#travel

I have been watching videos lately from a young woman who travels around Russia.

She goes to places I would like to see myself someday: Siberia, Lake Baikal, the Ural Mountains. Her videos are quiet and beautiful. There are trains, snowy roads, apartments, forests, meals, conversations, long stretches of landscape.

What struck me most recently, though, was something almost completely unrelated to the scenery.

She cannot monetize the videos.

Google deactivated Russia-based AdSense accounts in August 2024, and YouTube still says that creators with Russia-based AdSense accounts cannot monetize their channels. The restriction is one of a long series of measures connected to Russia's invasion of Ukraine.

That makes sense at the level where we usually discuss international affairs.

Russia invaded Ukraine. Other countries and international companies responded. Sanctions and restrictions followed.

But then the abstraction travels downward.

Eventually it reaches somebody filming Lake Baikal.

That is where the situation starts to feel different.

A Country and the People Inside It

It is easy to talk about countries as though they were people.

Russia invaded.

America threatened.

China wants.

France objects.

Iran retaliates.

We do this because it is useful shorthand. Governments really do act on behalf of states, and those actions have consequences.

But nations contain millions of people who may have had almost nothing to do with those decisions.

Hold on to your hiking boots, because if you thought Afghanistan was all endless desert, prepare to be blown away by Band-e Amir. Located deep in the Hindu Kush range, this national park—established in 2009—boasts six lakes so wildly turquoise they look like someone spilled a vat of Gatorade. Each lake has its own hue: deep sapphire, emerald green… even a hint of violet when spring melts the snow. It’s like nature decided to show off. 🌈🏞️

Local legend claims these lakes were formed when a mountain dragon dug out a giant bathtub to cool off, and its magical breath tinted the waters those impossible colors. Geologists, of course, credit the limestone bedrock, which releases minerals that reflect sunlight in dazzling ways. Dragon or science, the result is undeniably breathtaking. 🐉🔬

From April to June, Band-e Amir attracts city slickers from around the world, armed with DSLR cameras and serious zen intentions. Afghan families pack picnics of aushak (dumplings stuffed with onions and mint) and set up food stalls along the shore while kids chase ducks and locals fish for Schizothorax—a native trout species. It’s a vibrant mix of photography buffs, foodies, and nature lovers all in one place. 🐟🍲

If you’re up for a moderate trek, you can climb to viewpoints that look like Renaissance paintings—snow-capped peaks framing vibrant blue lakes that seem almost too beautiful to exist. Local tales claim that back in 1979, during the Soviet–Afghan War, a group of soldiers stumbled upon Band-e Haibat and, in a moment of surreal contrast to the conflict, jammed on makeshift drums with their AK-47s laid aside. Whether fact or legend, it captures the lakes’ magical aura. 🎶🏔️

Did you know that in what is now Afghanistan, there was a university so old it makes Oxford and Cambridge look like toddlers? Yep, it was called the University of Balkh (or the “Madrasah of Balkh”), flourishing around the 9th century in the city once known to the Greeks as Bactra. This scholarly hotspot was a melting pot where Buddhists, Muslims, Christians, and Persian sages gathered to debate the stars and human nature. Imagine a place where everyone swapped ideas over steaming mugs of cardamom tea! 🤓✨

Picture this: luminaries like Al-Jahiz and the mathematician Abu-Mansur of Garras roamed those halls. They were so prolific, churning out scrolls on philosophy, astronomy, and medicine by the dozen, that they often needed extra hands just to carry all the manuscripts. Meanwhile, tea brewed constantly and debates raged hot—sometimes literally, since there wasn’t a central heating system back then. ☕️😄

After the Mongol invasion in the 13th century, the Madrasah of Balkh was largely destroyed, but its manuscripts scattered far and wide: some ended up in Baghdad’s libraries, others made their way to India. Without those preserved scrolls, many Greek and Persian texts might have vanished forever. So here’s to Balkh for saving a chunk of world knowledge—like a medieval backup drive for civilization! 📚🌍

Today, all that remains are a few weathered ruins and a handful of stone carvings, but the spirit of that university lives on in Balkh’s narrow streets, the stories of its elders, and the dusty libraries where medieval manuscripts still rest. If you want to impress your friends on Zoom, just mention you’re studying at “Afghanistan’s first Harvard,” and watch their jaws drop in scholarly envy. 😏🎓