#farsi greeting cards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drowning-in-dennor · 4 years

Text

Where We Belong

Going to high school as the new kid isn’t easy, but luckily for Harald, he manages to find someone to help him survive the experience. [Written for @hetabang, with art drawn by @pixeltalia.]

Part One: Gratitude

For the millionth time, Harald reminds himself to thank his brother.

When they got the news of Stellan’s promotion, Harald thanked him once for putting food on their table. When they moved, he thanked him a second time for getting them a place to live. And now, as he stares up at his new school building, Harald’s just about ready to pull out his new cell phone, text his brother and spam him with “thank you”’s until he gets blocked.

Filios International School, the plaque reads, nailed to the iron-wrought gates of the school campus, and it doesn’t take a genius to know, with one look, that the place isn’t somewhere just anyone can get into.

Oh, but Harald did. He remembers passing the entrance exam, though barely so, and getting his admission letter. Stellan ruffled his hair and smiled the day they got the news, saying, “a brand new start for the two of us.”

It’s not until somebody clears their throat behind him does Harald stop staring up at the campus and actually start walking inside, following groups of his classmates into the grand school building.

The interior of the school is just as extravagant as its exterior, with winding staircases that lead up to classrooms with elegantly-carved doors. On the first floor, Harald looks around him, seeing walls adorned with vibrant murals; the floor, mosaicked with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny tiles; the ceiling, made of glass and allowing sunlight to shine in and bathe the school in its golden light.

Everywhere Harald looks, students are milling around. Some of them shriek as they reunite with old friends, some of them walk hand-in-hand with lovers and some lean against the wall, checking their cell phones.

As he looks at his classmates, most of them walking upstairs and disappearing down corridors, Harald realises that he has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. Awkwardly, Harald trails behind a group of girls up the stairs. There, the two carved-glass doors that stand in front of them turn out to be common rooms - one for girls, and one for boys.

Harald pushes the one on the left open, stepping inside to see some boys lounging around on plush-looking armchairs, some of them rummaging for books in lockers and some of them reading at desks. He approaches the left wall, filled from ceiling-to-floor with locker cubicles, and pushes his half-empty backpack into the one labelled with his name.

After that’s done, he stares around the common room, thinking, well, the hell do I do now? He settles for leaning against the lockers, trying to look as confused as possible and hoping someone takes pity on him.

Ten minutes later, when half the boys have left the common room for their classes, Harald’s still leaning against the wall and feeling even more baffled than before.

The bell chimes after five minutes, and the only boy left in the room shuts off his computer. Harald watches as his last hope to figure out his school picks up his folders, gets up from his seat and prepares to leave.

Steeling his nerves, Harald decides to clear his throat and step away from the lockers. “Uh, excuse me?”

Luckily, the boy turns around. “Yeah?”

He fumbles for his timetable, stammering, “I’m in class 2B, and I’m not really sure where my classroom is, so, uh, do you mind telling me where to go?”

The boy stares at him for a moment, before heading toward the door. Harald thinks that he’s doomed, before the boy says, looking back, “follow me.”

Without a moment of hesitation, he scurries behind the boy and follows him down sunlit corridors, passing brightly-painted doors and blank bulletin boards, before they reach a blue door with “2B” painted on it with bright-yellow paint. “Here we are.”

“Thank you so much.” Harald pushes the door open, relieved to find out that the teacher has yet to arrive.

The boy, however, marches in before him, past students who murmur greetings and kicking desks out of the way, before plopping down in a seat at the back. “Hey,” he calls, “what’re you waiting for?”

Realising that he’s still standing agape at the doorway, Harald walks into the classroom, staring at the ground until he reaches the seat next to the boy’s. When he stares up at him, Harald adds, hurriedly, “wait, if you don’t want me sitting here I can mo — “

“Nah.” The boy pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, fiddling with the shiny screen. “I can help you out in class, or something. What’s your name?”

Stunned into silence, Harald pulls out his student card and shows it to the boy.

“Okay.” The boy shrugs. “My name’s Leon. Nice to meet you, Haraldur.”

“Harald,” he corrects, “just call me that.”

Leon shrugs again, still typing rapidly on his cell phone. “Sure.”

They remain in awkward silence for a while, and Harald’s about to say something when the teacher walks into the classroom.

…

“How was class?”

Harald stares at his lunch and replies, “good.”

“Are the teachers nice?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You didn’t get lost, did you?”

“Nope.”

Stellan eyes his brother suspiciously over his cup of coffee. “You sure everything went okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re giving me one-word answers.” He pokes Harald in the forehead.“When that happens, you’re usually upset about something.”

“Well, I’m not.” Harald takes a sip of his water. “Things actually went better than I expected. I managed to make a new friend.”

That gets Stellan’s attention. He leans in, clearly holding back a smile. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m not that antisocial, y’know.” He rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling too. “He’s just some guy in my class. His name is Leon. And, uh,” he adds, “he spent most of the classes just using his phone under the desk.”

“Really?” Stellan remarks again. “I hope he won’t be a bad influence.”

“He won’t, he won’t,” Harald says quickly, “the teachers all seem okay with him. He let me sign up for theatre with him, too.”

That gets his attention. “You’re already part of a club?”

Harald almost laughs at his brother’s disbelieving expression. “Yep.”

“You’re better than me, then. When I was in high school I spent all my time in the library.” Stellan gets out of his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “My shift starts in fifteen minutes, so I have to go.” He heads towards the diner’s cashier, pulling notes out of his wallet. “Have fun in school.”

As he watches him leave, Harald begins packing his bag, ready to follow.

Part Two: Guidance

Harald glares at the angry red “F”.

It seems to glare back.

Leon slings an arm around his shoulders, waving his test paper that flaunts a bold “A”. “Failed again?”

“Don’t rub it in, idiot.” Harald elbows his friend in the gut and stuffs the test paper at the back of his folder. “I suck at Chinese, I get it.”

“Why did you pick it, then?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” He scowls. “I wanted to pick Farsi, but they were full and I got tossed here.”

“This is, like, the third time you’ve flunked a quiz,” Leon says, “don’t you think that you need to change the way you study or something?”

The suggestion is met with a deepened scowl. “I’ve tried that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” Harald snaps, though he instantly regrets the outburst. Leon pats him on the shoulder and tugs at his frown, clearly still glowing over his good grade. Harald lets him mess with his face, not in the mood to yell any more.

