The Afghan Queen: A True Story of an American Woman in Afghanistan (28 page)

Stamps of the Afghan Revolution (Wikipedia)

Why does it take forever to get things done? The flight from Pan Am, Kennedy Airport, due to leave at 8:30 had been changed to 9:10, and due to no open seats in the passenger boarding area, I was sitting on the floor writing in my journal about amazing America.

The talking heads had finally confirmed the news that was over a week old: ‘Radiation leaks from Three Mile Island, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, were confirmed, but posed no threat at this time.’

The media speculated about a meltdown. I had my sixteen year old son, Kirk, with me for this trip. Three Mile Island was close enough to metro NYC to pose a real threat, I thought. I was anxious to leave this lunacy and fly to the lunacy in Kabul. That was so weird: trading one type of insanity for another.

Over the past few days I’d been going in circles, shuffling and reshuffling our bags. My son Kirk had his sheet music in an overnight bag, and his tapes and guitars were checked in. My business bags were checked thru to Kabul. My son seemed delighted to be in the midst of this airport chaos. Of course, it was all new to him and the excitement of this trip was contagious.

Kirk was acting as if we would not return to the States. He was mostly hyped about the trip but was getting maudlin about missing friends and family. We had all discussed the situation about a possible nuclear meltdown at some point. We agreed that since I needed to get back to Kabul for business, I’d take Kirk with me on this trip while Paul would take our son Erik with him on a business trip out west.

Both boys relished travel like their Gypsy mother and realized that a worst case scenario would prevent us returning to New Jersey. Our contingency plan was to meet in Las Vegas where I had kin.

We had quite a load of luggage and at first thought we could take a helicopter to JFK Airport, but high wind forced us to take a limo. After all the waiting, we finally boarded, with Kirk at a window seat and me on the aisle. The nervous tension left me exhausted, but once I started writing it relaxed me, and I was reluctant to stop, until sleep decided for me.

After seven hours of fitful sleep in the icy cabin, I woke about six a.m., wondering why I was so hungry. My bug-eyed son, with eyes almost as big as the plane window, had the foresight to save my wonderful chicken dinner. The dinner had arrived hours ago, buried in aluminum foil. I was so famished I thought I just might eat the foil also. How wonderful that my dear, dear boy thought of mom for a change.

At eight in the morning, the steward brought us each a warm sweet roll, an apple, and a pear. Kirk was scrunched up with a pillow between his head and the window. The steward brought a blanket, and I draped it over him. Kirk slept like the dead, and I looked at him every few minutes to check if he was still breathing. At times he drove me nuts, and that was a short drive.

My son has always been a deep sleeper. The hardest part of everyday was waking him for school. Paul and I took turns doing this when we were home. When we were away Dan, our house helper, would get him up by holding scrambled eggs and apples, which Kirk hates, under his nose. Kirk would then pop out of bed and chase Dan around the house cursing him, while Dan laughed.

We arrived at Heathrow, London not too gently, but it was enough of a jolt to wake Sleeping Beauty. He asked, “Are we someplace yet? How did we get here? Where’s here?” His eyes were still closed while I told him, “When you open your eyes, you’ll see the thousands of colored butterflies that carried us here.” He replied, “You’re not gonna trick me into opening my eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter now; they’re all gone.” I gathered all the carry-ons, “We’re the last passengers. Grab some of your gear and let’s vamoose, before the cleaners sweep us out with the garbage.”

We breezed through the red tape despite my son’s unfunny jokes. The passport clerk said to me, “A real joker ain’t he, ma’am; should be on a stage?” I replied, “And I’ll put him on the first stage back to the States.” Kirk was a bright, inquisitive teen and I loved him dearly; but he was consistently a royal pain in the ass.

After getting a porter and tow-cart, we changed dollars to pounds. Fortunately, the money-changers provided “scorecards” itemizing the exchange rates, with a caution to check the rates daily at any bank or post office.

It was suggested that we save our money for the outdoor second-hand markets, where virtually anything may be found at bargain prices. Is England becoming a second-hand nation? It seemed that way, with unbelievable retail prices, the secondhand markets became a necessity for most people.

Hotels were especially pricey. Luckily we learned about the YMCA and got a room for about $38 per night, per couple, any couple. On the whole, most everything in London is costly, while some important things are cheap. The underground, for example, is a beautiful smooth riding subway. We rode the underground from the airport to London for about sixty cents, a 45-minute ride. Shorter rides cost less.

The pool and sauna were major attractions for me. Kirk was like a kid in a candy shop; his favorite pastimes were the trampolines and chasing the young ‘lovelies.’ The Y café was less expensive than other eateries, but that wasn’t saying much.

Today we walked to the old British Museum. They featured a huge display of 1600-1900 gold, plates, jewelry, stemware and clocks. The clock exhibit was separate and included current Lucite clocks with complex but visible Lucite gears, fascinating.

While the Lucite clock attracted a crowd, with Kirk up front, the display of grand-father clocks caught my attention. Some of the clocks were nine feet tall with elaborate gold inlay scroll work. There were clocks powered by marbles rolling back and forth, functioning like a pendulum. At four in the afternoon they all chimed, but we were in the reading room by then.

