TRAVERSE 23
TRAVEL- IRAN
ROCCO ANTONIO COSSA
THEY CALLED ME BROTHER
I
’ ll tell you how, when, and why I decided to leave Salento, Italy, and ride all the way to Afghanistan on a small KTM 390 Adventure. I’ ve always been a somewhat lazy motorcyclist. To undertake a long journey, I need a strong reason— something powerful enough to push me beyond the comfort of my routines into days filled with adrenaline, exhaustion, and the inevitable mountain of bureaucracy.
I’ ve been dreaming of Afghanistan since 2018, when I rode along its border for over 500 kilometres on the Pamir route from Ishkashim to Dushanbe. I could see the country in the distance but couldn’ t enter; at the time, crossing was next to impossible.
Then came the American withdrawal. When I heard that the border could once again be crossed, the pull was immediate. Literature often calls Afghanistan“ a Hell populated by devils”— and I wanted to feel their breath for myself. I sensed that this, and only this, was the right moment to go. Tomorrow, perhaps, Afghanistan would already be different.
This time I would travel alone. Angela, my companion on countless journeys, couldn’ t leave her job. I knew I’ d miss her, but before facing the long, solitary stretches ahead, I wanted to fill my heart with friendship and laughter— the kind of chaotic joy only my Balkan friends can provide.
So I planned a detour to Serbia’ s infamous Guca Trumpet Festival, passing through Albania to reach it. A dose of madness before the silence.
Standing on the ship’ s deck, I watched the sun set behind Salento, its orange glow fading over the sea.
When I disembarked in Durres, two Hungarian friends were waiting— they’ d ridden all the way from Pécs just to escort me to Serbia. The
TRAVERSE 23