“Yo.”

“Hmm?”

“You need help in Chinese.”

“Clearly.”

“I have an idea.”

“That’s never a good thing.”

He thumps Harald on the back. “Shut up. As I was saying, I have an idea to help you bring up your Chinese grades.”

Harald raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“I was thinking that I could tutor you.” It’s clear from the expression on his face that he thinks it’s an excellent idea.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

Leon frowns. “Why, though? I’m practically at the top of the class, and I’m your friend.”

“My only friend.”

“I’m your friend,” he insists, “and I want to help you out. So why don’t you come over to my place after school so I can help you out?”

He takes a moment to think of a rebuttal to that. He can’t. “Okay, okay, fine,” Harald finally says, “you can extend your goodwill to this illiterate, pitiful fool.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Leon reassures, although he’s grinning triumphantly. “You’re not pitiful, just illiterate.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Leon teeters back in his seat, lolling his head back. “I’m an amazing person, I know.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me that I have a presumptuous asshead as my best friend.”

“Any time.” Leon’s widened grin is annoyingly bright.

…

Two hours later, in Leon’s apartment, Harald begins to regret his decision.

His friend is clearly having too much fun showing off, bringing out his old Chinese textbooks from primary school and loudly proclaiming, “this is the stuff I learned in my first year of primary school. Maybe they can help.”

He glares at the textbooks, covered almost condescendingly in bright colours, bubbly fonts and cheerful characters. He flips the textbook open. The overly-large characters printed on glossy papers are barely recognisable.

“Is that still too hard for you?”

“Shut up, I’m already really embarrassed.”

“Why?” Leon sits down next to him, slamming down a packet of manuscript paper. “There’s no shame in having trouble learning a language.” He shrugs. “Hell, when we first moved here I could barely speak English, and look at me now.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “You don’t speak with an accent. I have an accent in both English and Chinese!”

“But there’s nothing wrong with an accent! That just means that you went through the hard work of learning a new language.” Harald jumps when Leon grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. “Look, I’m sorry for being an ass about your grades. You’re stuck with this language, so you might as well be good at it. I can help you with that.”

Harald shakes his hand off. “Right, okay, whatever. Where do we start?”

Leon grabs the nearest textbook, which appears to be targeted toward six-year-olds. Harald does his best to not feel even more embarrassed. “This one, probably. You’re not too bad with the basics.”

“You overestimate my skills.”

“Come on, you’re not that bad.” Leon flips the textbook open and yanks out a piece of manuscript paper. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Very reassuring.”

“I’ve seen waaaaaay worse, trust me.” He points to the passage. “Now, let’s start.”

…

“I think we made pretty good progress today.”

“I feel less illiterate.”

“See?” Leon crosses his arms, that perpetually victorious expression on his face even more so. “You’re not terrible at this, you just needed a little push in the right direction.”

Harald smiles a little, gathering his notes and stuffing them in his bag. “Thanks, Leon. Really.”

“Hey, no problem.” He winks, stacking up the textbooks and hefting them up. “D’you want to meet up again next week?”

“Sure.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and begins heading toward the door, raising a hand in a wave. “See you next time.”

Leon waves. “Bye.”

…

The next few lessons fly by, copyings and recitations making Harald even more familiar with the language. He stops getting zeros on his homework, discussions in class become less awkward and he stops being miserable while staring at his textbook.

After another successful tutoring session, Harald prepares to leave when he remembers something. “Oh, crap.”

Leon looks up from tidying up his desk. “What is it?”

“My brother’s working overtime today.” He claps his palm to his forehead, looking at the darkening sky from out the window. “He won’t get home until ten o’clock.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Leon shoves the pile of textbooks and exercise books into a drawer. “You can stay for dinner.”

Harald stares at him in disbelief. “I can what?”

“Stay for dinner,” he repeats, “Yao can cook for you, too.”

“No, no, I can’t, I’ll just go to the diner.”

He grabs Harald’s wrist, making him jump about a foot in the air. “Like hell you are. If you eat all that greasy diner food, you’ll get heart disease and die at age twenty-one.” Leon pauses. “Gosh, I sound like my brothers. But anyway, you’re going to stay for dinner.”

“I — “ he sighs, sharply elbowing Leon in the ribs. “Okay. I’ll stay. Only this time, though.”

…

More lessons, more improvement. Then one day, their teacher announces the arrival of a dreaded event — another quiz. Harald jots down the date in his planner, then the syllabus. It’s nothing that he and Leon haven’t covered, nothing that they’ve reviewed over and over again, but he can’t help feeling nervous.

After school, he takes the familiar route to Leon’s apartment, tossing his now-enormous folder of notes and textbook onto the table. Leon flops down, puffing his bangs away from his eyes. “The quiz is going to be so easy.”

“For you, maybe.” Harald pulls out a blank sheet of manuscript paper. “For me, it’s going to be a one-way ticket to failure.” He writes down the title with a little more force than necessary. “That is, assuming I’m not there already.”

“Hey, you’ll be fine. As long as you study enough and remember what we went over, you won’t fail.” Very unhelpfully, Leon adds at the end, “hopefully.”

“I just love how reassuring you are.”

“I love me, too.” He leans over to look at Harald, who’s jotting down notes of the first few chapters of his textbook. “But really, don’t worry about it. If you take the quiz all nervous and stuff, you’ll make a ton of careless mistakes.”

He has a point. Harald flips the page of his textbook, perhaps a little too violently, and blots out a mistake. The blue ink smudges when his hand brushes over it. Leon sits down next to him, reading a bright, garish comic book. Harald tries to ignore his whistling, at how at-ease he seems despite the upcoming assessment.

An hour and a half later, his hand cramping and four pages of notes packed with his writing, Harald gets up and packs. When he bends down to pick up his bag, pain shoots through his back and he winces. Across the table, Leon glances at him. “Really?”

“What do you mean, really?”

“Your back hurts, doesn’t it?” Leon stands up, tossing his comic book onto the table and scooping up Harald’s bag for him. “And I’m pretty sure your hand’s cramping, too. You have to take breaks sometimes, or you’re going to burn up.”

“Okay, Mom.” He stretches again, picking up his bag and walking away. “I’ll take care of myself or something. See you.”

…

Leon tilts back in his head so his head rests on Harald’s desk. “So how do you think you did?”

