We weren’t sure about going to Afghanistan and it wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but the situation in Iran gave us no other choice: we had to cross into Afghanistan to get to Pakistan, because by then, every other land border was already closed.
We expected tension, fear, and maybe even regret. But just one day in, everything flipped, this wasn’t the Afghanistan we’d seen in the headlines. Not even close. It was raw, yes. But it was also real – and nothing like we had imagined (This is just what we have seen and experienced so far).
The central Route plan: We could have headed straight to Kabul like most travelers do. But we wanted to see what lies between the cities. So we chose the road less traveled: the Central Route. Locals warned us and advised not to take that route, road conditions were extremely bad. But we had to, we wanted to.
Great Mosque of Herat, (Masjid-i Jami‘-i Herat). It’s one of the oldest and most beautiful mosques in Afghanistan, first built in the 12th century under the Ghurid dynasty, a classic example of Persian-Islamic architecture.
Quite surprised about the vibe of Herat city. We liked it from the first minute we arrived.
Our first stop was Herat, and what a surprising welcome it was. A modern, relaxed, even elegant vibe. Must be the most modern city of Afghanistan. We felt quite at ease and this was exactly what we needed after the hectic, exhausting, and nerve-grinding last days in Iran. In Herat, we could finally exhale a little, wander without pressure, and let ourselves ease into this new chapter of the journey. The city became our soft landing — a first impression that reshaped our expectations of Afghanistan completely.
First ride in a Tuk-Tuk in Afghanistan.
Even the tuk-tuks were far more modern than we had imagined.
The owner of the traditional Afghan bakery seemed surprised to see us walk in, but was very proud to pose for the picture.
Tandoor Baking: a traditional clay oven heated with wood or coal. Bakers slap the stretched dough onto the inner wall of the blazing-hot oven, where it sticks and bakes quickly.
PAVED ROAD QUICKLY DISAPPEARD
In their place: dusty trails, broken roads, and river crossings. The modern world faded with each kilometer as we left Herat. What remained was a land touched by history. Remote mountain villages where people live as they have for generations. Places where life is hard but deeply rooted. More than one local guide warned us not to take that road, it was in terrible shape, they said. And they weren’t wrong. But instead of stopping us, the warning only fueled our excitement. Driving into the unknown really felt like stepping into a new big adventure. A little did we know, but this was just the beginning of our greatest journey yet.
The beauty of these landscapes often leaves us speechless. One thing’s for sure though: we were never, ever bored driving through it. The journey was tough, but it revealed a side of Afghanistan that felt timeless. Remote mountain villages appeared like mirages, clusters of mud-brick houses clinging to the slopes. Life here is hard, yet deeply rooted, carried forward in traditions, resilience, and community.
Driving the Central Route wasn’t just about reaching Kabul. It was about tracing a path through history, through landscapes and lives untouched by the outside world. It was about stepping into a raw, real Afghanistan that most will never see.
A quick stop with a view: At the Deh-e Khan Lake.
Tracing the winding, narrow trails that snake their way through Afghanistan’s colorful mountains.
One of the many Taliban checkpoints: they asked for our passports and travel permits, but since most of them couldn’t read, we ended up explaining what was written inside ourselves.
THE TALIBANS
Along the way, we passed through numerous Taliban checkpoints. And yes, they were all heavily armed. But to our surprise, every encounter was calm and friendly. Most of the men we met were curious about us, where we came from and why we traveling in a tank (they probably never seen a Defender). It was surreal and just another layer of the contradictions that make Afghanistan so impossible to box in.
How different it became after the first view encounters with the Talibans. First time we met them at the border crossing from Iran, we almost shit our pants. Two days later we were sitting with them drinking tea in their compounds trying to have a conversation with nothing but hand gestures and smiles. What started in fear turned into something strangely human, even surreal.
The Afghanistan/Taliban flag: There is no deity but God, Muhammad is the messenger of God, Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan.
“Why are you TRAVELING in a TANK?”
Our first campsite: the wind picked up hard, so we took shelter behind a small mosque.
Not far from a Taliban camp, a few men approached us and assured us they’d keep watch through the night — “you are safe, no problem” they said.
WHEN THINGS TURN BAD
We were slipping further back in time and a strange silence settled in — the kind that makes you hyper-aware of every creak and cough from your car. There was only one real fear pulsing through our minds: what if the car breaks down out here? After one final huge pothole and another huge bump, we heard it: a sharp crack. Something was off. Very off. The right rear shock absorber snapped completely, and the broken bolt nearly sliced into the inside of the tire. To make things worse, the sway bar bolt also broke - we lost the entire piece along with the bushings. Had to remove the broken shock and improvise a fix for the sway bar using a strap. All of this in the middle of nowhere, with at least 300 km of nothing ahead of us. Mental breakdown territory. #mentalbreakdown
There were moments when the scenery left us speechless — too vast, too raw, too beautiful to describe. Out here, time slowed, but our wonder never did.
Crossing Afghanistan was never part of our original plan, but sometimes the best stories come from the unexpected. And this turned into one of the most intense, unforgettable journeys we’ve ever taken.
Like most people, our imagination had already been shaped by the headlines. The media had painted a picture of fear, danger, and chaos. Add to that the countless warnings we heard along the way, Don’t go, it’s too dangerous,’ ‘Be careful at every step.’ This we had in the back of our minds until we left the country.
We never expected to feel the kind of respect we felt here. Respect for the resilience of the people, for the way life continues despite every challenge, for the mountains and landscapes that humble you at every turn. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always comfortable.
