Last Updated on: 7th May 2026, 12:02 am
Afghanistan could be said to have two capitals: Kabul, the country’s largest city and where most administrative offices are located, and Kandahar, the spiritual heart of the country, where the Taliban’s supreme leader is based.
But Kandahar has been significant for millennia. Situated along a strategic route connecting South and Central Asia, historical greats like Alexander, Ashoka, and Babur have all left their mark on the city. And it would serve as the capital of the Hotak dynasty and the mighty Durrani Empire.
Still, even among the few tourists daring enough to travel to Afghanistan, a lot of people skip Kandahar. It’s somewhat out of the way, while it’s widely regarded as the country’s most conservative city. Kabul feels noticeably liberal in comparison.
Kandahar is indeed an intense place. And throughout my short time there, I had numerous experiences that will stick with me for a long time. While I didn’t head to Kandahar with the intention of doing journalism, I feel compelled to recount my interactions with the locals, and will thus be interspersing personal accounts throughout the following travel guide.
'I Used to Work for The Americans'
Not knowing what the day would entail, I woke up early and started heading over to the Khirka Sharif Complex. But during the walk over, I was passing by a random auto parts shop when a family called out to me and invited me inside for chai.
Kandahar is a majority Pashtun city. And from my prior experiences in Peshawar, Pakistan, I’d already gotten a taste of Pashtunwali, or the ethical code of the Pashtuns that places a great emphasis on hospitality.
The next thing I knew, I was chatting with multiple generations of an extended family, not to mention some of the neighbors. And then the conversation turned to politics.
The man running the shop next door told me how he used to be employed by the US military. And upon the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, he had to flee for a while to Quetta, Pakistan. ‘You would just see bodies lying on the streets,’ he told me as he pointed to the sidewalk outside.
I asked him if he felt safe back in Kandahar. ‘Well, the Taliban knows about me and they know about my past working with the Americans,’ he said. ‘They’re not going to arrest me, but at the same time, I’m basically blacklisted from getting any good job here. So I just run my simple shop.’
People often bring up the tensions between different Afghan ethnicities when discussing the country’s complex dynamics. But Kandahar saw decades of Pashtuns fighting against fellow Pashtuns. And now they’re all trying to coexist side by side somehow.
Before long, his friend showed up. He was a former soldier with the Afghan National Army, and he now largely obscures his face when going out to avoid being recognized. Nevertheless, he asked for a selfie with me and pulled down the end of his large turban for the photo.
He said he was promised a US visa by his former commander, but it never came. And he’s lost the contact info of a lot of people he used to work with. Now he’s waiting for any news of a visa from the US government, but he hasn’t heard from them in months.
After helping the young ones practice their English over a few more cups of chai, I realized that I’d have to get going if I was going to get any sightseeing done. So we said our goodbyes and I proceeded toward the Khirka Sharif Complex.
The Khirka Sharif Complex
The top attraction in central Kandahar would have to be the Khirka Sharif complex, home to two of the city’s most significant landmarks: the Mausoleum of Ahmad Shah Durrani and the Shrine of the Cloak of Muhammad.
When traveling through Afghanistan, one will need to obtain new regional permits in every province that they stay in, and Kandahar is no exception.
But the Khirka Sharif complex also requires its own specific permit – the only such case I encountered in the country. When obtaining your provincial permit at the local Ministry of Information & Culture office, be sure to ask for it.
Arriving at the complex with my permits in hand, I was walked over to a building off to the side and briefly interviewed in English by a Taliban official. He was soft-spoken and polite, and asked me about my experience in the country thus far.
But he also asked if I’d be open to ‘change my religion,’ and I told him ‘I’d have to think about it.’ Kandahar was the only place I visited in Afghanistan where people actively tried to convert me, and this wouldn’t be the last instance.
After the caretaker explained some basic rules, I was finally allowed to explore. But despite going through the trouble of obtaining a special permit, as a non-Muslim, I still wasn’t even allowed to enter the mausoleum itself.
The interior is said to feature yellow and brown, a color scheme I’d later see at the Mausoleum of Mirwais Hotak (more below).
The octagonal structure is still beautiful from the outside, while it houses a figure who has played a pivotal role in the history of Kandahar and Afghanistan as a whole.
Some call Ahmad Shah Durrani (r. 1747-1772) the founder of modern Afghanistan. In addition to Afghanistan, the Durrani Empire controlled territory in Iran, Central Asia, and India with Kandahar as its first capital (Kabul, Peshawar and Herat served as later capitals).
