arrival in the land of mountains & dudes
sorry no photos today folks - my eyes are still focusing. first day in afghanistan & where do i begin? i only hope that you yes you aren't subscribing to this blog because i'd really like to be able to edit this post after the fact without you knowing it. no way I'm gonna get this right on the first try.
So, arrived in Kabul this afternoon from Delhi. Flew Indian Air, where security is strictly voluntary: they screen your luggage, then give it back to you before you check it, oh well. lovely in-flight meal though. spicy veggie rice & chickpea raita, & what's that darlin yoghurt dessert with the squishy rice noodles i love so? landing is a similarly DIY affair - dudes are out their seats while the plane is still taxiing. And they're almost all dudes on this flight. I grab my accordion from the overhead bin and join the leather-jacketed masses out onto the tarmac, where we're surrounded on all sides by the snowy granite faces of the Hindu Kush mountains. A silkscreen of President Karzai embossing the terminal seems positively trippy - he's tinted of purple and yellow like an icon by Andy Warhol. Under those glowing arms is a rather desperate-sounding quote, something to the effect of: "All the Afghan People are One Nation and We Desire to Live in Peace." We're herded into an unlit unheated concrete structure where men huddle around every available hard surface filling out their arrival forms. Sort of that apocalyptic bank lobby feel I recognize from certain eastern european countries but the people are much nicer, they make a space for me. When I finish scribing my form, in duplicate, a skinny guy in an olive green jacket - he's obviously freezing - grabs it and starts copying out the information onto a third card. Only he can't read English and some of the questions this card asks are different so there's confusion. We huddle together sorting it out and I wonder how many times he's done this procedure. I can't help feeling that we're sort of making up the rules as we go along, and the sense continues in the guard station - they scowl and glare at the passport of one passenger, but laughingly stamp mine without a glance. No customs form, no bag check, no questions about the bottle of duty-free single malt scotch I've smuggled into this muslim country.
Bottoms up, friends, and welcome to Afghanistan.
So, arrived in Kabul this afternoon from Delhi. Flew Indian Air, where security is strictly voluntary: they screen your luggage, then give it back to you before you check it, oh well. lovely in-flight meal though. spicy veggie rice & chickpea raita, & what's that darlin yoghurt dessert with the squishy rice noodles i love so? landing is a similarly DIY affair - dudes are out their seats while the plane is still taxiing. And they're almost all dudes on this flight. I grab my accordion from the overhead bin and join the leather-jacketed masses out onto the tarmac, where we're surrounded on all sides by the snowy granite faces of the Hindu Kush mountains. A silkscreen of President Karzai embossing the terminal seems positively trippy - he's tinted of purple and yellow like an icon by Andy Warhol. Under those glowing arms is a rather desperate-sounding quote, something to the effect of: "All the Afghan People are One Nation and We Desire to Live in Peace." We're herded into an unlit unheated concrete structure where men huddle around every available hard surface filling out their arrival forms. Sort of that apocalyptic bank lobby feel I recognize from certain eastern european countries but the people are much nicer, they make a space for me. When I finish scribing my form, in duplicate, a skinny guy in an olive green jacket - he's obviously freezing - grabs it and starts copying out the information onto a third card. Only he can't read English and some of the questions this card asks are different so there's confusion. We huddle together sorting it out and I wonder how many times he's done this procedure. I can't help feeling that we're sort of making up the rules as we go along, and the sense continues in the guard station - they scowl and glare at the passport of one passenger, but laughingly stamp mine without a glance. No customs form, no bag check, no questions about the bottle of duty-free single malt scotch I've smuggled into this muslim country.
Bottoms up, friends, and welcome to Afghanistan.
Labels: afghanistan, airport, hindu kush
1 Comments:
hey Gregory you alkie. Right now I'm sitting at my desk literally buzzing with frenetic energy. After two cups of that chai tea, my body goes into new realms of over drive. (I fed you the decaf so you know not its powers).
I can so picture every thing your describing, especially that psychedelic presidential banner, you know I love stuff like that. There is something slightly wonderful when a government or really any tottering authority figure takes the piss out of themselves. It just makes the world that much more "Brazil" style. So is this the skinny guy who's meant to be your fixer? If so, is he anything like the movies? All dark cloaked and full of middle eastern delights secreted away? Come on babe give me some romance.
Ok, ok, so yeah I've been obsessing over this stop motion animation project. I have all these ideas and yet I know all of them would take months and months of work. judah just laughs it all off, saying it can take a week's worth of solid days to come up with 6 seconds. he doesn't think we're ever going to finish. This does rather worry me as he would be the one to know, working in photography all his life. Right now he's revising a pixulated stop motion animation (I think. All I know is its not the stop motion I've always seen) and its going to be shown in an animation festival in Philly in about a month or two. hey if your back when they show it, I'll drag you along.
Ok so my master plan for the stop motion is...(mind you this is meant to be in my fashion portfolio so story line isn't exactly the object here) So there are around 6 small cloth figures (Judah will have to probably teach me to put in the mechanical joints etc) and they each have some fantastical bazaar outfit on. They all parade down a miniture cat walk each carrying a Octopus on their shoulder or in their arms. The front of the cat walk is in focus and the back ground is blurred mildly. You see them all walk up and down the cat walk and as the last ones are going by in your front view the first cloth "models" are being eaten by their octopuses in the fuzzy back ground. The octopuses are all then eaten by each other until there is only one grossly fat one puddling about the stage until a hook from off curtain drags the lump off the screen. THE END!
Brilliant?? Heart graspingly, throat chokingly, mind bendingly fantastic? You tell me:)
Talk to you soon mate, and safe travels.
Love Brett
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