forget when I met up with them at their house in Ann Arbor to get some input and insights about travel in Iran and they both opened the door. As if they had rehearsed it, they both simultaneously said: “You are not still planning on going, are you?!” Setareh, my Iranian host in Beirut repeatedly expressed her concerns. All over Syria – whoever heard about my travel plans said that they would not go to Iran, never mind Afghanistan, of course. It’s not easy to keep a positive outlook with so much concern, worries and negative feedback expressed. But Francis confirmed what I thought all along. You just go and things fall into place in ways you would never expect. People are welcoming, the country is fabulous and by observing some basic precautions, nothing should go wrong. It might, but it is not likely.As we were chatting at the lobby of the Ghazal hotel, a young couple entered. We started talking to them about the date – it is funny, that between the four of us, we could not figure out if today was the 26th or the 27th of February, if Mohammed’s birthday was yesterday or today. From the Lonely Planet, to our watches, our camera and computer displays we got only conflicting messages… And as we were talking it turned out that the two were from Dresden, my home town! Bjorn and Katja. I asked them if they knew the “Blaues Einhorn” – that’s a band two of my brothers play in. Of course, they did. The band had played at Gare de la Lune a couple of years ago and they know Horn Paul well. Well – six degrees of separation just shrank into two. The world is a small place.And, if you have never heard of the “Blaues Einhorn” it’s time to check them out. Between the leader of the group Horn Paul and my multi-talented brothers you will find a surprising variety of musical styles. I will see if I can link them to my blog. A wonderful recent CD they produced is the recent program with music exclusively by Theodorakis, the most recognized contemporary Greek composer.I should mention, that at night when I was busy skyping at the smoky internet café, Mohammed, the suitor, came by – what a surprise. He had kept track of my travel dates, found me, and brought me a little present. Just that. Within five minutes he was gone again. Why have we lost this kind of human interaction? What does it take?!I have new confidence in the next and the biggest part of my trip: Iran. But first, I will stop over for a few days in Dubai.Good night.