Durrani invaded India multiple times and annexed various territories from a weakened Mughal Empire. He even fought against the Maratha Empire, longtime rivals of the Mughals.
Impressively, he participated in most of his kingdom’s relentless military campaigns and rarely lost a battle.
Durrani was also responsible for the other main structure of the complex, an ornate shrine that hosts a cloak which belonged to the Prophet Muhammad himself.
Though originally taken to Uwais al-Qarani, Saudi Arabia upon Muhammad’s death, it was eventually taken to Baghdad and then to Samarkand (or some say Bukhara) by Timur.
And then, after being taken to India, the cloak moved around to various parts of Afghanistan.
Finally in 1768, Ahmad Shah Durrani decided to move the cloak to his capital of Kandahar. (It stopped at what was to become the location of Kabul’s Sakhi Shrine along the way.) And it’s remained in the Khirka Sharif Complex ever since.
While the shrine was initiated by Ahmad Shah Durrani, it was completed by his successor, Timur Shah Durrani (r. 1772–1793).
The cloak is sometimes displayed to the public, but only very rarely.
The most recent occurrence was in April 1996, when Muhammad Omar, the founder of the Taliban, held it up to a large crowd of onlookers and declared himself the ‘Commander of the Faithful.’ (Several months later in September, the Taliban would capture Kabul, establishing the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan).
Before that, the cloak had been removed from the shrine about 60 years prior.
While I didn’t expect to be allowed inside the building, the guards prohibited me from walking in the outer courtyard at all.
At the edge of the compound, I noticed another mausoleum that appeared to either be under construction or renovation. And it was largely walled off.
Upon doing some research, it turned out to be a much more recent construction intended to entomb Abdul Raziq Achakzai, a former chief of police who served until his assassination in 2018.
Throughout his tenure, Achakzai was accused of numerous human rights violations, including torture and disappearances. His victims may have numbered in the hundreds, if not thousands. And he also became incredibly wealthy through alleged drug smuggling.
Yet, throughout the US occupation period, this fierce anti-Taliban police chief was never prosecuted for any of his crimes.
The Juice Stand
As I made my way out of the complex, I was approached by an adult male and a young teenager. We could barely communicate, but they were clearly interested in me and pointed to a nearby juice stand.
Based on their body language, it was clear they wanted me to pay. I was feeling in a generous mood thanks to the friendly family I’d met earlier, so I didn’t mind.
As we were waiting for the juice to come, the adult opened his wallet and showed me an old ID card. It was from his time in the Afghan National Army. He smiled as he held his finger up to his lips. ‘Shhhhh.’
Finishing the juice, it was time to pay, but I was shortchanged by the shopkeeper. The younger kid, who spoke a bit of English, told me to forget about it, as the shopkeeper deserved a donation, he said.
And then the next thing I knew, various other kids appeared and started begging for money. I decided to get out of there quickly before a larger crowd appeared. It was then clear to me that despite both being traditional Pashtun cities, Peshawar and Kandahar were very different.
I walked through the nearby bazaar until I got to Charso Square, which I’d read was a noteworthy landmark. But it too was just a crowded market, and I had to struggle through the crowds to reach the main road. Back at Martyr’s Square in the center of town, I decided to hail a taxi.
Chil Zena
Wanting a break from the bustle of central Kandahar, I flagged down a taxi to take me to Chil Zena, located about a 15-minute drive to the west of the modern city.
Though I felt certain that my taxi driver had quoted me 100 AFN, upon our arrival, he seemed adamant that we’d agreed on 200 AFN. Out of all the destinations I visited in Afghanistan, Kandahar was where I encountered the most difficulties with local drivers.
The site itself costs 100 AFN for foreigners to enter, and the guards out front will check your Kandahar permit before letting you in.
Chil Zena is situated in a natural outcrop, and it’s associated with two major historical monarchs who lived over 1500 years apart: Ashoka the Great and Babur.
The name translates to ‘Forty Steps,’ and the staircase was supposedly carved out by Babur upon his conquest of the area. The inscriptions at the top, meanwhile, detail his numerous conquests, and were likely commissioned by his son, Hamayun.
Babur (1483-1530), a direct descendant of Timur, was born in Andijan, Uzbekistan. But he lost much of his territory in Central Asia to rival khans before eventually making Kabul his new capital.
