AFGHANISTAN: from love to hate ... TWO WEEKS OF MOUNTAIN TRANSITION (continued, ch.8) I barely drank one cup of tea. Despite the fact that this took some effort and time, I felt a wave of nausea. In the middle of the second cup, my stomach twisted, and I realized that I was about to be sick. Not getting out of a sleeping bag, I somehow managed to lap dobrel to the door, fell on his stomach and emptied the stomach in a black starless void. When it was over, I crawled back, lay down on his seat and fell asleep. I was awakened for supper, but I felt bad at the thought of eating, and I refused. The old man from Karchinda The next day I woke up with a migraine, which threatened to smash my head off. Wadud couple of tablets and several hours of continuous, strong tea, however, did their job, and I managed to put himself in a more usable state. By noon I was feeling well enough to eat a little bread and wander through Karchindu. The sun was shining, the sky was clear and the temperature quite bearable, given that I was ten layers of clothes. Two Kyrgyz women in red dresses beside yurts counted a huge flock of sheep. Their long white scarves held by a red cape on his head, which fluttered in the wind as they walked across the field. Men at this time lay next to a clay house and do nothing, being half asleep and did not even talking to each other. Tired, hungry, sick and frozen, that day I decided to turn back. Previously, I had planned to go for another three days before the end of Kyrgyz territory in the Small Pamir, then go back to the Sarhad, beating Big Pamir side. Thus, the entire hike in total would take four weeks. But since I've had enough, enough for me not only to Afghanistan, I thought, but perhaps this kind of extreme adventures in general. I just thought about returning to the Sarhad, the possibility to wash and eat anything except bread and yogurt and rice. Further thoughts on Ishkashim moved me even more, while Tajikistan has appeared in my mind as the last bastion of civilization, fine edge, where there is great food, people like me and very comfortable living conditions. At this point I decided to stop self-destructive behaviors, and returned to reality. - Tomorrow, you, me, go Varmdih - I said to Said. - Yes, - he agreed, nodding with understanding. - You Pamir very very problem. - Yes, - I admitted, trying to overcome the anger that has accumulated in me by his constant use of the word "problem" to me. - Sarhad, 4 days? - I asked. To get there, it took us 6 days, but we have prevented the bad weather, lack of knowledge of the route and the weakness of my legs. Said a while thought on the fingers of hours, days and places, and muttering something to himself. "Yes, 4 days" - he said after a while. At that decided to do. That night I ate so much rice as I could hold my already severely diminished stomach, and went to bed, excited prompt return Sarhad. Kirghiz of Karchinda morning, after breakfast salted tea and bread, we were getting ready for the next day's march. I photographed the old man and two young Badakhshani Kirgiz, one of whom was so delighted when he saw his picture on the screen of my camera, which immediately ran to his tent. The guy came back with a gift in the form of three large round loaves, still utter words of gratitude. On parting with the locals, we smiled at each other and shook hands, although during the whole stay in Karchinde we hardly let slip a few words. "Kyrgyz bread is not good," - said to me Said when we moved away from the village. - "And women are not beautiful." The first day of the return through the pass Akbilis was anything special not remarkable. We stopped for lunch at the first village just outside the pass. Fortified, we continued our way to the village Navabat, the last before the next pass, through which we get to the area Chpodkis. Horns on the roof of the house next day, at first seemed to turn into a nightmare. We almost did not eat for many days, so even bring myself to swallow a piece of bread became uneasy, and a small slope quickly exhausted my strength, forcing me to gasp again. However, in the end, we have overcome the steepest section on the way to snow-covered mountain pass, and I persisted, though with difficulty, to move his feet to the goal of our transition in the day, which was of us are still six hours away. I tried not to think about. Instead, I created in my mind images of juicy, tender meat, fresh salad, cup of cola or beer, and tried to concentrate on them. I knew that I was hungry, and my strength was almost nil, but my stomach has shrunk so much that even the thought of food seemed to be something incredible. Finished the same way as we approach the pass began to return to dizziness and disorientation. I started to seriously worry about whether I could again eat normally. Start material: Read more:
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