Home again - via Afghanistan
Well I'm back in Adelaide, and bloody hell that's a long flight from Paris. Twenty seven hours including the stops in Singapore and Darwin, and that's not including the three hours of hassle getting my ticket and getting my bike on the plane (for an 80 euro excess baggage charge, which I hadn't had to pay going in the other direction -- thank you Qantas, screw you Air France). French bureaucracy are extremely productive -- at turning one hour waits into two hours, and making a merely difficult situation nearly intolerable. Whatever your problem, a French bureaucrat can reliably be expected to double it.
The highlight of the flight was coming over Afghanistan -- the plane left Paris at 11:15pm, so all the shutters were down and everyone still trying to sleep, but I walked to the back of the plane where the windows by the toilets were available, and spent the next 40 minutes just standing and watching. It was early morning outside, and the sun was low, casting shadows and highlights across the mountains. And what mountains. There were ragged ridges running crazed zigzags across the landscape, all looking sharp enough to cut yourself on. There was new snowfall gleaming in the morning sun, and valleys filled with cloud. And there were sheer, vertical drops that, even from 35,000 feet, looked precipitous.
In the valleys, I could see little villages the same colour as the surrounding red-brown earth -- all the buildings are shaped like squares around a central courtyard, and sometimes these squares join together, like building blocks. I'm sure if I could have flown over two thousand years ago, they would have looked exactly the same. Then there were some broad valleys, including a very impressive, long, straight road that I reckon must have been this one. My compliments to the engineers, and the US government for funding it. Beyond, I'm quite sure, was Kabul, nestled below surrounding mountains.
And then, finally, the air was so clear I could see all the way down into Pakistan, as the plateau fell away like a set of impossibly rugged steps, and I could see how even the flat Afghan valleys are way above sealevel. Then I went back to my seat, and stopped blocking the toilet door. But I'm always amazed at how on an airplane of more than two hundred people, hardly anyone seemed interested in looking out the window. I wonder if spacetravel, and views of the Earth from orbit, will ever become that mundane that quickly. I don't think so... but then, I'm sure the Wright Brothers could never have imagined anyone would rather sleep through a glorious Afghan morning at 35,000 feet.
The highlight of the flight was coming over Afghanistan -- the plane left Paris at 11:15pm, so all the shutters were down and everyone still trying to sleep, but I walked to the back of the plane where the windows by the toilets were available, and spent the next 40 minutes just standing and watching. It was early morning outside, and the sun was low, casting shadows and highlights across the mountains. And what mountains. There were ragged ridges running crazed zigzags across the landscape, all looking sharp enough to cut yourself on. There was new snowfall gleaming in the morning sun, and valleys filled with cloud. And there were sheer, vertical drops that, even from 35,000 feet, looked precipitous.
In the valleys, I could see little villages the same colour as the surrounding red-brown earth -- all the buildings are shaped like squares around a central courtyard, and sometimes these squares join together, like building blocks. I'm sure if I could have flown over two thousand years ago, they would have looked exactly the same. Then there were some broad valleys, including a very impressive, long, straight road that I reckon must have been this one. My compliments to the engineers, and the US government for funding it. Beyond, I'm quite sure, was Kabul, nestled below surrounding mountains.
And then, finally, the air was so clear I could see all the way down into Pakistan, as the plateau fell away like a set of impossibly rugged steps, and I could see how even the flat Afghan valleys are way above sealevel. Then I went back to my seat, and stopped blocking the toilet door. But I'm always amazed at how on an airplane of more than two hundred people, hardly anyone seemed interested in looking out the window. I wonder if spacetravel, and views of the Earth from orbit, will ever become that mundane that quickly. I don't think so... but then, I'm sure the Wright Brothers could never have imagined anyone would rather sleep through a glorious Afghan morning at 35,000 feet.
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