From there, he managed to definitively capture Kandahar in 1522. And then from 1525, he launched raids into north India, defeating the Sultanate of Delhi and making Agra the capital of his new empire.
The outcrop provides sweeping views of suburban Kandahar. But in Babur’s time, this would’ve been near the center, as Chil Zena was created just north of the citadel of Old Kandahar.
Old Kandahar was largely destroyed, however, in 1738 by Nadir Shah Afshar of Persia, and little trace of it remains.
As mentioned, this site is also associated with another mighty historical monarch: Ashoka the Great of the Indian Maurya Empire.
Born in the 3rd century BC, Ashoka was the grandson of the founder of the Maurya Empire, Chandragupta. Though the empire was already massive at the time of his ascension, Ashoka expanded it even further.
And the presence of the ‘Kandahar Bilingual Rock Inscription,’ created in 258 BC, reveals that he made it here.
Fascinatingly, it’s actually among the oldest of Ashoka’s many rock edicts discovered throughout Asia. And it was written in both Greek and Aramaic, the official language of the Achaemenid Persian Empire (c. 550–330 BC).
In it, Ashoka proclaims his faith in the Buddhist dharma and the prohibition of killing innocent beings within his realm.
Unfortunately, I was unable to locate the inscription, which is said to be carved somewhere at the eastern base of the large outcrop. I’m not sure if it’s even visible from the portion that’s currently accessible to visitors.
Alexandria Arachosia
Roughly 2.6 km south of Chil Zena is an archaeological site that goes even deeper back in time. I hailed a tuk tuk there, while it otherwise would’ve been a 20-30 minute walk. Not knowing how much time I’d need, I told the driver not to wait for me.
Back during the Persian Achaemenid Empire, what’s now Kandahar was once part of the satrapy (province) of Arachosia. And even prior to that, this general area has been inhabited since at least 1000 BC.
But it was likely the Achaemenids who first established a proper city here. And this citadel in the middle of a quiet Kandahar suburb likely dates back to that era.
Unfortunately, very little from that time period has survived in the historical record. So recorded history in Kandahar essentially begins with the arrival of Alexander the Great.
Alexander arrived around 330 BC and re-founded a permanent settlement here, which he called Alexandria Arachosia (one of many ‘Alexandrias’ throughout his vast empire). Today, locals call it Zorr Shaar.
Notably, the name Kandahar may have evolved over time from Alexander’s Persian and Pashto name, Iskandar.
The structure is completely unguarded and free to enter. Approaching from the north, the entrance can be tricky to find. But walk around to the west side, and you should find a gradual ascending trail.
Information on the citadel is rather scarce. But that somehow makes it all the more intriguing, considering how it was established by one of world history’s greatest figures.
And as mentioned, ‘Old Kandahar,’ which possibly encompassed this structure, was largely destroyed by the Iranian Afsharids, but Alexandria Arachosia has somehow survived.
Alexandria Arachosia was barely even mentioned by Alexander’s chroniclers, and the city was outright ignored by many of his ancient biographers.
But considering how Alexander created one of the largest empires in world history, it’s only natural that lots of details would get overlooked.
Walking around the top, I observed foundations from what seemed to be multiple eras of history. But with no on-site signage, I largely had to use my imagination. Presumably, some of the upper layers date to more recent Islamic empires.
The citadel was excavated in the 1970s by the British Society for South Asian Studies, but who knows when – or if – future excavations will take place.
A big appeal of walking around Alexandria Arachosia, of course, is the views. I explored in total silence as I observed the ruined towers, the sleepy village down below, and the rugged mountains which have come to characterize Kandahar.
Okra and Energy Drinks
Back down from the fort, I was heading on foot toward the main road, as I didn’t expect to find any drivers. Turning around, I was just about to take out my camera to photograph the fort from a distance when some young men called out to me from their small shack.
I walked over, and they had just finished cooking a local okra dish known as bamya. They insisted that I come and eat with them. They even brought me an energy drink. I’ve never been to a country in love with energy drinks as much as Afghanistan, and the drink now seems to serve as the default peace offering.
Neither of them spoke much English but we used Google Translate to communicate. After my earlier unpleasant experience at the juice stand, I felt like I could finally relax around these guys. This was real Pashtun hospitality like I’d experienced in Peshawar, I thought.
The younger one was twenty years old, and he was a proud Hafiz, or person who’s memorized the entire Quran. This seems to be considered quite an accomplishment in the Islamic world.
