Gilgit

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Sunday September 17th

The bus to Gilgit was at 6:30 so Jason, Samuel and I got up way too early again, had some Corn Flakes, checked-out and got in. The minibus was starting from the hotel so we got the best spots, but then again that doesn't mean much. It filled up pretty fast and soon enough we were squished, 4 per row. Samuel dropped seemingly in the middle of nowhere, I'm not too sure where exactly. He said he was gonna do some trek so he hopped off in some village.

As we neared Gilgit military presence increased. Soon enough we started seeing sandbangs and military post at every few hundreds meters. It felt like we were entering Sarajevo in the 1990s. Why all this? Well Gilgit has had some trouble recently. Why? Half the town is Shiite, the other half Sunni so of course they like to have a little bit of old fashioned throat slicing and AK47 shooting at each other. It happened fairly recently (and several time in the past) but the situation is calm right now. Gilgit is not a place Pakistan can afford to lose. It is the major town in the north and is a very important staging post into China along the KKH. The Pakistan military care very little about some remote town in the desert of Balochistan having sectarian violence, but if it happens somewhere where it might hurt the economy, you can be sure half the army will be there in no time - which is exactly what was happening. We reached Gilgit by about 11AM, and were dropped in some backyard that doubled as a minibus stop. First impression of Gilgit is that it is more conservative than the north, definately less women. It is also not a nice city. Full of detritus on the street, ramshackle buildings, dust, military and roaming dogs it is several points lower in cleanliness than chinese cities (which aren't exactly a good model either) and it doesn't have much character. It is a transport hub for the traveller and very little else.

We had decided to stay in a place called "Mountain Refuge", of course placed right next to the river as far away as it could be from the mountain and still be in Gilgit. It was a few kilometers away but we decided to walk there. We followed the LP map but at some point Jason got confused and thought the map was wrong. Being short tempered he started screaming: "Fucking Lonely Planet they can't get their fucking map right". After having a quick look I mentioned that he was looking at the wrong street. He just said "Oh" and we moved on. One shouldn't doubt the Bible.

We entered some gate that looked as if it was ready to withstand an attack by the military thinking it was our guesthouse. The place looked like a palace so we were a bit confused since it is supposed to have dorms for 50Rs (less than 1USD). An angry looking man told us that Mountain Refuge was next door and told us to go away. Ahh well. We went in the guesthouse which had an alright courtyard (but looked like a mess after what we had seen). There were several pakistani girls in their late teens walking around, some of them quite cute, it must be said. A young woman approached us (!!!) and told us the place had a tour group of students girls. I didn't have any problems with that (neither did Jason) but she told us we had to go. We cursed conservatism and left.

We went to our second choice, Madina's guesthouse which wasn't too far away. This is the big backpacker's place in Gilgit but we heard it was overpriced for what it offered. What we had heard was right, but at least they have a nice courtyard and a decent restaurant. Plus we just didn't feel like walking around more in the surprisingly hot midday sun.

After checking in we went in the street to have some food and mango juice before heading to an internet cafe which was called the "most reliable in town" by the LP. When we were in, there was no electricity but he told us "5 minutes 5 minutes, no problem". After 5 minutes electricity was indeed back and remained on for long enough for us to start loading our email (but not long enough for them to finish loading, so about 15 minutes of electricity). After another period of electricity then blackout I decided to leave. To be honest the guy who ran it was extremely friendly and refused any payment since I hadn't been able to get anything done.

After that Jason went walking around town while I decided to head back to the hostel. There I realized there was an internet cafe so I checked my emails for a few minutes before heading to the dorm for a little siesta.

I hung around the restaurant after my sleep and found some people speaking french so I joined in. There was a french guy, a quebecer called Sylvain and a french freelance journalist that has been covering Pakistan and Afghanistan for 3 years called Cillia (sp?). We had some interesting conversations about the political situation of the country, tourism (Sylvain has been travelling quite extensively) and Baltoro trek which Sylvain had just finished. The german cyclist who had climbed up to Rakaposhi Base camp with us arrived at some point. However he was so tired he fell asleep on his chair. Caroline, the french girl who went with Beat, Olivier and Pasale at Rush Phari, also appeared at some point and joined in the conversation. Word got around that there was a polo game at 4PM. So we decided to go there (except Cillia who had seen it all before (actually she has seen the afghan game where they play with a goat's head) and decided to go to bed) and I left a message to Jason to tell him to come.

