While it is has come to the general publics attention now as being on the forefront of war, Afghanistan, historically, is no stranger to conflict. Throughout it's difficult history countless have tried to conquer it's lands, all of which, including Americans, Russians, British and Central Asians have failed. What the future may hold, I'm not sure, but here's is what I saw in the limited time that I had there.Entry to Afghanistan was via Tajikistan. More specifically the border crossing directly south of Dushanbe, at Nizhni Panj. I had read (incorrectly) that the border was only open for a short time mid-day. So i headed off far too early for any normal person. In Dushanbe, my taxi driver took me to the place where shared taxis are supposed to congregate. Taxis were there, but no one to share with. Under the illusion of a time crunch, i was ready to pay the $60 for the car. But at the last second a rather rotund Tajik businessman showed up. At least i wouldn't have to pay the whole thing. I took a couple of hours to reach the border, enough time for me and businessman to bond. In fact he wasn't a businessman but some police-type anti-terrorism man. I didn't fully understand as all conversation was in Russian.
My new best friend used his "credentials"and we whisked through Tajik border control, boarded a mini-bus through no-man's land, to the awaiting boat. That's right, you have to take a $10/person boat to Afghanistan. Once again, on the other side things were sped along and we grab a taxi to Kunduz. The landscape was rather stark. Flat and fairly featureless it became clear one of Afghanistan's chief exports must be dust. We arrived in Kunduz and i informed my travel buddy i planned to stay
we traversed the Salang pass. And the tunnel was awesome, no lighting, no ventilation, partially flooded with potholes the size of meteor craters. But still we zipped past overloaded Pakistani trucks and overflowing pick-ups carrying field workers. The driver felt it necessary to point out all of the recent road side bomb attacks. "Hopefully not us today, God wiling!" He joked. I, again, failed to see the humour. After passing through countless hillside villages we reached our destination, Kabul.
Afghanistan's capital, Kabul, was once a stop-over during the hippy days. It was a "not-to-be-missed" hangout on the way to Katmandu. It's not hard to imagine. The city rests in a valley ringed with mountains. But the hippy days are over and today Kabul is a different place. I had arranged to meet a couchsurfer the following day, so I needed to find a hotel for the night. My plump new friend brought to the centre of town, and the only place you'll find other travellers (not now though). My hotel, though overpriced, was fine. Most importantly it was secure and at the end of the day who can put a price on that. As night was falling, and curfews put into place, i was content watching satellite television with the hotel workers.
In the morning I explored my neighbourhood. With Kabul surrounded by hills, many of the homes are built on the slopes. One peaking out from behind the one in front nearly to the peak. But the city centre is like that of any other city. Except 
for the masses of various security organizations roaming the streets. Just around the corner from my hotel was Chicken Street. This was once were the hippy trail led to. The road was lined with cafes and shops, and was kind of a foreign quarter. Now, while there are no hippies or even tourists, the shops remain. Fighting for the business of the couple of reporters or contractors who look for souvenirs for family back home. It's a relatively secure area, but in Kabul nothing is safe 
anymore. By noon, i met up with a couchsurfer (there's couchsurfing in Afghanistan!!) Who was able to point me in the direction of come "safe" places to visit. Due to security reason or decades of war, there really aren't many other attractions. One place he advised was Babur Gardens. Associated with the Mughal emperor of Taj Mahal fame, it is possibly the only place of peace and tranquility in the sea of chaos that is Kabul. Against my hosts recommendations, I took a taxi there. With no problems, until I tried leaving. There were no taxis in sight and soon a group was gathering around me. I 
finally waved down a car who wanted an extortionate amount of money. A local guy then started yelling at the driver, creating even more unwanted attention. The stranger then turned to me "No problem, $1. Goodbye." Once back to my hosts compound, we called his driver to take us to his favourite spot in town. On one of the hills in the city is an empty swimming pool. It has collected some rain water which is a refreshing diversion for the local (only males, clearly). The best part was the children would then run to one of the nearby old Russian tanks to warm up. The metal absorbing the suns rays. The hill had great views over the city 
and the tanks were a nice touch. That night, Simon (my couchsurfing host) took me to a party with most of the French workers in Kabul. I was an eye-opening event, but I'll expand on that later. The next day was filled with secure taxi rides around the city. Some areas you just CAN NOT stop and walk around, so i settled for my own little "drive-by" approach to tourism. 
Burka clad beggars sitting by the road, impromptu tent village and more destruction that I've ever witnessed. But still life goes on. Markets were busy, the roads were full and people continued to live despite constant threat of danger. But the paranoia and uncomfort became too much, I planned my escape back north.
Transport north from Kabul was in the form of another shared taxi, though the depot is just outside the city with little to no security. My journey took me along the same road i took before, before it split off to head a little more west. The city of Mazār-e Sharīf was where i was heading. It's the fourth largest city in Afghanistan, relatively close to the Uzbek border. Balkh Province is the heart of Hashish production, but that's not why i went. The modern city of Mazar-e Sharif is centred around the 
Shrine of Hazrat Ali, the cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad. Much restored, it is one of Afghanistan’s most glorious monuments. The north has usually enjoyed relative calm. It was one of the first places "liberated" from the Taliban, so walking around the city was an enjoyable experience. The Shrine, itself is beautiful. Wonderfully blue tiled walls glimmer in sun. It is a holy place. So holy that it is said that if a dark=coloured bird lands there, it will become white in 40 days. There are a lot of 
white birds. Due to it's holy status, it is a pilgrimage sight for many. It is a tremendously powerful place to visit, and easily the highlight of my Afghan experience. I was in Afghanistan during the holy month of Ramadan. So the shrine was especially busy. At sunset all the worshippers would gather for a meal on the grounds. Hundreds sitting, waiting for the ev
ening call to prayer to break the daily fast. I kept my distance, though I was invited in, I wanted to respect the sanctity of the event. My own dinner was at a local "shashlik" 
restaurant where I met a local English teacher. Though his English was terrible, it was the first real conversation I was able to have with a local. More on that later. I was disappointed to leave Mazar. It's beauty and relative peacefulness were refreshing, but it's not like i could stay forever. So after a good nights rest at a slightly overpriced hotel (security costs), I started to head back to Tajikistan.
My travel path took me, once again, along the same road. It's one of the most secure in the 
country. But instead of heading right back to Tajikistan, I opted to spend one more night. This time in the town of Kunduz, the place i passed through when i entered. There isn't really anything to see. There are apparently old forts just outside town, but i was told they are now used but various security forces, so off limits. I was left with simply wandering around town, to the market and back to my compound like B&B, which was a pain to find. 
Anything mentioned in the guidebooks was fully booked. But with the best shower I think I've ever had, the extra effort to find the place was worth it. In the evening, with curfew imposed, I chatted with the night guard, over tea, with surprisingly good English. One by one his friends came to visit as it seemed none of the other guests ever bothered to talk to him. A tragedy considering the local insight. It was late before i got to sleep, wishing I were able to stay longer and see more. As the sun rose I headed back to the border with Tajikistan. And after some time convincing the border 
guards I re-entered and headed back to Dushanbe. But that's another story...
TIPS: One very simple tip. Don't go!! It may sound hypocritical, but I've spent 15 years on the road, been to countless hot-spots and had done considerable research while making local contacts. Afghanistan, especially within the last 6 months, has become a serious danger to foreigners.
My View: This will get a blog entry all unto itself.