Choose your own bread....In Herat, life means bazaar: vendors with ascetic looking beards, price shouting soprano kids, all spinning according to that stunning, if austere, bazaar astronomy. Bakers pull out large rectangular breads that just seconds ago they had glued in the domed walls of their underground ovens. A full street seems consecrated to kebab vendors. They sizzle their miniature kebabs just next to the tables designated to customers, making the whole experience of dinner akin to the gas chamber. A man sells fake Rolex kept in a glass box that also exhibits a bunch of mixed Euro and Dollar bills: he is also the exchange office. I even find my beloved “Zam Zam Cola” that I had got used to in Iran, so I can fill my stomach with bubbles in a politically correct way.