Bureacracy, assnumbing transport and diarhea: Do not read unless you want to feel better about your life

Asia » Pakistan » Islamabad
October 1st 2006

Published: October 15th 2006

I'll go really fast on this episode of my trip as I prefer not to think about it.

Wednesday September 27th

I was going to Islamabad this day to get my Indian visa application going. I said goodbye to everyone at the guesthouse and took the bus to the bus station. There I had to ask around for the minivan, then wait for an hour for enough passengers to pile up. We hit a massive protest in some town on the way which made us lose a lot of time. Even then, the driver was trying to escape it by going on the sidewalk and honking at the walkers. The police told him to go back, but he tried a second time and we got through, after only an hour of waiting.

Then at one toll station, some policemen asked us over and for some unknown reason the driver almost had a fight with them. I think the policemen was asking for a bribe and then my driver got really pissed off and started shouting angrily at the police. Other police pilled up but a man behind me calmed them down. Within a few minutes we were on our way but not before the police took the key of our driver to show their authority. Maybe policemen are just nice to westerners, Pakistan is pretty high up on corruption according to the UN but i never felt it as a traveller. Indeed, the most helpful people are the policemen.

We arrived in Islamabad at 11:30, which I knew would make it very short to make it at the embassy but I was still full of hope. I took a cab to the youth hostel then a minibus to the embassy area after I had checked in. It turns out there's a shuttle system in the embassy where you have to check in all lugage and get in the shuttle. This means more loss of time so by the time I got to the India embassy it was too late, they told me to come back the next day.

The good thing about going to the embassy is that I noticed the shuttle service had a canteen thing open even during ramadan. Needless to say I went there to eat/drink. I spent the rest of the day not doing much. I went around to a few markets, looked into some bookshops and bookfairs. I walked a great deal that day as Islamabad is vast. There's like a market then 1-2 kilometers of nothing, then another market. The city feel totally fake, out of place but hey, at least it's greaner than your average subontinent city.

There was no one in the youth hostel, except for a japanese guy who had been travelling for 5 years in 130 different countries. He was friendly but very sick with diarhea so he wasn't very talkative. Some pakistani man also came to talk to me in my room when I was alone. I think he was just very lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Friendly bloke but very religious conversation. He thought christians still fasted before Easter. That's so like early 20th century.

Thursday September 28th

I went to the embassy in the morning and after an hour and a half of waiting I got my application through for an indian visa. I seriously hate those bureaucrats and always feel aggressive/pissed off close to them. In the middle of the waiting line I realized something: I had forgotten my shoes in Peshawar. Normally I wouldn't care much about those shoes as they're very old but my orthotics are in them and without those I can't walk for very long time without backpain. That meant I had to go to Peshawar

I was seriously pissed off about this but I had no choice. I took a taxi to the bus station and the driver tried to rip me off. First time in Pakistan. We had agreed on a price but I had no change so I gave him a big bill and he tried to short change me, not by much (10Rs) but it's the principle that pisses me off. I told him to give it back but he tried to argue with me. I didn't even bother to argue. I pointed to him to a police nearby, told him I was gonna get him and started walking toward it. The missing 10Rs magically appeared, along with an apology. So not ALL Pakistani are honest, just the overwhelming majority.

I got on a bus, answered the obligatory questions from my neighbours (where you from? Married? job? etc etc), waited 3 hours, got off, took the bus to the hostel and picked my shoes, that were thankfully still there. Sylvain and Cillia were surprised to see me so I told them my story. Apparently Sylvain had an even more intereting story. While walking close to the US consulate in Peshawar he was arrested by the US secret police and taken inside. Apparently he looked "suspicious" (he is dressed like an afghan) and had taken photo of the building (they looked and saw that it wasn't true, but they didn't want to lose face). They pictured him at 4 different angles, put him on the US consulate black list and told him if he'd try walking around the consulate he'd get arrested for good. So if you want to live dangerously go walk around the US consulate dressed like an afghan.

