The Journey

On the last day of carnival 2001 we started. We, that is Tatjana Zenz, Ewald Schwaiger (foto to the right) and the Jahmobil, opened our trip by land to Afghanistan with the carnival procession in Graz.
At this time the Jahmobil already was aged 27 years and had been through some major repairs.
Two days we spent in a snowstorm, untill we reached the ferry in Triest, wich took us to Greece.
Here we dived into the oriental otherness, the foreign flair being visible in bazaars, teahouses, buildings and people.
We crossed by the shortest way, only with one excursion to the Meteor monastery.
From Istanbul we went along the Black Sea into eastern Turky - into wild Kurdistan.

Lake Van and the peak of Ararat we left behind, to get into Iran.
We got to know the desert, which accompanied us to Quetta in Pakistan. Across the mountains we got to Peshawar. With little hope we applied for visa at the afghanish embassy, the taliban office. As usual in this country the building was surrounded by a two meter wall.

Through a solid iron gate, guarded by armed men, we got inside. A natural garden grown with big trees surrounded two groups of buildings.In the first we got application - forms for our visa. The keepers at the gate and the men behind the pane of glass, that separated the officeroom, were the first taliban, that had been described so wild and uncalculable, we consciously got aware of on our trip. Whereas the other men waiting seemed to be all businessmen from Pakistan, used to cross the border constantly.
After filling in the forms and waiting for a long time, we were guided to the building in the back
In a large dusky room, on thick carpets, along the wall two lines of chairs made two benches, ending in front of a solid desk. Behind, with with long black beard and black habit the embassador sat and asked us to take seat to his left. Facing us sat three petitioners, easy to recognize by their way of answering questions.
Then it was our turn and after being questioned for hours, we were informed that the embassador would decide in four to six weeks.

The next day after a hard decision, we freed a young owl in the bazaar, to raise him and set him free when grown. Peshy Pürzel, so we call our new companion, travels with us for a month along the Karokorum Highway in Northpakistan to the chinese border.
Along the KK Highway and offroad on jeeptracks we enjoyed the beauty of the landscape and the modest, content life of the native people.

Before returning to Peshewar we set Peshy free. He now leads a free life in Gilgit, where he can get food in  Kajum's garden, when in need of.

Back at Peshawar something nearly miracolous happens. With a special permission we are allowed to travel through the taliban regime ruled Afghanistan for 21 days.
Early in the morning we leave our hotel in Peshawar with course Kyberpass - Afghanistan.
The night before we had given freedom to 21 native birds on the roof terrace of our hotel.
But only a few miles later we had to return, for in the aerea of the afghanish border foreigners
are only allowed to travel with military escort. Too great the risk of being attacked by smugglergangs.
Against a small fee to the competent office we are soon protected by a armed soldier pressed between us on a small sittingboard in the drivers cabin, his arm in strong grip.        
He also helps us with the necessairy papers at the checkpoint and with leaving Pakistan.
Then time has come, we are standing in front of the closed gate of the afghanish border. On the other side a crowd heading for Pakistan, in between heavy loaded donkeycarts. In front of the gate men with long beards take control over the crowd with thick stick, while opening the gate for us. Nearly unnoticable we roll through the crowd into Afghanistan.
We cross the country on the only `` passable´´  track full of  holes from Kabul over Kandahar to Herat, near the iranian border.
Timidly, cautiously we eye the foreign country, described dangerous to us. It seems to be much poorer than Pakistan, but also here people are friendly, pleased to see someone from the west.
Around and in Kabul we get the impression, Afghanistan is under reconstruction,                                             starting to open a little bit. As in spite of only wearing a cloth covering hair, shoulders and breast instead of the prescribed bourka, we are driven out of a street café only once.
We feel well in Kabul, we roam the town without being inhibited and soon get the first invitations for tea. For two weeks I suffer from heavy diarrhoea and strong stomack acheand cannot keep nutrition any more. In Kabul I slowly start to recover, but we cannot stay any longer as the costs for the hotel surmount the travelbudget and our visa is limited. So we are moving on over bad tracks to Kandahar, of this taliban stronghold we had been already warned in Pakistan. But we hope to find a cheap lodging here, where I can cure myself a little longer.
We should have listened to the warning of our friends. After having gathered an enourmous crowd around the jahmobil according to our appearace in town, the taliban wanted to arrest us. We never found out the reason why, but we have to contribute our saving to a young medician, who helped us to escape.
We made it to Heart.
The people of this town confirmed us again in the positive experiences of this trip, the hospitality and readiness to help we came to know in various places.

But  they did not make us forget the misery we also saw.


We returned home safe and sound after six months, enriched with a lot of  experiences. 

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