In 1978, Bruce Chatwin, the much-admired English writer and adventurer said that “You have never travelled if you have never crossed a frontier or border on foot.” He also added that very few had ever done it and even fewer had done it alone. Bruce himself had made a habit of it!
In 1970, I had hitch-hiked across France from Italy and headed for the Northern Spanish city of Gerona. I had enjoyed a 200km ride in a small Fiat when the driver asked me to leave his car and walk ahead of the long queue of vehicles to the frontier.
It was very hot even at 8pm as I walked solo towards the barriers. I guessed the Fiat driver didn’t want me in his car when we entered customs. He was afraid I was carrying drugs, but I was happy to walk the ½ km long queue of vehicles knowing I was clean.
The guards weren’t happy at all when they saw me walking into the office with my long hair and no vehicle. They were abrupt, aggressive, and almost forced me out of the office. I was very relieved when they pushed me out of the building after granting me entry.
It was far from a memorable experience but that was soon forgotten when a young Spaniard offered me a ride into Gerona. At that stage I wasn’t impressed with Bruce Chatwin’s observations at all!
Five years later, I was heading East to India after crossing North Africa and the Middle East. I was the only European on board the bus in Iran when I attempted to find out what time the bus was going to reach the Afghanistan border. The language barrier was impossible, so I sat and waited as night fell. Close to 11pm under a sky powdered with stars, we stopped and waited as the bus emptied all thirty passengers and pets and birds (mainly chickens) and then we queued for security checks and money control. Midnight wasn’t far away when we were released like cattle and escorted out the doors.
I cautiously walked the 200m of gravel “No man’s land” into Afghanistan. Of course, you can’t touch the stars, but the complete lack of lighting enhanced the blackness. I was spellbound by the midnight sky.
Small groups of Afghani men waiting for family and friends had rifles slung across their backs. They were not remotely interested in me as herds of young men kept offering me small blocks of hashish at crazy low cost. I kept declining their offers as I didn’t like the idea of an Afghani jail. A small town sat beside the road 500m from the border, so I stayed there two days before drifting on to Kandahar and Kabul in the middle of the country. Those two days felt like two weeks. Everyone and everything appeared to be in slow motion, including me.
Is it the slow pace life there, or is it something in the water or wine? I never did find out, but Afghanistan will always be a treasure of memories and beautiful dreams for me. The country was in peace at this time. Schools were full of boys and girls. They were optimistic of their future!
I stayed in Kabul for two weeks and promised myself that I would somehow return. I didn’t know that the radical Taliban were already recruiting heavily, and the future of Afghanistan was bleak. The so-called Afghanistan war commenced a year later, and the country was closed to travellers and tourists. But I would love to know if Bruce Chatwin ever crossed a border at midnight and alone on foot.
John A Wilson, Gold Coast, January 2021
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