In the reading room there was a small exhibit of a desk and chair that Karl Marx used while writing
Capital
in the late 1800s. On the table the original three handwritten volumes of
Capital
were opened but enclosed in Lucite with external page turners for each volume, viewed on an electronic screen. The exhibit was funded by the British Labor Party.

An almost 180-degree view of the British Museum Reading Room
*

Like parking meters, visitors could insert a shilling in the slot and activate the page turners for ten minutes. A number dispenser provided numbered tickets, while the user’s number was flashed on a light board. I took number 71, while user 60 was at the screen. That amounts to 110 minutes to stroll other exhibits before my number came up.

I had my 35-mm Lica hoping to take photos of some exhibits. Instead I had to check my camera at the entrance. A booklet of exhibit numbers was provided so that I could check those exhibits I desired photos of and they would be provided at a small price, along with my camera when I was ready to leave. This is a pleasant and most efficient system. Leave it to the Brits.

At night we went to a Chinese restaurant in Piccadilly Circus. The food was excellent and reasonably priced. The mummy exhibit at the British Museum was far more impressive than Madam Toussard’s wax works, but I’m comparing apples and oranges.

Kirk’s View:

Our first day in London was great, but was ‘dust’ compared to our second day. We took our gear and switched to the Bedford Corner Hotel in Totingham Road after breakfast. Mom and I got to see the Toussard Wax Works today. To our surprise it was updated with likenesses of Jimmy Carter, Anwar Sadat, Ella Fitzgerald, Agatha Christie, Elton John, and others.

Lela Again:

After viewing the torture chambers, Kirk’s favorite, we visited the planetarium next door. The planetarium displays utilized lasers to demonstrate the aurora borealis and the “Jupiter effect” predicted for 1982, four planets in conjunction.

Predictions were made of major electrical, electronic and radio interference; but earthquakes and stuff falling from the heavens were thought unlikely. I can’t wait for 1982. The line-up of planets is between the Sun, Earth, Mars, Venus and Jupiter.

[Major problems did not occur from the predicted planetary alignment—unless we are all dead as a result. In any case, how would we know the difference between life and death?]

According to the lecturer, the Sun will make an oval orbit and the other planets will line-up in a linear configuration for a possibly strong gravitational pull on the Earth. After that cheery bit of news we dined on fish and chips, to drown our sorrows in grease.

Next day I woke early and took breakfast while Kirk insisted on sleeping-in. I sent a continental breakfast to him. He later told me the breakfast consisted of two stale buns, sugary white tea and some jam and butter. We then decided to move back to the Y, until our flight out on Sunday.

Over the next few days I took Kirk with me to various business appointments, but that was too tedious for him, so I parked him at the British Museum while I took care of business. I insisted that we meet in front of the main entrance each day at five in the afternoon. He kept this appointment each day which pleased me.

My interest was in ancient jewelry. I was able to view and purchase a selection of beautiful jewelry photos from ancient Sumer, Babylon, Egypt, and other areas of the Middle East. My business associates in Kabul will produce “knockoffs” from these photos.

It was amazing how much interest there was in Islamic and tribal art. Museums and boutiques in London provided requests for entire exhibits, and filling these purchase orders was a challenge. Since the revolutions in Afghanistan and Iran, business had been great, and I was selling everything I had acquired.

By the end of the week I had more purchase orders than I could fill. That made me a little anxious as I also had commitments in Frankfurt, Basel, and Zurich before flying to Kabul. After meeting Kirk at the Museum and shopping at a magic shop, Kirk’s passion, we took a bus to Chelsea for my last boutique appointment of the day and received a large order for jewelry and a gross of Afghan slipper socks.

We followed the news about Three Mile Island. This time it was a nuclear disaster in our back yard, what next? I believe we did the right thing, to split the family, with Paul and Erik out west, and Kirk and me going halfway around the world.

Most days in London were cloudy and drizzly. The morning of departure, we woke early and took the underground back to Heathrow Airport.

We spent a couple of days in Frankfurt, Basel and Zurich. While I promoted some purchase orders from museums and boutiques, Kirk bought items for gifts, barter, and trade. These included cheap calculators, cigarettes, pens, flashlights, and other small items. My standard gift was blue-jeans. All these gifts were forwarded to Kabul airport and held for us.

The final leg of the flight from Istanbul to Kabul, on ‘Scariana’ (Arianna) Airlines, featured a dreadful breakfast of sloppy powdered eggs, buns and jam. As we were famished, we ate it all. As we ‘inhaled’ breakfast, the blackness of early morning was lit by the gas fires over the vast oil fields of Iran. This spectacular sight was grander than the lights over Metro New York.

The huge patches of light from the Iranian and Azerbaijani (Baku) oil refinery ‘burn-off’ gas gradually gave way to the snow-capped mountains of Afghanistan. The south-western Caspian Sea shoreline was outlined by the reflection of the refinery ‘burn-off gas.’

A clear morning sunrise provided details of the massive mountains in northern Afghanistan. This was an amazing sight. Snow cover glistened on the northern slopes, while on the southern slopes fortress-like buildings were visible. These sights became clear as the 747 began its southerly descent toward Kabul.

Kirk asked me if Kabul was a collection of stone fortresses and mud huts like on the mountainsides. I told him, “Kabul is the capital of Afghanistan; it’s full of palaces, museums, government buildings, and bazaars. You’re going to love Kabul, especially the bazaars.