Herat, Afghanistan

I once worked in a Wyoming restaurant with a young man from Afghanistan named Zia. On my last night there, I told him that I was going traveling to India; he suggested that I go also to Afghanistan. He said that he would give me a letter to deliver, to his family, and that I would then be welcome to stay with them. He said to come to his apartment the following day and the letter would be ready.

When I arrived, Zia asked me in to tell me a bit more about his town and family, and also to introduce me to his wife, whom he had met in Wyoming. I asked her if she had been to Afghanistan, and she said no, but that she hoped to be going soon. They bid me farewell and off I went.