We walked to the polo ground and were immediately put in the VIP section, in the shade, by policemen. We didn't know the rules when we got in but it's fairly simple. There are 6 players per team, all on a horse and with a sort of hammer. The goal is to score goals. Not rocket science. It was fairly interesting to watch the game but my only complains is that the ball is too small and the field too big so it's hard to follow the action on the far sides of the field (god, I sound like an american watching hockey). Another rule is that if a player catch the ball in his hand, he just has to cross the goal with the ball in his hand to get a point. So the only way to stop a player who catch the ball is to physically stop him. Or his horse. That's exactly what happened. A guy caught the ball but a big player from the opposite team took the head by the head and forced him to a standstill. The player with the ball tried for a good 2 minutes to get away but he didn't manage to. That was pretty exciting with the whole crowd cheering like crazy the whole time. There was an orchestra playing music every now and then, they'd go crazy every time there was a goal. The red team ended up winning 9-1 so it wasn't the most exciting game ever.

On the way back, Caroline told me that she had been in Gilgit last year during the Earthquake. Gilgit wasn't affected too badly but the roads to Islamabad, Skardu and Chitral were all destroyed for at least a week. Furthermore since the Quake happened 2 days after Ramadan started, fanatics on both sides of the religious divide decided that it was a sign from god: he wanted them to kill the heretics. So a "war" between Sunnis and Shiites started in the city. She tried, along with her friends, to escape to Chitral but for 3 days she went to the bus station only to be told to come back the next day. In the first few days there was a curfew at night but then it became a 24 hours curfew. However, shortly after the curfew was established they lifted it, thinking violence was over. Caroline took that opportunity to escape to Karimabad by bicycle but her friends decided to stay. Three to four hours after it was lifted, the authorities put the curfew back on because violence wasn't finished. The 24 hours curfew was to last for 8 days. But Caroline was gone, she managed to reach the safety of Karimabad but all roads link to the rest of the country were gone so she was stuck there. During those 8 days she called at Madina's to talk with her friend who were stuck there. Food was getting scarce so they had to pay a little Pakistani boy to run over the street to buy some food from the stores and run back to the guesthouse. Eventually violence died down, the roads were cleared and the military came in force. They took all the foreigners in a secure army convoy down to Islamabad as soon as the road opened.

I definately looked at the people around differently after hearing that story. Who was a Shiite and who was a Sunni? Was there tension in the air? These people who would walk past each other without a look might be shooting at each other tomorrow. I've never been hopelessly optimistic about Pakistan like some people (Aaron, I'm looking at you), I've always been more of a realist. I know there are some danger, but if you don't go to the wrong places (Ohh, Waziristan sounds lovely at this time of the year) and don't do the wrong things (flirt with burqua'ed women and ask around for where the booze is) you'll be alright. Caroline's story was a good reminder that however calm things can happen and however friendly people are, this is not a very stable country so in a day things can change from great to awful. Nevertheless, the dangers are low unless you walk around praising GW Bush foreign policy in while trying to sell Playboys. Common street crime (theft, pickpocket etc) is much less common than in the West.

Back at the guesthouse I had something that tasted a bit like spaghetti, talked some more with everyone and then went to sleep like a baby.

Monday September 18th

Jason and I were planning to go to the Visa office to see if it would be possible to get a visa extension or a re-entry visa (since I am panning to go to India then come back to Iran through Pakistan). We had heard it costed nothing but then some people told us canadian have to pay some fee. We walked to the Office, making photocopies of our visa/passport pages on the way. We got into the office and were told to wait along with a swiss guy reading some french book. Pakistani were going in and out the office, talking in Urdu but no one paid attention to us. Apparently someone had put the application documents in a locked drawer and they were looking for the key. After looking around for 15 minutes the man who appeared to be the boss asked us what we wanted. He proceeded to inform us that visa extension was only possible 5 days before expiry of the visa and would cost 2500Rs (50$) for canadian whereas most nationalities have it for free. I'm not too sure what we canadian have done to deserve this.

