Sacks of almonds and pistachios from the Samangan hills sit open in the bazaar, and carpets knotted in nearby homes lie folded beside them. Traders weigh and bargain while the harvest of the valley changes hands, and the Khulm River runs past only a few streets away.
Above the fields, Takht-e Rostam keeps a stupa and a monastery cut straight into the rock, and the valleys to the north hide old cave dwellings. Summers are hot and almost rainless, while rain and snow arrive between November and April. A Local Friend can translate the bazaar banter, read the road ahead and sense when the day needs a change.




