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Published: November 24th 2006
We warn you now we have loved Pakistan and that can be seen by the forthcoming verbosity!
Since you last heard from us we've covered some ground. From Osh we took the 24 hour bus journey back over the Irkestam pass to China with the same one-eyed driver who had somehow managed to get us there. This journey was uneventful except for the fact that the driver unloaded our bags at the border and left them there. This incurred a 4 hour trip and $50 taxi fare back to the border the next day to collect them.
We spent a couple more days in Kashgar trying to extract a police report out of the reluctant officers and wandering around the old town. We spent an evening with Kashgar's local drunk - former musician Mohammed. He introduced us to Uighur dancing and was great entertainment until he passed out!
From Kashgar we embarked on the Karakorum Highway. This road would take us all the way to Islamabad in Pakistan. We took a local bus to Karakul Lake and stayed overnight in a yurt with a Kyrgyz family. The night was freezing and the sky absolutely full of stars but
wrapped up in 5 duvets each we were snug as bugs. The next day we flagged down a bus and headed on along the valley to Tashkurgan. At this point we were approximately 10km from the Tajikistan border and this town is predominantly Tajik - apparently they have the most beautiful women in Central Asia - you'll have to ask Dave.
In the morning we managed to get a place on the bus to Pakistan. We climbed up and up to the Khunjerab pass at 4693m, crossing the border into the Khunjerab National park which was beautiful. We drove down the valley with cliffs towering above us. Along the way we spotted Ibex, mountain hares, and white deer, much to the excitement of us and the locals!!
Our first stop in Pakistan was Passu. This was a beautiful setting with snow-capped peaks in every direction. We lived in basic accommodation, ate wholesome Pakistani food and spent our time trekking in the surounding hills. We walked to a glacier, over 2 enormous rope bridges, to a swampy lake all the time being looked down upon by mountains of over 7000m. Passu was also where we got our first experience
of Pakistani hospitality. We began getting invitations for tea and chappatis at every turn. The population of the Hunza valley are Ishmaili muslims, who are less strict and so were not so concerned on the whole with Ramadan, thankfully, as we had arrived right in the middle of it. It also meant that the women have more freedoms and are more visible in society than in other parts of Pakistan (as we were later to find out).
From Passu we squeezed into little minvans and travelled 2 hours down the valley to a place called Karimabad. This gorgeous town is set on a hillside, amongst trees that were all turning yellow with autumn. Karimabad life was simple, many people relying on their sheep and goats for a living. Staying at the old Hunza Inn we made the most of the wonderful cooking, hot showers (the first in a long while) and the extraordinary view from our room. We visited the Baltit Fort that Prince Charles and Parkerbowels visited 4 days later (we wonder if she also got groped by the ticket seller?) We dragged ourselves away from this all too chilled out spot to head on down the road
Nanga Parbat, Pakistan
It pays to get up earlyto Gilgit the capital of the region.
Set at the confluence of the three muslim factions, this army town felt tense at times and was easily the biggest place we had visited in Pakistan. Still yearning for mountains we headed for the world's 9th largest mountain Nanga Parbat a massive massif by anyone's standards coming in at 8126m. We had ideas about climbing it, because from our sunny seat at the bottom of the glacier it looked quite easy, but later we heard that it takes between 60-90 days and is known to locals and the climbing community as Killer Mountain!!
Fairy Meadow is a beautiful spot underneath the Nanga Parbat range, where we heard there were plenty of huts to stay in. After some waiting around for transport and a hair-raising jeep ride to get us half way, we duly set off walking up the approach valley. The walk was tough with the altitude of 3000m taking it's toll. Darkness fell and we had still not reached any signs of habitation, we quickly put on more layers as the cloud free skies sent the temperature plumetting. Finally after some searching around by torchlight we found a row
Kalash Girl weaving
They start them early of tourist huts. Unfortunately they were deserted, we looked around for any other places to stay and shouted and shouted for someone but to no avail. By this time it was way below freezing and things were looking fairly dire as we had no tent and only thin sleeping bags. We ended up having to break in to one of the huts. Technically this is called breaking and entering but we felt we had no choice. Slightly jumpy we climbed into the awaiting beds and fell asleep. In the morning whilst surveying the damage we had caused (2 doors and one bolt) we were met by two hikers who pointed 100m down the track to another group of huts that apparently was still open for business. EEEKKK!!!
