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Hospitality Found in Afghan Tea 

  • Writer: Andrea Rip
    Andrea Rip
  • Oct 31
  • 8 min read
“While you are here, we are family” – This assertion punctuated the beginning of our trip when we met our welcoming tour guides and driver in Kabul.


The reason behind this declaration was well-understood several hours later as we entered the family section of a restaurant for lunch on our trip out of Afghanistan’s capital toward the Bamiyan Valley. In this country, as in many predominantly Muslim nations, the section is curtained off so that women have the liberty to uncover their heads and dine more comfortably. For this trip, we spent three days dining together in this arrangement: Five independent multinational travelers sharing a table with three Afghan men who introduced us to their country, Afghanistan.


A young girl dressed in light pink with a matching headscarf poses for a portrait with a blurred background of just-blossoming green potato fields behind her and dry hills in the distance. Her face is tanned and freckled, her eyes are light with a small scar under the left eye that appears white. Her pink jacket has a red zipper.
A young girl poses for a photo near the Buddhas of Bamiyan in Afghanistan.

I have always wanted to visit this country. I hoped to experience the spaces I read about in Khaled Hosseini’s novels – to see the stunning mountains, explore the markets and streets through all the senses, and meet the resilient and more hardened people. Although friends had reinforced my desire to travel and already convinced me the country is safe to visit after the Taliban gained control – and one of my travel goals is to visit all seven of the “stan” countries – I wasn’t immediately attracted to this itinerary. The visa is expensive, the government isn’t recognized abroad, and once in the country, it seemed like a hassle to constantly cover my hair, arms, and ankles. However, a few weeks prior to the departure date, I cozied up with ‘The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul’ by Deborah Rodriguez, and within a few chapters, I was enamored by her description of the vibrance, movement, and colors of the city.


The inspiring line that really caught my attention read, “Remember that life is short and full of surprises. If you wait too long, opportunities fade like setting sun.” As Rodriguez exemplifies in the plot, Afghanistan is one of those places where things can change rapidly and might prevent travel for one reason or another. That was enough impetus to put my name on the itinerary with a friend, order two floor length abayas, and packed my bag for the long weekend.


Two men pose with their motorcycle on a mountain pass between Kabul and the Bamiyan Valley. One wears a grey scarf like a turban on his head. The other has draped a read scarf around his face to protect him from the wind. They have a cardboard box, presumably filled with local cherries strapped to the back of the bike that is complete with red, green, and blue stripped handlebars and a red seat decorated with a pomegranate pattern.
Two men pose with their motorcycle on a mountain pass between Kabul and the Bamiyan Valley.

The war is over. After 20 years, the US withdrew from Afghanistan in August of 2021. The Taliban took over. The fighting ceased.


This is important because when traveling there, visitors no longer risk being in the crossfire of war or in the wrong place at the wrong time when a public street or building is targeted. Travelers’ primary risk is in fines or detention at checkpoints for not following the rules like lowering their guard by having a camera pointed out the window at members of the regime, listening to music, or talking politics with the wrong person. Abject criticism or disobeying the law could land you in jail – so we followed the rules and never challenged anyone to assert their political views.


Below the ruins of Shahr-e-Gholghola, a boy guides his white donkey loaded up with wheat along a dirt path between green potato fields.
Below the ruins of Shahr-e-Gholghola, a boy guides his donkey loaded up with wheat along a path between green potato fields.

The Taliban, meaning "students," is a fundamentalist Muslim regime that is best known abroad for their suppression of women’s rights. Inside the country, the Taliban are the official government. They unfurled their own white flag, run or control various service offices and programs – like the police, national parks, universities, and military.  To the rest of the world, apart from Russia, the Taliban, and their flag, is not recognized. We found it odd that our visas were issued by the Consulate in Dubai which is topped with the old black, red, and green flag whereas in the country, it’s difficult to find that version flying anywhere.

The Taliban does not enjoy complete allegiance. There are still reportedly occasional internal uprisings, but tourists are unlikely to come across these. My biggest concern was keeping my shayla (headscarf), from slipping back and exposing too much hair – even in that case, tourists seem to get a small token of leniency when it comes to cultural faux paus.


Looking across the Bamiyan Valley from the UNESCO Heritage site of Shahr-e-Gholghola, the "City of Screams," to the site now empty of the Bamiyan Buddhas. The view is framed from a doorway carved into the sandstone of the ancient village.
Looking across the Bamiyan Valley from the UNESCO Heritage site of Shahr-e-Gholghola, the "City of Screams," to the UNESCO site now empty of the Bamiyan Buddhas.

Our three-day stay was packed with a road trip out to the beautiful Bamiyan Valley, onward to Band-e Amir lake, and then back to Kabul for a city tour to explore the colorful nooks and crannies that invite people to appreciate the lively capital.

Already, as we taxied into our parking spot on the Kabul International Airport tarmac, we noted familiarity to the place we saw in the news four years earlier: Where people clamored at the walls and gates and, in at least one case, even hung off of the last US C-17 airplanes to depart. History here isn’t only in the distant past; it’s raw and relevant to anyone over five years old.


Straight from our flight and after a coffee; a lunch behind curtains in a breezy outdoor restaurant; four hours and 12 checkpoints (where the four of us women in our van neatly checked each other’s scarf composition before our documents were checked), we arrived at the historic city of Kundur; now known colloquially as Shahr-e-Gholghola, which translates to “The City of Screams.” The people of Kundur would have enjoyed their architecturally beautiful trading town with tremendous views across the green valley to the Buddhas of Bamiyan – until Genghis Khan massacred the place in 1221. This conquest is how it received its unfortunate modern name.



