So, a long time ago I promised to share my impressions and pictures from my trip through the Khyber pass to Islamabad with you. The trip in itself was a bit of a spontaneous idea, which probably made what was already an exciting project, quite a gripping experience! It involved dressing up, taking on the role that your dress signaled, which for my case was that of a local young wife who silently followed her husband’s orders behind the mask of her burqa. My travel companion – who is currently not my husband – was likewise dressed in local gear (a so called Peron Tumbon - a long shirt over loose wide trousers) and successfully completed the illusion of being a young couple on the road! Which was necessary for us, as a young man and woman cannot be seen together here, other than if they are directly related – by either blood or matrimony…

It might appear absurd that one needs to take on other personalities in order to travel on a stretch of road and across a boarder – however, just this particular bit of road and this particular boarder connect two of the most politically unstable provinces in the entire region! And “cultural mistakes”, let’s say, can have fatal effects. One does not want to draw too much attention to oneself, and especially not give away the fact that one is a foreigner – because that can both be a simple provocation to the locals and a direct means of inflicting more severe consequences like kidnappings etc. In addition to this, the roads are also heavily traveled routes – fiercely inspected by ISAF armored vehicles – which just adds to the unsafe condition one is in, while moving between Kabul and Jalabad and Torcham (the boarder).

We traveled with what the locals call a “corolla-car” which is basically a privately owned Toyota Corolla acting like a taxi picking up some four people and then runs back and forth between the one and the other destination. All of this sounding rather Klondike, the trip in itself was spectacular: coiling steep mountain roads taking us over flinty tops and through narrow rocky gorges to wide valleys with strips of green siding the riverbanks. Speeding through alleys of tall tumarux trees with kilometers of water melon vendors on each side all having stacked their good in acrobatic constellations, and passing arid villages where one leaves with the guilty feeling of being privileged and able to flee if the whole thing becomes too much - an option that is just not existing for these people. Life in Eastern Afghanistan away from the occasional oasis-like spots is generally poor and heavily prone by the hot climate that dries out anything and leaves little fertile possibility to grow.

Once one has arrived at the boarder safely the next act initiates. To cross the boarder on foot (some 2 km) without being revealed as what I was – A FOREIGNER – by others than the specific customs officers, who’s business it is to check such things. Things went incredibly smoothly and all of a sudden we were equipped with our own Kalashnikov carrying security guard who then rode with us for the hour, it takes from entering into the North Western Frontier till reaching the capital of the province, Peshawar, through the Khyber Pass! He smoked a joint with the third travel mate and I kept silent, while my “husband” was fuming with rage over the hash being smoked in the car. All in all a very full experience of: absorbing the historic and mythical site, being tense about stepping out of character, and being in such close vicinity to a Pakistani fire arms, feeling slightly car sick from the smoke and the heat (45º) and being anxious to arrive at the final destination – luxurious Islamabad!

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