“I have no clue.” He pokes Leon’s forehead, then his nose, watching as his friend grows cross-eyed. “I just hope I passed.”

“That’s no good, you should give yourself higher standards.”

Harald prods him again. “I’ve never passed before, give me a break.”

“I guess.” At the front of the classroom, the teacher calls Leon’s name. He saunters confidently toward them, taking his test paper and staring at the results nonchalantly.

When it’s Harald’s turn to get his test paper, he folds the corner over the red letter, waiting until he gets back to his seat to read them. Once he sits down, he unfolds the cease and looks down.

“You’re kidding me.”

“What?” Leon turns around to look at his test paper. “How did you do?”

“I passed!” Harald shows him his test paper and the C+ on it, fighting a smile. “I actually passed, holy crap, this is amazing.” He sets down his paper before deciding to hug Leon. “Thanks for helping me out.”

Squeezing him back, Leon smiles.

#aph hongice #APH Hong Kong #APH Iceland #aph fanfiction #my writing #hetabang2020 #bringbackhetalia2k20

17 notes · View notes

brainjuice · 7 years

Photo

When you start doing calligraphy nobody tells you that one day you will suffer from performance anxiety every time you have to write greeting cards for your friends 😂... Se hai la passione per la calligrafia, sai cosa vuol dire farsi venire l'ansia da prestazione ogni volta che devi scrivere un biglietto d'auguri 😂 (Indovinate come si chiama la destinataria di questo 😂 @smcgiardia) #calligraphy #calligrafia #moderncalligraphy #pointedpen #greetingcards

#pointedpen #calligraphy #greetingcards #moderncalligraphy #calligrafia

7 notes · View notes

happynewyearmemz-blog · 6 years

Photo

Nowruz Mubarak. Persian New Year Card in Farsi. Arabic Pattern. Send your Nowruz Nowruz Mubarak. Persian New Year Card in Farsi. Arabic Pattern. Send your Nowruz Source by barboachofficial

0 notes

apkoffice-blog · 6 years

Text

3D Text On Pictures - Logo & Name Art APK

New Post has been published on https://www.apkoffice.com/app/3d-text-on-pictures-logo-name-art-apk/

3D Text On Pictures - Logo & Name Art APK

3D Name on Picture, 3d text on photo,text on photos, 3D Logo Maker and 3D Art Design 3d text gradient function.

To create your 3D Post with flying text beautiful 3d background images and 3d Text writing with many new fancy writing designs. Features which easy to design with your new fonts styles. In this application, you can combine 3D stickers the 3D effects on the photos with gradient function. Apply the gradient effects easily where you want filters, color effects, photo effects, or add texture color effects. Text gradient or image background gradient is the function from which you complete a professional text design post with editing features. Work on this photo effect make multi lingual quotes and use emoji’s or 3d emoji’s.

You can design a logo and make some 3D model and entertain your friend’s by your android mobile app. Draw and resize image when make full design then rotate the photo like your own style. Make a stylish picture 3D post using 3D camera feature or HD camera features. 3D name save in your mobile phone and share with other friends on social media engines for funny post. You can set the presets and convert your photos in 3D form. Art calligraphy custom fonts is also to create 3d signature making tool.

This application is also used to create 3D intro maker photo, stylish 3D text and 3D animated text very easy. Its use for fun, entertainment to create a good post and draw your own idea on the touch screen of your mobile. Easy for 3d text to make the different type of 3D post. You create a unique photography and easy to make 3d logo design, logo designs with colorful design and no wait for colorful post.

It depend on your mode and creative skills to make happy post or sad post or any other purpose post to Conway your thoughts with new modern and digital art calligraphy apps.

Features:

• 3D text editor with a new feature Gradient is very good designing function. • make 3D puffin birds like cats, ducks, dogs and many more. • Make your photos and selfies as a background to give them a 3d name • Load your camera and gallery pictures in 3D Terrain • 3D stickers and 3D models can be placed (first time in android) • Camera Position is changeable. Move it near to ground or high on sky to view post with different angles. Similarly Rotate Camera to any angle. • Make Post size according to your requirement by changing aspect ratio. • Adjust Light intensity on Environment and Text. • Change Ground/floor with stylish lands and move horizontally and vertically. • Move Sky or Skybox in 360 degree it results in changing the Light Direction on Text. • Change Sky with clouds skybox, Moon Skybox Sun Set and Sun rise skybox and many others. • Realistic 3D environment. You can change it to Grassy Land Environment, Hilly area Environment, Night Environment, Garden Environment and many others. • Multi-3D-Text is now available only in 3D post maker. • Text Position and Rotation is separately handled. • make simple and beautifully 3D drawing very easy. • Many Textures (metal Texture, wood Texture, etc.,) and color can be applied on 3D Text. To make text more custom, apply texture and color on Text Depth, Bevel and Face • 3D text special features like Depth, Bevel and Face. • 3D Text is enriched with features like edit text, move, rotate, align, line spacing, copy/past etc. • Stylish fonts • Add 3d text in Urdu, Arabic, Persian (Pashto, Sindhi, Farsi etc.) and English

Now you can design your own photo on 3D Post Maker:

1- New Year 3D Eve Cards and wishes 2- Christmas is coming make your Christmas cards with 3D. 3- 3D Pictures 4- Edit 3D Photo 5- 3D Post Editing 6- Edit 3D the picture 6- 3D Valentine Day Card 7- 3D Quotes of the day 8- 3D Invitation cards 9- 3D Love letters 10- 3D Ads campaign and advertisement 11- 3D Wallpapers 12- 3D Signature maker 13- 3D Eid greeting cards 14- 3D Funny post 15- 3D Poetry post 16- 3D Ahadith post 17- 3D Quranic verses posts

0 notes

randomup-blog1 · 6 years

Photo

Nowruz Mubarak. Persian New Year Card in Farsi. Spring Hyacinths. Send your Nowr… Nowruz Mubarak. Persian New Year Card in Farsi. Spring Hyacinths. Send your Nowruz wishes and love to friends and family with these elegant and festive Persian New Year Cards with front verse in Farsi literary translated as "Happy New Year ( new day) " and personalized inside greeting. at greetingcardunive... Source: JamesCroftOlder