As we ate our bamya and other snacks, the two young men made it clear that they were big fans of the Taliban. Later on, their friend came over who spoke a bit of English. And it turned out that his older brother is a current Taliban member. And he eventually showed up and joined us as well.
The ‘Talib’, as they’re called locally, was probably in his mid to late twenties. He was a quiet and polite guy, but he didn’t seem particularly interested in me. Instead, the three younger ones did most of the communicating.
One of them kept showing me pro-Taliban TikTok memes on his phone – a niche I never thought would’ve existed.
They also kept bringing up religion, and things got awkward rather quickly. Growing up in this environment, religion seemed to be all they really knew or cared about.
On the one hand, they appeared genuinely passionate about sharing it with me. But with the topic coming up again and again over the course of a couple of hours, I started to feel like it was probably best to return to my hotel.
In this part of the world – whether Afghanistan or the former Soviet stans further north – excusing yourself from these situations can be a challenge. While locals can be very generous with their food and drinks, they often seem to expect unlimited amounts of your time in return.
‘Just stay for a while,’ they insisted. ‘I appreciate everything, but I really need to get something done back at my hotel,’ I replied.
‘No need to go to your hotel, you can just stay here for the night,’ they said. ‘Well, it’s against the rules for foreigners to stay with locals in Afghanistan,’ I explained (this is indeed true).
‘No need to worry about the rules, we’ll just have my Taliban brother tell his superior,’ the little brother said. ‘Thanks, but I really do need to go,’ I insisted.
We parted with a hug, and one of the brothers drove me back to the main road on his motorbike and he even helped me flag down a taxi.
Over the next couple of months, we’d occasionally send texts back and forth via WhatsApp. Sometimes they’d send me pictures of flowers with random greetings. Other times it was Taliban memes.
And then, bizarrely, one of them tried to catfish me with pictures of an AI-generated model. ‘I know her number, do you want me to tell you?’ he asked. I eventually had to block him.
A Surprise Hotel Visit
After an exhausting and eventful day, I thought I could finally relax for the evening. But I was wrong. I was in the middle of a phone call at around 9:30 at night when I heard a knock at my door.
I ignored it at first. It’s not uncommon for staff or delivery drivers to get the room number wrong, and I hadn’t ordered anything. But the knocking persisted.
Finally, I had to pause my call and answer the door. And there on the other side, together with a hotel staff member, were five or six members of the Taliban. Most of them were dressed in black, wearing masks and carrying rifles, except for the older one in the middle, who was wearing traditional robes. He was clearly the leader.
Not quite sure what to say or do, the leader had a big smile on my face, seemingly to put me at ease. And the hotel staff member who spoke a bit of English seemed to imply that it was a routine check. While I did receive surprise visitors at my hotel in Ghazni, it was just two men, and they’d been unarmed.
One of the guards even entered my room and proceeded to snoop around. He even began to look through my suitcase!
Though I hadn’t been asked for them, I proceeded to hand my passport and local permit to the leader. At first he didn’t seem interested in them, but eventually he did have a look. There seems to be no coordination between the Ministry of Information & Culture and whatever unit these guys belonged to.
The hotel staff member translated one of his questions to me: ‘Are you a YouTuber?’ he asked. ‘No,’ I replied, which is more or less true.
Eventually, after about 2-3 minutes, which felt like ten, they just left and said everything was alright. The leader gave me another big smile and a thumbs up before they all walked away.
Needless to say, I was a bit shaken by the experience. And to this day, I still have no clue what it was about. With certain exceptions, such as in front of military compounds or other sensitive locations, filming and photography are allowed in Afghanistan.
So why was I asked about being a YouTuber? Was the leader just making random small talk? Or, with only a small handful or foreigners present in Kandahar at any given time, perhaps I was mistaken for another Westerner who’d been filming in a sensitive spot? I also don’t think it was related to my earlier afternoon encounter.
Later on, further north in Central Asia, I met an Afghan-born ethnic Tajik who had another take. I told him the story and he seemed certain that the Taliban were actually hoping I was a YouTuber so that I could make positive content for them promoting the country. I kind of doubt that, but who really knows.
The Mausoleum of Mirwais Hotak
My second day in Kandahar happened to coincide with the first day of Eid al-Adha. And it was also a Friday. While I’d wanted to visit Kandahar’s Red Mosque just to see it from the outside, I hit a dead end in the form of a concrete security wall.
And so I decided to head over to the Mausoleum of Mirwais Hotak, further past Chil Zena along the Kandahar-Helmand Highway.
