Things to Do in Kabul in January

The Gardens of Babur, Bagh-e Babur, sit on a terraced hillside in southwestern Kabul. In January the bare plane trees and frost-dusted stone pathways give the 500-year-old Mughal garden a stripped-down beauty that the lush green of spring obscures. The tomb of Emperor Babur, founder of the Mughal dynasty, sits at the top terrace. On a cold January morning you might have the entire garden to yourself. The light is low and golden through the bare branches. The marble headstone is cold to the touch. The gardens were heavily damaged during the civil war but have been carefully restored. The caretakers who maintain them tend to be willing to share stories about the restoration work if you speak Dari or Pashto. Dress in layers. The wind cuts across the open terraces. Come in the late morning when the air has had a chance to warm above freezing and the worst of the smog has thinned slightly. Allow roughly two hours for a full walk through all the terraces.

The National Museum sits on the road to Darulaman in southwestern Kabul. In January its unheated galleries feel like walking through a cold stone warehouse. This makes the contents all the more striking. The Bagram Ivories, Gandharan Buddhist sculptures with Hellenistic features carved two thousand years ago, and the few remaining pieces from the Tillya Tepe gold hoard sit in display cases that have survived Soviet occupation, civil war, and Taliban iconoclasm. Some galleries remain closed. The collection is a fraction of what it once held. Thousands of objects were looted or destroyed between 1992 and 2001. What remains is irreplaceable. The Kushan-era coins alone tell a story of a crossroads civilization that most travelers have never encountered. Bring a flashlight. Power cuts can plunge interior rooms into darkness. The museum tends to close early in winter, so arriving before noon is wise. The cold inside is real. Keep your coat on.

Mandawi is Kabul's oldest commercial bazaar, a dense grid of covered alleyways in the middle of the old city where the smell of cardamom, raw wool, and wood smoke mingles in the cold January air. The traders here sell everything from handwoven Turkmen carpets to Chinese electronics, and in winter the textile merchants pile their stalls high with heavy woolen pattu shawls and sheepskin-lined chapan coats that locals wear through the coldest months. The nearby Ka Faroshi bird market, a narrow lane crammed with wire cages of partridges, finches, and fighting quail, has operated in some form for over a century and remains one of Kabul's most singular sensory experiences: the flutter and chatter of hundreds of birds bouncing off stone walls in a passageway barely wide enough for two people. January mornings in Mandawi start late by bazaar standards, with most stalls opening after 9 AM as merchants wait for the chill to ease. The tea shops scattered through the market serve scalding green tea in glass cups alongside sugar-coated almonds, and these tiny warm rooms are where the real social life of the bazaar plays out.

Darul Aman Palace stands at the end of a long ceremonial avenue in western Kabul, and in January, with snow dusting its neoclassical facade and the mountains rising behind it, the ruin has a stark grandeur that warm-weather visits lack. Built in the 1920s under King Amanullah as a symbol of Afghan modernization, the palace has been shelled, burned, and fought over so many times that its bullet-pocked columns and collapsed dome have become a kind of unintentional monument to the last century of Afghan history. Partial restoration efforts have stabilized the exterior, and you can walk the grounds and photograph the facade, though interior access varies depending on current security protocols. The wind on the exposed hilltop in January can be vicious, gusts that carry fine grit and drop the windchill well below freezing, so plan on no more than an hour unless you're properly layered. The drive out from central Kabul passes through areas of varying security, so travel with someone who knows the current situation on the ground.

Kabul's food culture peaks in winter, and January is when the city's signature dish, kabuli pulao, reaches its richest form. The rice is slow-steamed with lamb shanks, carrots cut into thin matchsticks, and raisins until the fat renders through every grain, and the dish arrives mounded on a communal platter with a sheen of oil that catches the light. In winter, the lamb is fattier and the portions are heavier, and the established pulao houses in the Shar-e Naw and Karte-e Seh neighborhoods serve it alongside shorwa, a bone broth soup with turnips and potatoes that warms you from the inside in a way no radiator could. The tandoor naan in January is its own experience, the bread comes out of clay ovens so hot you juggle it between your hands, the bottom charred in spots, the top soft and slightly sour from long fermentation. Bolani, stuffed flatbreads filled with gandana leeks or mashed potato, fry on flat griddles at street stalls, and the sound of them sizzling in shallow oil is as constant a backdrop in winter Kabul as the call to prayer. Eat with your right hand, tear the naan, and use it to scoop. This is food designed for cold weather, and it works.