0 notes

leucus-blog1 · 6 years

Photo

نوروز مبارک . Nowruz Mubarak / Happy Nowruz / Muslim Spring Festival /… نوروز مبارک . Nowruz Mubarak / Happy Nowruz / Muslim Spring Festival / Norooz / Nowruz / Persian New Year Customizable Greeting Cards in Farsi. Matching cards, postage stamps and other products available in the Muslim Holidays / Events Category of the artofmairin store at zazzle.com Source: JamesCroftOlder

0 notes

barboachofficial-blog · 6 years

Photo

0 notes

happynewyearuhub · 6 years

Link

نوروز مبارک .Nowruz Mubarak / Happy Nowruz / Muslim Spring Festival / Norooz / Persian New Year Customizable Greeting Cards in Farsi with a Persian miniature, early 20th century. Matching cards, postage stamps and other products available in the Muslim Holidays Category of the oldandclassic store at zazzle.com

Source: JamesCroftOlder

The post نوروز مبارک .Nowruz Mubarak / Happy Nowruz / Muslim Spring Festival / … appeared first on uHub.

#HappyNewYear #NewYear #Images #Photos #نوروز مبارک .Nowruz Mubarak / Happy Nowruz / Muslim Spring Festi

0 notes

quadernetto · 7 years

Text

Hong Kong & China August 2017 rough travelog

Mercoledì 16 agosto, arrivo.

On the Hong Kong Airport Express. La fila davanti alla mia, nice girl videochatting, making faces: sposta il volto, controlla, guarda, uno nel riquadro. Volto da bambola, eppure è una conversazione; riavvia i capelli, è solo un cenno. Parla, si specchia.

Arrivo at Hong Kong Island. Making my way through the crowd at the Hong Kong station, then Causeway Bay. Sera. Caldo, pensavo peggio, ma caldo.

This is the skinny bitch paradise. Little slender girls in flip flops all around: incarnati candidi oppure no e sono altrettanto belli. Le guardo quite old pig mode.

Sleep at Yesinn Causeway Bay. Fottuto ostello. Entrance is not convenient because of the stairs. Pretty one at the reception but totally not helpful, even with my lost baggages (una tragedia per il viaggiatore). Youngsters around -- mostly from the North of Europe I guess.

Victoria park is nearby... but there is a maze of tall buildings you really don't see around. Sistemo qualcosa nel mixed dorm, 21 beds! Che strano nelle foto mi pareva diverso. Un cazzo di unico bagno per tutta queste gente. Sono il vecchio fuori posto, forse sì, forse no, etc. mi annoia la conversazione con me stesso.

Fame. Mi fermo by mistake at a pizza pasta place, pissed off the owner ordering only a drink. Una coppietta di fianco, infilata di tavoli. The girl pushes the stool with my stuff away, slightly disgusted. Bevo me ne vado.

Took a stroll around Causeway Bay MTR. Now I see why I can't find anything - places are on floors higher than ground, so the formula is x/F. There are like 10 or more places as such.

Struggling to find a place which is OK for a light dinner. Bumped into Hesheeat or what, a girlish place with mostly desserts on the menu. Have a seat, then rush away, I need some proper food. Then I throw myself into a basic duck & pork shop. The owner waving to get me in. 53 Hong Kong dollars. Do you have chopsticks - help yourself. Silly question. A lemonade for drinking - weird choice for the locals.

Then I walk towards Wan Chai and Convention Center and back.

Toothbrushes in the shower - only one shower for a 21 beds dorm... hmmm.

J'ai bien dormi - o meglio sono crollato ma riprendendomi davvero fin verso le tre e mezzo, svegliato forse dal fuso o dal piss. Leggo organizzo, prima la guida poi Yu Hua, China in Ten Words. Scopro una finestra che dà sulla strada 10 piani più in basso, giusto dietro la mia testa. Un punto di fuga luce aperta nella notte. Soddisfazione. Nessuno russa.

Ricordi notturni, public sex in rifugio con S.; era un dorm, 10 posti? Il piano alto di un letto a castello, doppio! Le chiesi del libro, Claudel, rispose con perfetto contegno. Bonne nuit. Poi. Chissà come sarebbe qui magari nel dorm double bed dell'altro ostello di cui si dice da qualche parte.

Recupero altre tre ore di sonno fino alle nove.

Giovedì 17 agosto.

I caffè i locali sono gelidi, aria condizionata Middle East style. Cammino attraverso Wan Chai alla ricerca di CTS travel services, devo trovare il biglietto del bus per Shenzen.

Bancarelle negozi affacciati su strada e poi un mercato coperto. Pesce e carne all'aperto, lavoranti e no in abiti sozzi, maneggiano lame mezzelune guardano torvi persino i clienti forse macelleranno anche loro.

Ricordi di Bangkok: una città lurida, fascinosa e verticale (riprendilo scrivendo di workplace - non è solo la storia o meglio la storia fa il simbolo: porto e mercato sono quasi una cosa sola).

Le torri, vista dallo Star Ferry. Flat organization anyone?

I servi e i maestri dei building site a passeggio o stramazzati attorno, a volte scalzi, il thermos o una bottiglia di thè pare ancora perfettamente chiuso a fianco, molti si capisce al telefono.

Dim sum buoni ma sono un po' deluso, mi aspettavo delizie paradisiache - manco il raviolo a forma di faccia da porcello mi prendo.

Ritorno verso il mall, espresso piuttosto cattivo da Starbucks, mi perdo via sui piedi e le caviglie nude di una cinese in attesa credo del mio stesso bus per Shenzen.

Ancora MTR per il check-in nella bettola da 65 euro e passa, un'infilata di porte su una corte interna dall'aria fetida. room no window e 10 minutes to wait for the hot water. Il ragazzotto della reception è simpatico e mi frega con classe.

Passeggiata per le scalinate i camminamenti di Central, poi i Central-to-Mid Levels escalators, una concrezione vecchiotta e semiautomatica che però fa salire ogni giorno si vede migliaia di persone, ora annoiati dai turisti -- moltissimi cinesi.

Rientro ancora camminando in alto fino a IFC, mi fermo nello slargo sotto il parallelepipedo sghembo di Standard Chartered, dove una folla di banker si beve birra London style con sotto un martello clubbing.

Retrobottega della testa ora pure alle prese con le coglionerie del collega americano - saggio stare a distanza e pure vedere a distanza.

Serata pasticciata e nevrotica per l'ansia del sacco smarrito.