With our tails between our legs we went over and reported our destruction. That day we walked further up the valley for more spectacular views of the glacier and of a mountain that's killed 2 mountaineers this year alone. On return we were told the owner knew of our misdeeds and was coming up to view it himself - apparently also he wasn't a reasonable man. He arrived and the next morning
we all went to survey the scene - him with his kalashnikov slung over his shoulder - quite a man to have picked a fight with!! After some serious bartering we agreed on recompense of 1500 rupees ($25).
We headed back to Gilgit, riding on the top of the bus for the Independence day polo match. Meeting up with some old friends we all headed out to a popular restaurant on the town's main high street. While we were there catching up and eating we heard the sound of gunfire. Before we knew it all the locals were under the table, some also wielding guns. Having been told by the restaurant owner that all was fine and wondering why we were on the floor, we resumed our meal, only to find ourselves once more on the floor a few minutes later. The story goes there was a drunk man firing a gun in the air and the police moved in and shot him right outside our restaurant... A sobering moment for us, reminding us of the unsettled nature of this part of the world.
The polo match was a great event in the town. We got to sit
Polo at Chitral
Quite a violent game in the special persons enclosure and more importantly had tea and biscuits at half time (clearly a former British colony). The match itself was not of the highest standard and half the time you couldn't see what was going on. Later we saw a great match in Chitral which had end to end action and great crowd participation (especially when one of the horses collapsed..)
From Gilgit we moved on to Chitral via Mastuj over the Shandur pass - site of the world's highest polo ground. We were there to visit the Kalash valley and to visit this remote area we had to register with the local police. There are three valleys where the Kalash people live. It is thought they are descendants of Alexander the Great and his soldiers. These pagan people have distinctive dress and culture and live the same way they did several hundred years ago.
First we went to Bumboret valley where we stayed with a Kalash family. That afternoon we watched our first proper game of cricket (if proper means a pitch full of rocks). In the evening the locals held an impromptu party with much singing, dancing, drumming and Kalash red wine
- quite a treat for dry Pakistan. The Kalash know how to party, their festivals all revolve around a big knees up, they even have special buildings for dancing. Dave graced the floor with some moves but found the altitude all a bit much.
Early the next morning after walnut chappatis we set off on a 2-day trek with our guide Badin and Sophie our Belgian friend. That day we climbed vertically up for at least four hours in the blazing sun. We had lunch at the top and Badin entertained us with his flute music and we were engaged in banter by an old shepherd. From the pass we had great views into the Hindukush. That night we stayed with Mirgulyap, a local character who seemed to think we had some hearing problem. He talked continuously at us in Kalash without expecting an answer. His house was a dirty fly-ridden shepherd's shack but he made us very welcome and even got up at 2:45am to make chappatis for us.
The next day we again climbed for around 3 hours and then down into Rumbor valley. As we climbed, out of breath, Badin regaled us with stories of
the wolves and tigers that inhabitted the area and even with the story of two boys who had been killed by a hungry tiger just the year before. The walk in Rumbor was lovely, steep valley side, lovely wooden house and friendly people always with offers of tea. We stayed the night in a nice little guest house that Michael Pallin had stayed in during the making of Himalaya. Of all the minority cultures that we have seen and had the opportunity to mix with, the Kalash people appear to be one of the least affected by globalisation and the onslaught of tourism. They seem genuinely happy with their way of life and almost totally self-sufficient.
After a brief stop in Chitral, where we covered the giant mosque, and the ramshackled fort we took a painful 12 hour bus ride to Peshawar.
Peshawar is the capital of North West Frontier Province, and is a short hop from the Khyber Pass to Afghanistan. The people are predominantly Pashtun and many hale from Afghanistan having moved here as a result of the various upheavals the country has suffered. Peshawar is noisy, dirty, busy and we loved it. The thin windy
streets of the old town are beguiling, the constant flow of rickshaws keep you on your toes and the people are wild! The first thing you notice on reaching Peshawar from the north is that one half of the population has disappeared. Women are kept in the house and if they are out they are hidden under a Burka. In the whole time that I (Dave) was there I didn't speak to a single woman.