Though few drivers were out on the streets, I found one waiting outside of a restaurant, and the owner helped translate. They refused to go lower than 500 AFN. But having made the journey, I feel 3-400 AFN would’ve been adequate.
Mirwais Hotak (1673-1715) was a chieftain of the Ghilji tribe of Pashtuns. He’s regarded as an Afghan national hero and an icon of the Pashtun people.
He overthrew the Safavid Persian governor in 1709, establishing the Hotak dynasty which would rule ‘Greater Kandahar’ and parts of Iran before it dissolved in 1738.
Surprisingly, the Safavid governor was actually the Georgian King of Kartli, George XI. Following a failed revolt in Georgia, he once again became a vassal of the Safavids and was eventually appointed viceroy of Kandahar province.
George treated the locals terribly and destroyed numerous religious monuments. At one point, King George even had Mirwais Hotak arrested and sent to Isfahan. But Hotak was later released by the Persian Shah.
Back in Kandahar, he later personally invited George XI to a banquet, only to assassinate him. Hotak then declared Kandahar and its surroundings an independent kingdom.
What ensued next was a war between Hotak and the Safavids, with Hotak repelling wave after wave of Persian troops.
Chronologically, these events took place several decades before the formation of the Durrani Empire discussed above.
Generally speaking, foreigners aren’t supposed to enter Islamic monuments in Afghanistan. But there weren’t any guards at this mausoleum, and I couldn’t resist taking a look inside. Ultimately, nobody said anything, nor seemed to care.
The mausoleum’s interior was beautiful, though much of it appears to have been recently refurbished. Based on what I’ve read, the inside of the Mausoleum of Ahmad Shah Durrani likely appears similar.
The Shrine of Baba Wali
The Shrine of Baba Wali is located about a 20-minute drive north of central Kandahar. I haggled with a local taxi driver down to 500 AFN roundtrip, though a local bystander told me it was a high price. The driver would even request extra from me upon our return to the city, though I refused.
Arriving at the shrine, I needed to show my permits to the local guards. And for whatever reason – perhaps due to the holiday – they had made multiple phone calls before allowing me inside.
As you can probably tell, the Shrine of Baba Wali is quite a hassle to get to compared with other locations in this Kandahar guide. But what is it and why is it significant?
Baba Wali was a Sufi saint born in Kandahar in 1476 at the time of the Timurid Empire. Though born here, he later moved to Hasan Abdal in Pakistan’s Punjab region.
Interestingly, Hasan Abdal is located quite close to the ruins of Taxila and just 40 km northwest of Islamabad – a city which did not yet exist then.
It was there that Baba Wali encountered Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism, which still wasn’t quite an organized religion.
Baba Wali was a strict adherent of Islam, and he was upset by Guru Nanak’s performance of Hindu-inspired kirtans, or devotional songs.
According to Sikh legend, the only natural spring in the area was situated on Baba Wali’s land, and he blocked the water from reaching the town.
And when people protested, he argued that if Guru Nanak was so special, he could provide water for them.
Guru Nanak then picked up a small stone and water began trickling out from the spot under it. Baba Wali’s spring, meanwhile, started to dry up.
Upset, Baba Wali then hurled a large rock from atop his hill toward Guru Nanak, but the guru simply raised his hand to stop the rolling boulder in its tracks.
Clearly, Baba Wali appears to be the villain in this popular Sikh story. But from the local perspective, Baba Wali was a revered figure who imparted divine wisdom and knowledge amongst his community. He was even said to have been able to communicate with birds!
The shrine complex is quite elaborate, featuring multiple structures spread across a large hill. If anything, the place is worth coming to for the views, though it was unfortunately rather hazy at the time of my visit.
A shrine was first established here in the 17th century, but many of the current structures were commissioned more recently by Gul Agha Sherzai, Kandahar governor during the early 1990s and again in the early 2000s.
Sherzai was also regarded as a local warlord who had to flee upon the Taliban’s first rise to power.
He then worked with American special forces to take Kandahar in 2001, and Abdul Raziq Achakzai, who we discussed above, worked under him. Interestingly, however, Sherzai has apparently pledged allegiance to the Taliban since their return to power in 2021.
Many of the structures have seen better days and are sitting here in a state of decay. While the Taliban are currently managing the Shrine of Baba Wali, according to their strict interpretation of Islam, making pilgrimages to the shrines of Sufi saints is ‘un-Islamic.’