Boilerqualcosa è un posto dove si mangia cuocendo al tavolo i cibi in una marmitta di zuppa bollente. Ci arrivo a stento solo dopo la spiegazione sommaria di un vecchio cameriere, seccato per il mio ordine parco e senza carne. Sbaglio i tempi, cuocio male, troppo crudo troppo cotto, che cazzo di scherzo è. Scappo quando rispondono che il pacco loro l'han dato ore fa alla distribuzione; circo di un'ora e passa col ragazzotto che corre madido su e giù per cercare a quale indirizzo sbagliato, altri buchi con una targa in questo palazzo.

Venerdì 18 agosto.

Alle sette del mattino le strade sono vuote lorde e sciacquate pare di piscio.

Da Seven Eleven il ragazzo si chiede se l'Italia è come nel Padrino.

Seduto in un caffè di Elements mall - che qui pronunciano "elma" - guardo lo zaino ritrovato, poggiato sulla sedia, ricambiato come avessi di fronte un gatto colpevole.

Caffè lungo nero e aromatico addolcito da un brownie. Finalmente in a good mood speriamo non duri 5 minuti.

Verso Shenzen in pullman. Ipnotizzato dagli agglomerati di torri, massicci e grigi, bastioni appostati con violenza nel paesaggio.

Confine di terra per entrare a Shenzen. La poliziotta minuta compunta graziosa avrà 19 anni - alla fine del controllo piega appena la bocca in un sorriso.

In aeroporto. Volo per Xi'an.

La bella a passeggio col tacco rotondo, very pro. Chiacchiere com Gary, mechanical engineer seduto di fianco al gate, di rientro dopo missione a Shenzen.

Posto window. Sonno. La fanciulla di fianco, la sento muoversi e respirare, dorme, crolla sul tavolino, si riprende, crolla di nuovo. Si solleva, si stira un po'. La bocca socchiusa in uno sbadiglio o uno scatto perfetto per una blowjob-open-mouths tumblr collection.

Arrivo a Xi'an. Sera.

Buio all'arrivo, luci spente o flebili in una periferia indefinita.

Prendo un transfer, minivan, costa poco, siamo 7 o 8. Lui lei e bimba sul van con me e altri due, una sacra famiglia, lei ha una voce formata, calda, modulata, meravigliosa; lui prende la bimba, massaggia le spalle di lei, "little English" mi dice ma ci capiamo sulla nostra provenienza.

Sabato 19 agosto

Terracotta army on tour. Opera folle, esperienza spiacevole per la ressa.

Cena. Zuppa di montone al quinto piano, famiglie e un gruppo di turisti. Piatto tipico dello Shaanxi.

Il capitalismo è salvo: 1 miliardo e mezzo di consumatori qui soltanto.

Domenica 20 agosto

La base station sopra i tetti di Pingyao - non c'è modo di far convivere apparati ancora così brutti con le forme costruite. Fenomeno analogo per la rete elettrica etc.

I treni veloci - sono popolari o meglio borghesi? Quindi di nuovo la mira del povero nella ricerca del treno lento, il contatto appunto popolare, ma solo per gioco, un po' di role playing alla fine. So far per il turismo equo sostenibile. Been there, done that.

Tecnorientalismo, esotismo designer-ish dell'applicazione supposta più etica, perché di base (salute pagamenti etc.), come fosse voluto, e non uno stadio necessario. Paternalismo, anime belle etc. Questo discorso: sarebbe preso come violento e di destra, in realtà è puro progressismo.

Sera. Mi butto nel posto local e lei che dovrebbe parlare inglese ha un modo di sedersi accanto - è sposata e serissima in un modo credo persino inconcepibile

Pingyao depressingly touristy at street level - night view with a bit less people around and the red lanterns all lit is much better

Cinese, inglese, difficile farsi capire, etc.

Di mio non ho neppure imparato: birra tovaglioli bicchiere grande piccolo il conto e poi grazie prego arrivederci greetings in general that's very unpolite!

Cina, folla, c'è sempre molta gente, etc.

Lunedì 21 agosto

Beijing, Pechino.

Arrivo con code per uscire dal treno dalla stazione per entrare nella metro per comprare la card (old guy addosso, trolley come argine) poi girovago verso pinpoint errato direzioni approssimative

Cammino cammino nell'hutong: alla fine seguo il vecchio spazzino, ma non vuole soldi. Non si conclude niente. Chiudo con il rickshaw. Chiede 50 RMBa alla fine sono 20. "Aria condizionata naturale", ma per non molti soldi in più ho comprato quasi un'ora di alta velocità.

Cina: medioevo industriale e ferocemente ideologico ieri - potere pubblico e politico ancora oggi solidissimo sia pure meno sanguinario e quindi più raffinato, autoconsapevole, incernierato in quello delle grandi imprese e delle loro reti.

Il turista un po' musone con gli altri turisti è pure una ennesima degenerazione del turismo. Viaggiare è sempre un privilegio e come si fa sui sentieri di montagna ci si dovrebbe sempre scambiare almeno un buongiorno.

Tian'anmen La stella rossa sopra le teste. Eco nella testa della mia subcultura, Stalingrado degli Stormy Six.

Nostalgia ideologica, un velo, eco di entusiasmo dei 18 anni, o del nervosismo incattivito dei 18, dell'erranza intestardita e sciocca. Tetraggine dopo. Fantasia sulle scene dell'89, per come le ho lette in Yu Hua. Esibizione, vuoto, ragazzi irrigiditi schiene inarcate in divisa. Family pics ovunque.

Mao in fondo, un ritratto illustrazione, immagine icona.

Colazione fuori dalla piazza, focaccetta dolce e succo, 6 yuan, poi caffè filtro da Starbucks, con biscotto, fanno 39.

Martedì 22 agosto

Gugong, visita di 4 ore grosso modo. Audioguida gps discreta. Turisti cinesi in quantità cinesi. Yu Hua dice che incontrò al massimo una dozzina di persone quando la visitò a suo tempo.

Monumentalità rigida, ossessiva, ripetitiva, variazione infinita sul tema: rosso, giallo, blu, verde, dragone, fenice. Non è un'interpretazione raffinata, va bene. Pioggerella, va, viene. Succo buono per 10 yuan. La ragazza me lo indica facendo una x con le dita, come nell'ideogramma, che ignoro. Donne si levano le scarpe per stendere il piede, bambini giocano. Accessori: smartphone, acqua. Inglesi grassocci. Ventenni locali con silhouette da copertina. Ricomincia la pioggerella, poi più fitta: l'acqua rallenta la frenesia, passo lento sotto gli ombrelli.