Jason was pretty pissed as he wanted to leave Gilgit that day but now it was too late to go to where he wanted now (Swat Valley) in a day. We took a Suzuki back to Madina's where the owner told him he could still go to Besham and go to Swat the next day which he decided to do. We exchanged email and arranged to meet in Peshawar in about a week. My plan was to go to Chitral (west of Gilgit) tomorrow and then head south to Peshawar.

I went to a place I had seen in the bazaar on the way to the polo game that sold some fried stuff. I had some pokharas (deepfried vegetable) and some locally made slightly orange french fries that had to be the best I've had in my life. I spent the rest of the day walking around town in the bazaar trying to find a backpack and get myself a shawar kameez. I got the backpack but no kameez as I didn't have enough time on my hand to get a tailor to make one for me.

I went back to the guesthouse and met Beat. We caught up on the last few days and our respective treks. He wanted to do the Fairy Meadow trek, which is according to several people amazin, but he needed people to share the jeep ride to the top of the trail. The problem was that it costs 1500Rs so he needs 3 other people. He ended up convincing me. Now the only problem was finding 2 other people. So we went on a hunt. We asked everyone we met if they were interested in going to Fairy Meadow. It started well. Caroline told us she wanted to go right away. We were just missing one person.

A while later Caroline told us she changed her mind because she had a fungus infection on her big toe which hurted but said she'd come if it stopped hurting.

The rest of the day was spent eating (curry/chapatis), on the internet and asking every newcomer if he wanted to go to Fairy Meadow. In the end Beat and I decided to wiat another day (I was quite happy to post-pone the 16 hours bus ride to Chitral) to try to find other people. When I headed to the dorm I met an italian girl with whom I talked for a while. She's one of those "India-lover" that has been there 15 times. She gave me a few tips on what to do and where to go.

Tuesday September 19th

Didn't do much interesting thing that day. Went on a far away but better internet cafe, ate some pokhara/french fries again for lunch (healthy!), asked everyone I met if he wanted to go to Fairy Meadow but to no avail (everyone has either been there or plan to go later), read my book in the hotel's courtyard and walked around the city. Not an unpleasant day.

At the end of the day I went to the bus stand for buses to Chitral. It took me 30 minutes to find it because the instructions the guy at the hotel gave me were pretty bad. In the end by the time I got there it was too late to get my ticket so I'd have to try my luck in the morning. When I got back at the hotel I met the chinese girls I had seen at Minapin who were also going to Chitral (and had their ticket). I chatted with them for a bit.

There was also an american man in his 50s that spoke japanese and spoke generally very loudly. He also constantly repeated himself. Everytime he'd start talking with someone (and he did talk with pretty much everyone present) he'd repeat the same thing, invariably saying: "Japanese is THE EASIEST LANGUAGE IN THE WORLD. Give me 5 minutes and a pen and I'll teach it to you." and he wouldn't stop talking. He was a story machine, putting one after the other without stopping to catch his breath out of fear that we might take the opportunity to say something. He was thinking of going to Chitral tomorrow, I hoped he'd get tired of talking after a few hours or I'd have to invest in those Homer Simpsons glasses with open eyes drawn on them.

Beat and me agreed to cancel Fairy Meadow but made plans to meet in Islamabad as he was cycling down straight south from here. We said goodbye and headed to bed.

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Photos

Truck
I hadn't taken pic of them before but they're ubiquitous in the country. So beautiful (and so goddamn polluting)

Polo
The goal of the game is to kick the ball with the sort of hammer into the goal.

Polo 2
It can get pretty violent at time, they often miss the ball and hit the horse/men with the hammer.

The orchestra
These guys would go crazy whenever there was a goal. Notice the manly mustaches