We had both by this time adopted local dress, making the most of the skilled and inexpensive Afghan tailors. During our weeklong stay in Peshawar we made two trips out of the city, the first to Darra. This town is situated in the Tribal Areas an area outside of Pakistani law, bordering Afghanistan. Darra is renowned for one thing - Guns!!! In workshops dotted all over the town, fully functioning copies of well known brands of guns are reproduced at an astonishing rate. Escorted by the police who had picked us up for being there without a permit, we were shown and encourgaed to hold Kalashnikovs, Burettas, M16 rifles, Chinese Pistols, pump action shotguns and the very cute but totally deadly Pen gun!!! This
A classic Sufi
Who knew that apricot was this years colour? was a truelly surreal and initially unnerving experience. Within minutes of our arrival, as we drank tea and agreed our bribe with the police we heard gun fire. Having flashbacks to the Gilgit restaurant we were reassured that this was perfectly normal 'Test Fire.' It takes on average 1 week to make any gun and they are sold for $100 or less. And they are sold in large quantities. We saw young boys making bullets by the sack full, and apparently everyone (obviously that just means the means the men as the women are indoors making chappatis) has a gun. Boys get their first gun when they are 13/14 years old. Having had our fill of this dangerous counterfeiting we were put back on a bus and sent back to the relative safety of Peshawar. (The Bejaur bombings were less than 100kms away from the city.)
Our second trip was out to a Refugee camp. We had made a good friend in Javed Ahmad and he agreed to take us to meet some of his family in one of the 5 refugee camps on the edge of Peshawar. The camp was actually just as you would have imagined it - it was dirty and squallid, full of children running around with seemingly little to do but very happy. There was electricity and clean running water however this had only arrived 6 years ago and most of the refugees have been there since 1982 if not before! We were very well received and welcomed in for tea and cake. The family told us stories of their lives over the past years including how so much of the NGO money had disapperared into the pockets of corrupt officals - very sad.
Through our good friends the afghan tailors we were invited to go to a wedding. Dressed up as best we could after travelling for 11 months we arrived to great reception embarassingly eclipsing the happy couple. The men and women were separated but we both had a good time. After an evening where we were the centre of attention for the whole wedding and the surrounding area, we were eventually asked to leave as we were a security concern!!! The wedding was lovely and we were very well looked after, eating first, receiving gifts and welcomed by everybody (literally).
We took an overnight train to Lahore with the last two tickets on the train meaning we had to sit up all night with our bags. Checking into our hostal we dropped our bags and headed out to the Cricket. Cricket is a massive sport in Pakistan and taken very seriously. We spent the day in the Imran Khan stand watching the West Indies playing Pakistan. Brian Lara made a century, the crowd cheered, sang, danced and pestered us with questions - great day!!
Lahore has lots to see, and we did our best to battle traffic and visit one of the largest mosques in the world, the old city, a huge shrine hosting visiting Qawwali music groups and the fort. However, we also spent a lot of time sitting in the famous Lahore Ice-cream shops mmmm.
The night before we left we were invited to experience a Sufi night. Sufis are one of the smaller branches of muslims. Their main interests appear to be music, dancing and marijuana, all three made for quite an evenings entertainment. The main act, two brothers (one deaf, both over 7 foot tall) drummed solidly for around 3 hours while sufi folowers danced the special sufi dance of 'Spinning.' The spinning is just that - spinning around and around non stop for hours!!
We left Pakistan via the border town of Wagah stopping to watch the much hyped Closing of the border ceremony. This bizarre event which is essentially just a fomality has been turned into a nationalistic crowd pleaser with India and Pakistan trying to outdo each other for pomp and ceremony!! We were slightly overwhelmed on the Indian side as we felt a much stronger bond with Pakistan.
Pakistan is a beautiful country, it's people are the friendliest we have ever met, the food is great, the culture is strong and varied, the history is interesting although not always positive. We stay up to the limit of our visa, but would have stayed longer. It seems to us a shame that all many people know about Pakistan is the one-sided views of the western media. The first question we were asked by many locals was " Do you think we are all terrorists?" The whole time we were there we never encountered any animosity and were always greeted with smiles.
We are now in India and having fun but we will save that for the next and probably the last blog!!
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