Erano i giapponesi a girare attaccati alle automatiche, o alle reflex - vedi l'illustrazione sul muro all'ingresso di Yanguongxulu. Qui ognuno ora ha uno smartphone e fotografa, paga, comunica ça va sans dire.

Una borghesia infinita e in crescita, e pure alcune disparità eclatanti: una donna lava i panni in due tinozze su Dianmen Dongdajie, mentre attorniato girano centinaia di milioni di lavatrici - dalle Miele immagino dei ricchi ai first price, che qui saranno a 100 dollari.

Moda, o modo diffuso di vestire: t-shirt con breve scritta in inglese, slightly whimsical, un ideogramma al contrario. Molto comune tra ventenni o meno, ma mi ha sfilato prima un vecchio coperto di polvere, "every damn dunk" e sotto il logo Nike, la maglietta di un verdastro ormai grigio per la lordura.

E c'è da chiedersi: esisteranno i single le single 30 o 40 plus here around? dubito molto. Tutti dico tutti con nevrosi da single qui hanno almeno un figlio cresciutelli già a 25. Autocommiserazione inutile etc.

Passeggiate browniane nevrotiche e frastornanti attorno alle metro DawangLu Wangfujing, e lì per cento metri dentro il "mercato notturno". Fuori dalle stazioni una cacofonia tetra e acuta di luci clacson motori urla luci ingorgo anonimo.

Provo la food court sotterranea coi tavoli sommersi di vassoi in plastica avanzi di cibo in terra piatti campione avvolti in profilattici di pellicola. Nausea, risalgo. Il mercato cosiddetto o almeno la parte che vedo è un tunnel da Luna Park dove si striscia tra odori feroci e ruzzi alle spalle. La maxifoto bianconero del mercato com'era: cinesi rotondi avanzano sfocati ai lati di una viuzza vuota. Uno scherno. Spiedini coperti di una bava luminescente, i soliti di maiale o anatra o non so, altro che non riconosco. Smoothies in bicchieri di plastica. Uscire di qui.

Mercoledì 23 agosto

Un business man in his 40s, versione 2017 del funzionario di rango che ha passato gli esami imperiali. Ha un abito buono.

Un boccone a pranzo dalle parti di CCTV. Un tavolino all'ombra su una piccola infilata verde sotto la torre.

Attorno a Yanghegong. Looking for a big porcelain teapot: no way to find it... ma inciampo in una graziosa negoziante di bijoux e strumenti musicali che vuole raccomandarmi il negozio di un'amica.

Ha o hanno un modo di passare dall'estraneità a una vicinanza anche solo apparente ma quasi intima nel modo di porsi - le donne, chiaro. Si mette al mio fianco per cercare l'indirizzo dell'amica, il décolleté stretto, pelle magnifica, a truly small tits beauty (btw, a mom too.... credo di aver poi scoperto via wechat).

Giovedì 24 e venerdì 25 agosto

Great wall: una follia militare autoritaria, un'epifania della maestosa paranoia imperiale.

Visita di due giorni con trek, pernotto e il resto.

Tour operator: expat belga con compagna local, ha ingaggiato M., un ventenne messicano agile e secco come una belva, ma gentile vegetariano educato, e Y., una minuta early 30s che parla un perfetto inglese, alas, ha studiato negli Stati Uniti.

Gruppo con famiglia inclusa - so far per la mia ricerca di cose davvero sportive, pure i bambini so buttano etc. Esecrabile abitudine alla sottostima etc.

Prima salita poco piacevole, una treccia snodata tra vegetazione fitta, fa caldo, nulla alla vista. L'arrivo però dà soddisfazione: la torre è deserta, abbandonata, non un cartello, truly unrestored come promesso, intorno blu e verde, le valli in basso, un aereo lontano. This is the Arrow Knot section.

Poi si cammina sul muro: un corridoio sghembo tra piante selvagge e merlate fatiscenti, dentro un confine sordo, inamovibile, continuo, ossessivo.

La linea di pietra taglia la cresta, arrampica, precipita, puntata di torri, bastioni, presìdi, paura, ordini, compiti assurdi o necessari.

Scendo con Y. e la coppia olandese, il resto campeggia, trovata mi pare quasi sciocca.

Cena in una delle farmhouse tirate su coi soldi del governo, la placca con falce e martello all'ingresso. Una tavolata cinese pochi metri più in là, gli altri ospiti per il fine settimana. Very very loud people. Poi un baffetto cicciozzo, tracolla o borsello of sort in pelle, branded Jeep, scarica due lattine di birra sul tavolo per me e l'olandese, urla domande a Y. perché le traduca, mugola complimenti alla ragazza dell'olandese, fa accendere il karaoke. Quattro bambole coreano cantano un motivetto, sottili bianche sinuose, un pastiche pop da festival anni Settanta rivestito di seduzione cattiva. Ci mollano ma vanno avanti, nella cameretta prefabbricata si sente tutto. L'olandese la mattina dice che l'han tenuto sveglio urlando e russando come urlavano fino a notte fonda.

Altro giorno con risalita appena meglio, si va alle sezioni più vicine alle tappe turistiche.

Un drone ronza sopra di noi, poi cinesi travestiti da trekker, appaiono rifiuti, dopo più frequenti. Un po' di noia, salto lo strappo sull'anello in alto (bull's horn?), arriviamo vicini a Mutyanyau (?), restored part, video sorveglianza, venditori di birre e acqua.

Sul sentiero che scende incrociamo cinesi con tenute ridicole, scarpe fuori luogo, infanti stesi tra le braccia di madri sudate.

Chat chat chat avec Y. on the back of the bus, intimità obbligatoria, fatico a contenere un gesto affettuoso, mi pare di leggere male, inevitabile esprit de l'escalier; se mai la rivedrò le chiederò.

