Is-scam-abad calling........

OK, hands up all those who thought we were joking about coming to Is-scam-abad?

Well, we're here and have survived our first day although if we have to cross too many more roads, our chances of a long life are looking pretty slim.

However, before we give you the sordid details about our journey to, and arrival in, Pakistan, we are going to recap the last couple of weeks before we left the U.K.

Apart from our film clubs annual ramble which we very much enjoyed (especially the pub lunch bit), much of the time was spent shopping for last minute essentials such as lavatory paper, toilet tissue and bog roll.

We also had all of the family round at various times to look at the new flat. We finally completed on the sale two days before we left; just enough time to meet the neighbours and join the other inmates, sorry residents, for their coffee half hour which they hold every morning at 10am. They seem a very friendly bunch and although we won't be seeing them again for quite some time, they all wished us luck and some of them related their own travel experiences in Asia.

The day before we left was spent getting more supplies from the doctor and in the evening we went to the film club to be entertained with some excellent films and to say goodbye to our fellow club members.

Linda and Andy (Mike's sister and partner) kindly dropped us off at Heathrow. Jo was pulled up not once but twice to be searched even though I had all of the metal items we were smuggling through on me. Must be her suspicious face. Our flight left on time and it was somewhat different to our last plane journey which was with Aer Fungus to Dublin. That time, we had coffee flavoured water and a dog biscuit which they laughingly referred to as breakfast and a two month old travel magazine to read. This time we had the choice of 4 starters, mains and desserts from an 'a-la-carte' menu and the choice of 21 video channels to watch. We also got free flight socks, pillow and headphones. Things have changed in the past couple of years.

As we were taxi-ing down the runway, we saw a jumbo jet over to the side with flames leaping 40 feet into the air and around 6 fire engines dowsing it with water. The captain explained it was probably an exercise but my thoughts were with the nervous fliers who could hardly have been calmed down by such a sight.

We were flying with Gulf Air although a more appropriate name might be Gulp Air. The captain informed us that we would be flying at a high altitude which I thought was just as well as we were going over the alps however a short time after take off I noticed that we were so high above the clouds I expected to be docking with the MIR Space Station.

The rest of the flight was uneventful and 7 hours later we were sitting in the transfer lounge at Muscat Airport in Oman. We had a 7 hour wait there. Having visited the Duty Free shop for the third time and being directed twice to an Internet Cafe which didn't exist we decided to amuse ourselves by watching the many Indians as they were passing through the lounge. The idea was to spot one without a moustache. It took almost half an hour but we did finally see one although to be fair, she was slightly on the young side to have grown one anyway.

Our flight to Is-scam-abad was finally called and 2-1/2 hours later we landed in a temperature of 98 degrees. We didn't fail to notice that we were the only Westerners on the flight and in the time we have been here, have only spotted two others. We headed for one of the ATM machines in the terminal surrounded by tout taxi drivers and, having thought about it for 5 minutes the machine spat out Jo's card in disgust with no explanation. We tried the only other two in the terminal (all 3 were different banks) and the second rejected her card again whilst the third wouldn't even accept it into the slot. What to do now? We spotted a foreign exchange terminal which we headed for closely followed by the entire taxi work-force of Is-scam-abad whose eyes were well and truly lighting up by this time. Nevertheless, although they wouldn't hand out any money against the card, they would change some of the US Dollars we had on us and surprisingly to us, we got a very decent rate and were charged no commission.

We picked out one taxi driver who led us through the throng and followed him to what can only be described as a complete rust bucket on wheels. There were no mirrors, the doors didn't close properly, the exhaust pipe was hanging off and he had to hot-wire the cables to start it. Looking in vain for the meter, we asked how much it would cost to our hotel and knew(thanks to the Lonely Planet Guide Book) that it should be around 150 PKR (Pakistani Rupees) about GBP 1.20. Well it came as no surprise whatsoever to be asked for 500 PKR. He started laughing at my suggestion of PKR 200 and not a Paisa more until I started taking the rucksack back out of the taxi and we finally agreed on PKR 300.

We jumped in and he immediately did a U-turn into oncoming traffic and after 3 near-fatal crashes within the first mile, we hit the local M25 and we waited for him to open up the throttle which he did all the way to 20 mph. Our hotel is 18 miles from the airport in the centre of Is-scam-abad and although it was dark by now (6.30pm), there were thousands of people on the streets walking, bathing, praying, eating and defacating, mostly defacating.

All the way along he kept telling us that the hotel we booked was 'very bad' and kept saying a word which sounded like another hotel name and which we assumed he wanted to take us to so he could get some commission. After insisting about a thousand times that he took us to the one we booked he signalled to a motorbike rider to stop and both he and the taxi pulled over. He then proceeded to have a ten minute conversation in Urdu and finally Barry Sheen said that our hotel was 'very bad' 'much money'. It was only then that we realised that the word the taxi driver was repeating meant 'expensive' and he was trying to save us from spending what he considered to be a fortune.

Once all was clear and he realised we had already booked a room, he took us straight there with no further problems. The hotel had already given us a 30% discount when we booked the week before but they must have forgotten the figure they quoted as they gave us a new price GBP 7.00 cheaper still. A definite result.

After a wash and brush up we decided it was time to eat and hit the streets in search of a restaurant. As it happens, we are staying in a very commercial district and there are no end of places to eat. Our hotel receptionist had said that they all stay open till around 2.00am and he wasn't joking. Having had our meal we decided to use the Internet for a while but our own hotel's computers were far too slow. We found a more up-market place around the corner (albeit with more up-market prices) but at least we didn't hang around five minutes waiting for a page to load. Having spent about an hour writing the first part of this novel, we walked back to the hotel at around 1.30am and everywhere was buzzing. Is-scam-abad is definitely our sort of town. Not only do they not close till 2.00am, they are open again for brekkie at 5.00am.

