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July 25, 2022

Last winter I wrote about an adventure trip I took with my son to Iraq. Our latest trip was to Central Asia, specifically the countries of Tajikistan and Kazakhstan.

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What lessons can an American learn taking the road less traveled to remote and exotic parts of the world?

The trip began with a call from my son, who works in the airline industry, and who has traveled to 151 countries thus far, asking me if I wanted to go on another adventure trip with him. Enthusiastically answering ‘yes’ but hesitating to ask where, I had to check a map to see where I would be traveling over our two-week jaunt.

He has visited most of the low-hanging fruit countries, so all that’s left are places no one has ever heard of, or else is afraid to go anywhere near. My friends thought once again I was crazy for going to the ends of the earth rather than to a normal tourist destination like Alaska or a large European city.

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The U.S. State Department warned for both countries, Tajikistan and Kazakhstan, of the dangers of terrorism and civil unrest, although on these trips, I feel far safer than I would venturing into nearby downtown Denver late at night or other American crime-ridden cities like Chicago, Baltimore, or Philadelphia.

Just like our trip to Iraq, we hired a car, driver, and guide to take us from Dushanbe, Tajikistan east into one of the most remote parts of the world, the Wakhan Valley between Tajikistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Kyrgyzstan.

Driving along the Panj River, Afghanistan on the other side of the raging waters, gave a glimpse of life in that war-torn country after America abruptly and foolishly exited last year, leaving the Taliban in charge. In the scorching heat, Afghan women are dressed head to toe in black burkas, working in the fields. Aspirations of girls and women to attend school or earn a professional degree are a thing of the past, thanks to President Biden pulling America out of Afghanistan, leaving with our tails between our legs.

Taliban patrols, flying the Taliban flag with likely an American made-machine gun mounted on the bed of an American pick-up truck, all left behind during our ignominious withdrawl, patrolled the dirt roads between small villages, all souvenirs of the cut and run American presence for almost 20 years in that country.

Did we belong in Afghanistan that long? Probably not, but there are ways to leave, and we did it the wrong way. But I digress.

Seeing what life is like in an Afghan village gave me a sense of gratitude for the abundance in my life as an American.