Bamyan

Bamyan is more used to tourism, so at first glance, less people asked us randomly about our origin - or we learned to be more deaf in this regard. We roam around the bazaar and pass by the souvenir selling chiringuitos, drink fruit shakes, and order western style fast food to our hotel room at night. We are not down to eat in a filthy and dark "family room", a dark covered space reserved for women or families.

We then headed to the famous Buddha statues, or what's left of them (not much is left). We sneaked around and avoided the ticket booth to take some pictures - we are not down to pay an entrance fee for a sight destroyed by the same government.

There’s that sense of running low, like the engine idling on bad mixture. We are exhausted, not only by being the foreigners all the time, but by living inside a society enforcing a kind of female apartheid: double-factor security not to belong, not to be part of this world.
After recovering a bit in the quiet cozy hotel, we got ready to head to the capital city...Leggi altro