Herat Part II

Byron wrote that the Musalla Complex, built in the 15th century, was “the most beautiful example of color in architecture ever devised by man to the glory of God and himself.”

Hm.

I’m having a hard time envisioning that.

I’m also having a hard time envisioning what Nancy Dupree, the author of the definitive Afghanistan guidebook, saw. Granted, she wrote her guidebook in the 70s. Also granted, I didn’t have time to do a real tour of the complex, or what's left of it. I just drove beneath the four minarets on my way to Jetrai. Apparently, they once marked the corners of a madrassa. They also were once covered in white faience and blue mosaics. A bit of mosaic still exists, but the towers are worn down, especially about the base. And I wonder at the huge road which cleaves through the minarettes, and which can’t be good for them.

Perhaps if I’d had time to tour the citadel, admire the mosque, I’d have a different impression of Herat. Perhaps my expectations were too high. Heart is one of the most, if not the most, “historic” of Afghanistan’s cities. It lies near the Iranian border, and is correspondingly more conservative than Kabul. There are as many women in the flowing black veil as in the burqa, though few women are seen on the street at all.

Herat was also hot. I tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep from the heat. It didn’t help that my bed was lopsided. I had to lie flat upon my back or risk getting tumbled from it. My mood was not improved when the cook at my guesthouse served a version of Afghan prison food, unappetizing and calorie-free.

When I returned to Kabul, people commented that I looked wan. I don’t know if it was from the lack of food (which no doubt did me good) or the battering the small aircraft took on its landing in Kabul. It was windy, the plane was small, and we were tossed helplessly about. Not a good flyer in the best of times, I found the sight of the airsickness bag reassuring, though I fortunately did not have to use it.