Sabato 26 agosto

Your room has b-been cancelled mi dice la ragazza con sorriso tirato tirandomi matto col prezzo delle ultime due rimaste. Quelli ai piani che non capiscono un cazzo, la reazione per i soldi fottuti da questa fighetta bruttina. Quasi mi frega due volte lasciandomi nel loculo a 299 RMB e allora ficcatevi gli 899 dove dico io per quella in effetti much bigger, che voglio farmi una doccia. (Più di 100 euro penso minchia) Puzzo di fumo residuo in grande camera da funzionario puttaniere scrivania e tutto e bagno con finestrone quasi buffo sul vedo non vedo schiumoso di lei o cazzo ma che gran cosa è travelling solo mentre stai single. Però, vista da quinto piano sulle luci di Pechino, tre animaletti demoniaci sul profilo dello spiovente se ne stanno lì beffardi. Last night in Beijing.

#Cina #hongkong #viaggio #xian #pingyao #pechino #grandemuraglia #solo #indipendente #italiano

0 notes

touristguidebuzz · 7 years

Text

30 Photos From Afghanistan That You Won’t See In The News

Traveling in Afghanistan

Afghanistan

Last summer I traveled into the mountains of Afghanistan for a two week backpacking adventure. Not your typical summer vacation destination. Here’s what I witnessed on my journey.

What comes to mind when you think about Afghanistan? War? Terrorism? Osama Bin Laden? The Mother Of All Bombs?

Sure, much of Afghanistan is still dangerous — but there’s also incredible beauty, hospitality and kindness in the country that doesn’t get reported on.

It’s far too easy to vilify or write-off an entire nation when you don’t have to look those people in the eyes. People with the same hopes and dreams as you — to survive, find happiness, and provide for their families.

I was able to experience the positive side of Afghanistan and its wonderful people, up close and personal, during my trip there last summer. It’s since become my most memorable travel adventure to date.

Here are some of my favorite photos of people & landscapes from my 100 mile trek into Afghanistan’s remote and mountainous Wakhan Corridor.

This is the “other” side of Afghanistan that you don’t see in the news.

The Hindu Kush Mountains

Traveling in the Wakhan

Wakhan Corridor

The Wakhan is a rugged and wild region of Northeast Afghanistan, part of Badakhshan Province. It’s a narrow peice of land, about 400 km long, surrounded on three sides by Tajikistan, China, and Pakistan.

Two large mountain ranges dominate the area, the Pamir in the North, and the Hindu Kush in the South. The Wakhan Corridor was created by politicians in the 1800’s during the “Great Game” in an attempt to leave a buffer zone between British India and the Russian empire.

Riding Yaks in the Wakhan

Hitchhiking By Yak

Taking a break from walking, I managed to hitch a ride on a yak for a portion of the route. We ran into a group of Wakhi men leading their yaks through the mountains. While they stopped for tea, they let us borrow their yaks, which we led further into the valley until their owners caught up with us later.

Yaks are the ultimate eco-friendly 4×4 in Afghanistan, able to climb steep rocky terrain and power through icy cold rivers. There are no trees above 10,000 feet, so locals are forced to trek for 3 days to lower elevations with their animals in order to gather firewood for cooking and warmth.

Ruined Stone Shelter on a Vast Landscape

Trekking in the Wakhan

Ancient Silk Road

The Wakhan was once part of the ancient silk road, an important trading route connecting China to Europe. Along with silk, horses, and other goods, it was a highway for armies and explorers too. Explorers like Marco Polo who is believed to have passed through here during the 13th century.

Crossing steep mountain passes and high desolate plateaus, passing caravans of yaks and donkeys loaded with goods, spending the night in stone shelters with traveling merchants — I felt like I was getting a glimpse of what the silk road must have been like all those years ago.

Muslim Shopkeepers in Afghanistan

My Compatriots in the Wakhan

The Many Faces Of Islam

Just like the many different branches of Christianity, there are many different branches of Islam, all with their own beliefs and values. Many people living in Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor are Ismaili Muslims, who practice a moderate form of Islam. They number 25 million worldwide, and despise the Taliban.

Their spiritual leader is the Aga Khan, a successful British businessman and Imam who runs the Aga Khan Development Network, a super important charity organization that improves living conditions and opportunities for the poor in Africa and Central Asia.

Footbridge Over the Wakhan River

Untamed Blue Rivers

The Wakhan River runs through the Wakhan Corridor, fed by the high altitude mountains of the Hindu Kush on the border with Pakistan. It snakes its way through the mountains, and is a major lifeline for the people living in this harsh and unforgiving landscape.

The bright blue color of this water is due to reddish hues of the rock formations around it, as well as the crystal clear source (a glacier). Water molecules absorb other colors, like red, more efficiently than blue.

Enjoying the Wild Landscape

Snowy Mountains in August

Epic Mountain Views

When the weather was clear, I was rewarded with incredible views of the mountains like this! The trail was well worn, as it’s used daily by small groups of locals who travel in caravans of yaks or donkeys from settlement to settlement.

The 10 day trek ranged in altitude from 10,000 to 16,000 feet, and we averaged about 10 miles per day of hiking. I began to feel the effects of altitude on my body around 12,000 feet with shortness of breath. At 16,000 feet hiking became even more tiring and difficult.

Snow Covered Yurts

Kyrgyz Settlement in the Wakhan

Portable Yurts

The Kyrgyz people of Afghanistan are semi-nomadic, moving from valley to valley herding their animals to different grazing pastures depending on the season. They live in cozy yurts made of sheep felt, which can be broken down and transported long distances.

Each settlement consists of 2-3 families living and working together. Originally from the area around Kyrgyzstan, their ancestors were kind of trapped in the Wakhan after the Soviets took over Central Asia, forcibly settled nomadic tribes, and sealed off the silk road route.

Sheer Chai Milk Tea

Salty Milk Tea

Both the Wakhi and Kyrgyz people drink large amounts of salty milk tea, called Sheer Chai. It’s served for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Basically, it’s a mix of yak and goat milk, boiled down for hours and dried into a portable block. It’s prepared by adding boiling water, loose-leaf tea, and rock salt.

The salt is great for rehydration at high & dry altitudes — I called it my Afghan Gatorade. It took a while to get used to (salty hot milk anyone?), but by the end of the adventure my body was craving sheer chai for every meal. You can also dissolve raw butter into the tea at breakfast for extra calories.

Petroglyphs in Afghanistan

Afghan Petroglyphs

Near the end of my 2nd day on the trail, we hiked past a set of ancient petroglyphs scrawled into a dark colored boulder overlooking the valley. My local guide, Yar, couldn’t tell me much about them, other than they think these markings are a few thousand years old.