As such, we probably shouldn’t expect major renovations here any time soon.
Waiting For The Bus
Leaving Kandahar, my plan was to take a VIP Bus in the morning bound for Herat. Multiple people in town told me that buses would be departing almost hourly from 8:00. And that even though it was Eid Al-Adha, they should be running normally.
So I woke up extra early and hopped in a shared taxi to the terminal, arriving a little after 8:00. But the place was completely dead, with only a couple of parked buses in the lot. Locating a single staff member, he told me that the only bus for the day would depart at 14:00 – about six hours later!
Unfortunately, no shared taxis seemed to be operating either. So I’d have no choice but to wait it out.
Before I could do anything, I realized that I still hadn’t paid the driver of the shared taxi from the town center. The staff member of my hotel who helped me flag the car down told me it would cost 50 AFN per person. But now the driver was requesting 300! I handed him 50 anyway, but he refused to take my money.
Eventually, the bus terminal staff member I’d just spoken with got angry with the driver. While they spoke in Pashto, I heard him mention the Taliban, and I got the impression that he was threatening to call the authorities on him. The taxi driver soon backed down, took my 50 AFN, and went away.
Not sure how I was going to pass the time, I went to a restaurant on the upper floor for breakfast. And sitting nearby me was a man with a Pakistani accent. As we ate our kebabs, he proceeded to tell me a wild story.
He told me that he was born and raised in Iran. But at some point, he was abducted and taken to Pakistan as a child. He was even given fake papers and started living with a fake family. But eventually as an adult, Pakistani authorities realized that he was actually undocumented, so he ended up getting deported.
The reason he came to Kandahar, he explained, was that he has a grandfather in town. But he was unsuccessful at getting papers in Afghanistan, so he’s essentially now roaming around as a stateless person. Sadly, he also said that when traversing between different countries, he’s been detained and beaten multiple times by authorities.
I sat there listening in astonishment, but was also rather skeptical. Surely he’s going to ask me to cover his bus fare, I was thinking. But he never asked me for anything, and I felt that only gave credence to his story. He wouldn’t even let me pay for his chai. He also mainly spoke Urdu and a little bit of Dari, but almost no Pashto. Those details also checked out with what he told me.
The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur, but I chatted on and off with some friendly – and refreshingly normal – people from Maimana who were waiting for the same bus as me.
Finally, two o’clock rolled around, and it was time to board the comfortable VIP coach. While I was certainly glad that I’d come, I was more than ready to leave Kandahar behind.
Additional Info
Most independent travelers will be coming to Kandahar from one of three places: Kabul, Ghazni, or Herat.
When coming from Kabul, the main bus terminal with buses direct to Kandahar is located to the west of the city. It’s often referred to as the Kabul Southwest Bus Terminal, but there are currently no English markers on Google Maps for it. But just ask someone at your hotel and they should be able to find a taxi driver to take you there.
From either Kabul or Herat, you can take a fancy ‘VIP Bus.’ These are simply comfortable and spacious coach buses like you’ll find elsewhere in the world.
But a unique twist in Afghanistan is that they lay down carpet in the aisles. And as you’ll quickly realize in Afghanistan, carpet anywhere means no shoes, whether it’s a home, restaurant, or bus. Conveniently, however, the staff should hand out plastic bags in which you can keep your shoes during the ride.
When coming from Ghazni, it’s easiest to just take a shared taxi. While I can’t recall the exact location where I boarded one (it was by a random gas station), it shouldn’t really matter, as according to Ghazni’s local rules, foreigners can only go sightseeing in the company of a staff member from the Ministry of Information & Culture. So he should just be able to tell you where to go, or you can ask at your hotel.
I stayed at Fazli Hotel and Guest House, conveniently located near Martyr’s Square and within minutes on foot from the local Ministry of Information & Culture Office. The coordinates are 31°36’47.7″N 65°42’01.6″E, and you can reach them via WhatsApp at +93 79 271 5077 to make a reservation in advance.
Upon arrival, I was given two options for rooms: 1200 AFN for a room with a private bathroom, and 1000 AFN for a room with a shared one.
While I initially chose the private bathroom, I soon realized that my phone barely got reception in that room, while the signal was fine in the other. Fortunately, there weren’t too many other guests during my stay, so the shared bathroom wasn’t an issue.
If you’re not on such a budget, consider the Afghan Continental Guest House which is said to cost roughly $30 UD per night. You can find the location and contact info on Google Maps.