May 9, 2010
Where to party in the world's war zones
Hardcore cities have hardcore clubbing scenes. Kate, 37, a TV news producer, reveals the secret party life of Kabul
The weekend starts on a Thursday in the Muslim world, and Kabul is no different. As the sun goes down, the devout turn their minds to prayer, but for the international crowd of journalists, diplomats, NGO workers and mercenaries, the weekend is all about chasing alcohol. It isn’t illegal, but the vice and virtue ministry introduced laws a few years back to make it far more difficult to get hold of. You can buy it in hotels, clubs and restaurants, but everyone has a bootlegger — either a diplomat selling off his extra supply or a well-connected local.
Last month, the government cracked down hard on anyone selling illegal alcohol, and the atmosphere has become much more tense, but the harder it is to get, the more people drink, and the fact that the main ingredient of every party is tinged with danger only adds to the charged atmosphere. In addition, many diplomats, UN and military types have curfews, and must be back on their compounds by 10pm, which intensifies the binge-drinking.
Popular hang-outs include the Kabul Health Club, with its organic menu, and the lovely outdoor pool at the Serena hotel. If we’re in the mood to party, we meet at Gandamak Lodge, owned by a former BBC cameraman, Peter Juvenal. The bar is themed around the Flashman books. The military love it. They throw a lot of black-tie dinners there, including the annual Trafalgar Ball, which commemorates British military victories.
If it’s a Friday, we go to L’Atmosphère, L’Atmo for short. It’s a very good French restaurant (excellent frog’s legs, foie gras and steak, and an impressive cellar), and there’s a bar and swimming pool. We arrive all covered up, but then strip down to sit by the pool.
The hedonism in Kabul is full-on, fast-paced and only for the hardcore, but I wouldn’t call it cool. I went to one party where a woman stood by the door flicking a light switch on and off — that was our disco. Things are looking up, though. A new dance club, Martini’s, which is owned by rich, well-connected Afghans, is extraordinary. Hidden on a residential street, it doesn’t have a sign. You have to know where it is, and there are armed guards on the door. You can’t blag your way in, you have to be on the list.
Inside, it is enormous and, with fake rustic wooden furniture and purple and green wall paper, like a bar in Shoreditch. The house drink is a pomegranate martini. There are DJs every Thursday and Friday, and the city’s hottest band, Kabul Dreams, played there recently — they do a mean cover of Oasis’s Wonderwall. There are lots of glammed-up blondes who look as if they have stepped out of Chelsea. They don’t wear miniskirts; it’s all about skinny jeans. The guys wear jeans, trendy trainers and beanies. Everyone dances downstairs, but the interesting stuff goes on in the upstairs VIP suite, which has a private entrance. Here, you might get a notorious local warlord mixing with It girls and the political elite.
Everyone is young, ambitious and keen to make contacts. The barriers you would normally find are down and sex is never far from the agenda. Men outnumber women, and they are always on the lookout. Their first interest is whether you are single and available. I heard of one party where guests had to jump into the pool to get condoms, but in any conflict area, that combo of a big NGO community, hacks and mercenaries is fiery.
Kabul has a dark side. Guns are everywhere and all the bars and restaurants have metal detectors. There’s a security lobby that you go through first, with signs reading “Drinking alcohol? No weapons”. The guards check your bag, then they open another door and you find yourself on a lawn or a path to the restaurant.
Most of the really rowdy stuff happens at private houses. People are wilder and feel able to let their hair down properly in private, especially since the government crackdowns on foreign drinking holes. It’s all about who you know. There’s a group of Old Etonian types who throw good parties. They love fancy dress and threw a hilarious “tarts and Taliban” party. Most people came as Taliban — it was easier to get away with the costume because of the security restrictions.
A few drinks on a Friday or Saturday often lead to an all-nighter. If you don’t have a good war story, you feel very left out. It’s all about who can tell the most gripping tale. In Kabul, you never know what’s going to happen the next day. There’s nothing fun about covering a breaking news story with a stonking hangover, but that’s no excuse to stay in.