I had some food and drink at the hostel then went back to the bus station because I wanted to be back to Islamabad not too late. Unfortunately fate was against me as it took 2 hours for a freaking minibus to leave. It was slow, especially since we stopped for prayer for a long time so we reached Islamabad by 8:30. The ride was though on the butt as I couldn't move since my 3 seat partners were huge. It was interesting to be in a transport at the fast-breaking time. Everyone gave me fruits, dates and water which was nice.

A nice local called Nazar Afridi (from the Afridi tribe in the Tribal Area) helped me out to figure out which minibus was going to Aabpara market and took it with me. He was nice but I was on my guard because he was like "ok lets take the minibus". Then after 30 seconds of waiting he was like "ok I'll call a taxi, I'll call my friend" which made me suspicious that he was trying to get me in his friend's taxi and then rob me or something. After that, he was quite insistent about me sharing a meal at his place. I don't know why but I didn't quite trust this guy. He was a bit sleazy and I had no intention of ending up as a unwilling porn actor in a underground pakistani xxx production. I'm sure he was a nice guy but I didn't want to risk it. It's the only time I ever felt like that in Pakistan and prefered to follow my instinct. Anyway I was very tired and just wanted to sleep, which is what I did.

Friday September 29th

Today I was sick. Not feeling well at all and a major diarhea. I didn't leave the hostel execpt to get water and check my emails (I looked around for the internet cafe with the toilet!). Thankfully I had stuff to read. It sucks to be sick alone.

Saturday September 30th

I was feeling better today. Still not perfectly solid but not too bad. I went to an internet cafe and got an email from Beat who's in the city. I immediately went to see him at the Tourist Campsite, a place where all overlander stop to camp. We talked about the last week or so of travel, catching up on what happened. We had different plans for the day so we decided to go eat dinner together.

In the campsite I noticed Marco was there, the guy who gave me the Iran LP. He was supposed to be in Ladakh by now but had some engine problems on his motorcycle which he was repearing.

I went to some market that day, and bought a book about Middle East history by Bernard Lewis. The man who was running the shop looked at the book carefully, then looked at me, looked at the book again and said, in his Borat-like voice: "This is a Jew". Uh uh. maybe, I don't care I replied. He didn't like my answer. I guess he would've liked me to burn the book in front of him or something. He said he was a jew again and I told him he could be a zoroastrians I wouldn't care, he writes good history. He didn't like my answer but was too polite to insist. He made me so angry.

I had a walk around town but I was feeling weak so I spent most of the afternoon sleeping. I went to eat dinner with Beat. We went to a local restaurant and had haleem (a kind of dall (mashed lentils)), vegetables, yogurt and chapatis which was delicious. We joined 2 men who invited us at their table. They were businessman and one of them wanted us to call him tomorrow to work in his company. "My friend, this is my gift to you. You can travel and pay for your trip at the same time. You call me. This is my gift for you". They were friendly but after 4 times, "This is my gift for you" got a bit annoying. They left earlier than us, probably heartbroken when we told them we wouldn't be able to work for him. Unlike most pakistani, he didn't try to pay our bill (they'll usually offer, out of politeness, but will yield after you insist 2-3 times that you'll pay) so maybe he was angry at us. Nevertheless, Beat and I had some fun imitating his voice and say "This is my gift for you, m friends!".

The meal was delicious but I was thirsty and I figured I could drink the water they offered. That was a mistake, but I wasn't to realize that until the next day. After the meal, we wandered around the bazaar and went to an internet cafe before saying goodbye. We were planning to meet in 2 days in Lahore as he was starting to cycle tomorrow whereas I was planning to go to Taxila before leaving.

Sunday October 1st

I was supposed to go to Taxila, the ruin of an ancient graeco-buddhist civilization today, but something I had yesterday killed me. I think it's the local water but I can't be sure. Anyway my day can be summed up in a 2 words: 25 times. That's the number of time I went to the toilet. Personal record. I decided that I'd go to Lahore the next day, so at least I could be sick with fellow travellers around me.