Having laid in till 10.00am we, of course, missed breakfast and left the hotel at around 11.00am to see Is-scam-abad for the first time in daylight. Our initial impressions? Well, it's just like Hastings really except there are more Pakistanis in Hastings and the mosques are larger.

Immediately on leaving the hotel, we attracted attention. Nothing unfriendly, just simple curiosity. It was obvious that Westerners are not a common sight in Pakistan. We headed for an area called 'Super-Market' which was in the middle of a wood and barely had a corner shop. Lonely Planet guide said this was the place to pick up our bus to Rawalpindi or as we global travellers like to refer to it, Pindi. For those of you who are geographically challenged, Pindi and Is-scam-abad are twin cities about 15 miles apart. In a few years time, it will all be one huge city. However, there is a big difference between the two places. Is-scam-abad has all the banks, embassies and office blocks whilst Pindi is much older and frenetic. Both though are extremely shabby and there is a very third world feel about them.

Incidentally, the journey took over an hour and cost us 20p each. Take note, Ken Livingstone.
There were however 25 people in the bus which only had seating for 10. Just as well Jo is so skinny. Someone on the bus asked if we were Japanese (Where did that come from?) and we were also asked by someone else if we were journalists.

Begging is a big problem here, though. Jo and I spent nearly an hour outside Pindi bus station and we only made 80 rupees between us. We decided to have some lunch and headed for a place that advertised 'Pakistani food a speciality'. Huh? Anyway, we settled on chicken tikka, a huge plate of chicken fried rice, a salad, nan bread, 4 soft drinks and a litre bottle of water all for the princely sum of GBP 2.50.

We then strolled around town with all eyes focussed on us and ran into three bus conductors who wanted their photo taken. They were all called Mustafa and we reckon their surnames must have been shave, haircut and wash.

A bit further along the road several kids were hanging outside a bus window and also wanted their picture taken. We gladly obliged and then made the mistake of asking which bus went to Jinnah Market, another area of Pindi we wanted to visit. Well, foreigners wanting directions seemed to stir everyone into action and soon we had a large crowd around us pointing in all different directions. Finally, one chap told us to follow him and after half a mile walk he told us to get into the back of an open-backed vehicle which he promptly followed us into. Ten minutes later we were joined by another half dozen locals and we set off. Fares were collected and when we asked how much, we were told 'our guide' had paid. Hmmmm, guide eh? What guide would that be then?

We decided the best ploy to get rid of this fellow was to show him the address of an Internet cafe we had to hand and tell him we intended to spend the rest of the day and at least half the night in there. Well, on arrival at Jinnah Market, he showed this address to at least half a dozen different shop-keepers, none of whom had a clue where this place was. We were eventually led to another area where buses congregated and 'our guide' asked a policeman at one of the control posts. He gave him directions and in no time at all we were back on another bus for a 20 minute ride to what seemed like another country, let alone another part of town. We thought Pindi was a slum but this place, where-ever it was, gave a new meaning to the word. Anyway, having got off the bus he showed the address to a taxi-driver who promptly beckoned us to jump in his cab. 'Our guide' of course followed us in. After another hair-raising journey, this time through Pakistani army bases we eventually got to this Internet Cafe which, on the web, had been described as a 5 star palace that stays open 24 hours a day for 20 rupees an hour. Heaven, or so we thought! Well, if the last place was a slum (and we know our slums having visited Glasgow), there can be no words to describe the street we found ourselves in. We had to cross an open sewer on two planks of wood to enter into one of the darkest passage-ways we have ever seen. We soon discovered this passage-way was a haven of light compared to the cafe itself. I now know what it's like to be Stevie Wonder.

We were shown to a booth just slightly wider than the computer itself and had the door closed firmly behind us. We told 'our guide' again that we would be there for some time but he just sat down and gave a 'no problem' gesture. After checking our e-mails etc and looking at other peoples travel blogs we went to pay our fee. It cost 140 rupees and I handed the guy a 100 rupee note and a 50 rupee note expecting 10 rupees change. He handed me back the 100 rupee note and then gave me another 360 rupees. I was somewhat confused until I realised he thought the 50 rupee note was one for 500. It turned out the cafe paid us for using their computers. We decided to tell our shadow that we were going back to our hotel. You think we would have learnt our lesson by now and tried to make a quick escape. No chance and surprise, surprise as we walked out the cafe, a car rolled up to meet us. Our shadow once again followed us in and an hour and a half later, we were back at base camp. We explained to 'Jafar', which we only then discovered was his name, that we were tired and going to get some shut-eye. He seemed quite happy with this explanation and in broken Urdu and English we managed to ascertain that he was making himself available the next day should we want to be shown around. We told him we were likely to be leaving town and offered him some money for all the fares he had paid on our behalf and for his 'guiding' services. He refused point blank to accept it, shook our hands and bid us a nice stay in Is-scam-abad.

We have to say that everyone we have had to deal with has been overly helpful especially in shops, where the minute we walk in, are given instant service to the detriment of all the locals still waiting to be served. The only time anyone has tried to scam us was the taxi driver from the airport and, as we all know, London is one of the worst cities in the world for overcharging foreigners just arriving.

Tonight, we have just been for a feast of a Chinese meal which cost the same as a starter and drink would in the U.K and that was for the two of us.

Well, that is the end of our first 24 hours in Is-scam-abad. Wonder what tomorrow will bring? Keep that computer plugged in, logged on and you can be one of the very first to know of our next exciting adventure.

Love to all
Mike and Jo
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