They depict hunting scenes, men armed with what appear to be bows, as well as large game like ibex and the rare Marco Polo sheep. This was just one of many petroglyphs that dot the landscape in these mountains. They are thought to mark ancient hunting grounds claimed by different tribes.

Central Asia Institute School

Kyrgyz Boys Ready for Class

CAI Schools

This simple 3 room school in the remote Afghan village of Bozai Gumbaz was built by Greg Mortenson and his Central Asia Institute. You may have heard of Greg before, he’s the author of the best selling novel Three Cups Of Tea, about building schools for girls in Pakistan.

The school at Bozai Gumbaz, where I spent the night playing cards with Afghan army soldiers, was prominent in his 2nd book, Stones To Schools. The next morning a group of boys showed up on donkeys for class. I saw many CAI schools along the road from Eshkashim to Sarhad-e Broghil.

Camping in Afghanistan

Camping In Afghanistan

As a big fan of the outdoors, one of the highlights on this trip was the opportunity to wild camp in the mountains of Afghanistan. Most nights we were able to stay at small Wakhi or Kyrgyz settlements in basic guest huts, but we also camped out in tents a few nights too.

Normally I’m a camping hammock kind of guy, but because I knew there weren’t going to be any trees for most of this trek, I packed my super lightweight Nemo Hornet 2P Tent. It snowed a few times during the journey — in August!

Greetings From the Heart

Friendly Shopkeeper in Eshkashim

As-Salāmu ʿAlaykum

I was constantly greeted with As-salāmu ʿalaykum which means “peace be upon you”. A shorter version of this is just salām. Shaking hands is common, and so is placing your hand on your heart, which simply means your greeting comes from the heart.

Another important term I used during my journey is taschakor, meaning thank you. I always recommend trying to learn 10 of the most used words in a local language before traveling there. In the Afghan Wakhan, most people speak some Dari (Farsi) along with local dialects.

Afghan Woman Wearing Blue Burka

Wakhi Girl in Sarhad-e Broghil

Women In Afghanistan

Many people were asking if I saw women in Afghanistan. Yes I saw women during my trip, but most were extremely shy, especially if I had my camera out. Plus in their culture, talking with strange men is taboo. But shooting portraits of men or kids was not a problem.

Near the border town of Sultan Eshkashim, which is primarily Sunni Muslim, many women wear the full-length blue burqa that covers their face. In more rural areas of the Wakhan, it’s less strict. Women wear long colorful dresses with a simple headscarf. I was able to say hello and see their faces.

Kyrgyz Tombs at Bozai Gumbaz

Khajahbigali Family Tomb

Shrines & Tombs

I encountered a few ancient burial tombs during my time exploring the Wakhan Corridor. Near the Afghan military outpost of Bozai Gumbaz, there’s a collection of strangely shaped Kyrgyz beehive tombs, along with evidence of Soviet bombing (craters, bomb fragments) from the 1980’s occupation.

At the settlement of Langar, we found a pile of ibex horns marking the burial place of a powerful big man. In Afghanistan, wealthy & powerful men are often called “big men”. It’s a bit like calling someone “boss.” The more animals, land, and wives you have, the “bigger” & more influential you are.

Driving in Afghanistan

Rough Roads

Before I began the 10 day, 100 mile trek through the mountains, I had to hire a 4×4 van to drive me to the last village at the end of the road. We passed a few military checkpoints along the way, stopping for tea & candy with officials before continuing on.

The drive took 2 days, and the roads were some of the worst I’ve ever seen. Dust seeped into the vehicle, covering us in dirt. We forded rivers, drove along the edge of sheer cliffs, and were frequently stopped by huge herds of goats blocking the road. The van suffered 6 flat tires during the journey.

Cooking Lunch in a Stone Shelter

Wakhi Settlement

Wakhi Settlements

While I entered Afghanistan alone, I decided to hire a local translator/guide and horseman to accompany me on the trek into the mountains. It would have been extremely difficult to communicate with people without their help. We spent the night at a few Wakhi settlements during the hike.

Wakhi homes are basically stone huts with dirt floors, constructed using manure for cement. The roof is made of logs, grass, and more manure to keep it waterproof. Some shelters had stoves inside, others just had a fire pit. Either way it was pretty smoky…

Young Afghan Girl in Sarhad

Wakhi Family Living in the Mountains

Children Of The Wakhan

Life in the Wakhan is rough, especially for kids. About 60% of children here die before the age of five, the highest infant mortality rate in the world. If they do survive, they are put to work helping out with the family business — animal herding.

There are a few schools out here, thanks to the Central Asia Institute, but it’s up to the parents if they go. In some communities, only the boys are sent to school. The morning commute can take a few hours by donkey due to the lack of roads and distance between settlements.

Central Asian Bactrian Camel

Wildlife In Afghanistan

I was really hoping to see a snow leopard or Marco Polo sheep while I was traveling through the mountains of Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor. You know, Walter Mitty style! Unfortunately both of these endangered animals are extremely difficult to spot — but I did find camels!

Luckily the Wildlife Conservation Society has staff in the area, often spending weeks in the field gathering data to protect wildlife in the Wakhan. They estimate there are about 100-200 snow leopards living in these mountains. Wolves and bears also call this wilderness home.

The Country You Thought You Knew…

The Other Afghanistan

So there you go. A peek at the other side of Afghanistan that we never see on the nightly news. After traveling the world extensively for the past 6 years, I’ve noticed this is a common theme.

Don’t let our media, which is primarily focused on negative & sensational topics, be your only window into the dynamics of a foreign country you’ve never been to.

I’m not going to tell you that Afghanistan is safe. It’s not. Our troops who’ve served there can tell you. Afghans themselves are well aware of the dangers that plague their country too.

But I think there’s another side to Afghanistan that deserves some attention. The rugged, scenic mountain landscapes. The friendly, hospitable local people.

I’m hopeful for the day when Afghanistan’s problems fade away, and more travelers can safely enjoy the beauty this incredible country has to offer. ★

Bonus Video! Backpacking Afghanistan

Subscribe to my YouTube Channel for new Adventure Travel Videos! (Click to watch Backpacking Afghanistan – Wakhan Corridor on YouTube)

Pin This On Pinterest: