Only Mad Dogs and Englishmen

It was a Brit’s idea, but I went along with it.

The hills of Kabul are dotted with fortresses, and I’d been too lazy/busy to visit them. In my defense, it’s not as if I, a woman, could just climb up to the fortresses on my own. So I jumped at the opportunity to join the Brit’s informal fort tour, blithely ignoring the fact that we’d be stomping around fortresses during the hottest part of what have become very hot days.

The hillside beneath Koala Pushta fort is littered with garbage. Lots of garbage, cooking in the heat. The stench made my eyes water, and I wondered at the mud-brick homes that abutted the dump. But the odor didn’t rise as high as the fort, and the air smelled blessedly free of rotting garbage, car exhaust, and other bad things.

The fortresses look more impressive from below. Their interiors aren’t terribly thrilling. Open skies, weeds, a few stray dogs, and the ground littered with shells and other detritus of battle. After staggering through the second fort, we all agreed to skip the third (and most historic) in favor of beverages at a local restaurant.

Bad tourist.