It was a good leg-stretcher to climb up amongst the remains of this hilltop city. People still enjoy the view as its now an UNESCO Heritage Site. Locals hike to the top to spend time together as they were when we arrived. There were two men, one clearly Taliban with a white turban, drinking tea on the topmost reconstructed building. As the sun sunk low, they entertained a group of photo-friendly neighborhood children who eyed us curiously. As we scrambled to the rooftop, we were generously offered a seat with them and glass cups of tea. For a moment, we used the language of smiles, giggled with the children, and enjoyed the evening before heading down.


A wide angle view of one of the large Buddha frames carved into the orange Bamiyan Valley sandstone. Numerous smaller arches and windows contained hundreds of other Buddha statues. In the foreground is a field of green wheat and several deciduous trees.
A wide angle view of one of the large Buddha frames carved into the Bamiyan Valley sandstone. Numerous smaller arches and windows contained hundreds of other Buddha statues.

Across the valley, we walked parallel to the sandstone cliffs where the Bamiyan Buddhas once stood. After the Taliban blew up the ancient family of buddhas in 2001, the UNESCO Heritage Site now only offers empty frames carved out of the rock face. The locale is still popular with domestic tourists and townspeople. A group of children followed us around and took all sorts of photos with us while young adults were happy to strike up a conversation about their life in Afghanistan.


Doorways and arches are carved into the sandstone in the Bamiyan Valley. Two enormous Buddhas were carved into this sandstone with a multitude of smaller Buddhas in more diminutive coves and frames. A man can be discovered in this photograph; seen reading or resting in one of the arches in the massive wall.
A man sits in one of the carved frames in the sandstone where the Bamiyan Buddhas used to stand.

The following morning, I had a terrible migraine, and I ended up in nauseated discomfort as we bumped along from Bamiyan to Band-e Amir. At the gate of the National Park, my head had enough, nearly losing my granola bar breakfast. I asked to get out of the van for fresh air and regain a sense of calm. The Taliban guard at the park entrance and our guide suggested that I cool my face and neck with some lake water that was streaming into a small crystal-clear pond across the road. I indulged them and carefully placed my damp cool hands from the water under my scarf on the back of my neck. As I returned to the vehicle, they suggested I sit in the guard’s chair and enjoy the quiet outdoor space for a few minutes with a cup of tea. It hadn’t crossed my mind that a woman (even a tourist) would be looked after so well by two men.


An Afghan man wears a khandahari cap and stands in front of a brilliant blue Band-e Amir Lake in Afghanistan. The surrounding tan-colored hills and cliffs are dull and dry, but the lake looks like a jewel in comparison.
Our Afghan driver wears a new Khandari-style cap in Band-e Amir National Park.

It was on the way back to Kabul that I realized what I respected in the people of Afghanistan – their hospitality. The entire road trip, I had observed our driver popping into homes and guardhouses at nearly every stop and coming back to the van with a tea, milk, or sweets in hand. At first, I thought he knew a few folks along the way from previous journeys; and this is likely, but it’s also common to offer visitors, such things when they turn up at your door – even a bed to sleep in.



Back in Kabul, although busier, I kept my eye out for this open hand. I found it in a shopkeeper that stayed late so we could visit Babur’s Gardens while it was still light and still return to his shop. We saw it in the enthusiasm to keep traditional portrait photography with a 100-year-old box camera operational at a modern print shop where we had our pictures taken. It was evident in the way women and girls approached us to practice their English or to share their exasperation of being cut off from formal education. I experienced it again in a shop where I bought some decorative wooden stamps and the shop keeper spent time explaining where they were from – and threw in an additional one for free.


It’s fair to say that I don’t agree with a lot of the Taliban ideology. There is no doubt that their fundamentalist Muslim patriarchal leadership is repressive to their population – especially women (noting obvious parallels with how conservative fundamentalist Christians choose to apply the word “submission” to wives and the term “head of household” to their husbands) – but this trip wasn’t about the regime change, the politics or religion, pressuring anyone to say negative things about their government that would get them in trouble; nor trying to find ways to bring my perspective to their people – which would be unwelcome anyway because (long pause for effect) ... I’m a woman.


The mosque Rawza Sakhi Shah-e-Mardan with turquoise domes, elaborate tiles has four visible minarets and three large domes from this symmetrical front view. On the steps of the mosque are two men taking photos. To the right is the women's prayer hall entrance, and the mens' is to the left.
Sakhi Shar-e Mardan Shrine, also known as Kabul's Blue Mosque in front of Television Hill.

I went on this three day excursion to Afghanistan to seek humanity and see a small part of the different human experiences and listen to stories similar to those Rodriguez wrote about from her time in Kabul – real people living in their communities and the world – and then to find out what the books I’ve read, news pundits, military forces, and NGOs share adequately or omit, while giving myself a slightly better understanding through experiencing life in the Country.


To truly unravel my curiosities, I would need to spend much more time in Afghanistan. I would visit the other provinces, spend more than a few minutes with people to carry on conversations we had to cut short, or indulge in offers for tea in people’s homes. However, on a high level, I found what I set out to see; humanity exemplified in hospitality. It’s embedded in the Afghan people, even members of the Taliban, who smile and are grateful for explorers who will come and see their land; in meals shared with our impromptu tourism family; in the stories of the cultural highlights and modern historical horrors; and in all those brief conversations – often over a cup of coffee or tea.


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If you're interested in reading more about the hospitality found in Afghanistan and Afghan tea – along with information about the places we visited on this trip, click on the links in the article or those below:



‘The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul’ by Deborah Rodriguez

Kite Runner (and other books) by Khaled Hosseini


This exploration of Afghanistan was booked through Trekkup Dubai. This blog is not sponsored.





© 2025 Andrea Rip | The Earth Ink. All rights reserved.


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