My mom sent this postcard from Kabul to her grandma (my namesake) back in Illinois in 1965.
I love the description of the photo:
Afghan national dance or “Atan” is exciting and full of pep. This photograph shows a few people from the suburbs of Kabul, the nation’s capital.
Traveling alone at the age of 23, my mom wrote this postcard the day she arrived in Kabul from India. (India, she told me, was the most depressing country she’d visited.) After five days in Afghanistan, she went on to Teheran.
I love these old postcards, but sometimes I want to cry when I read them. Single 23 year-old women don’t travel to Afghanistan or Iran for fun anymore. And people aren’t dancing in the suburbs of Kabul full of pep.
Do people even dance there at all now?