Lahore
This was an eye opener for me; my first internal flight in any country. I had thought that once I checked my bag in that it would be whisked away by the baggage fairy to magically appear at our destination. Not so. Walking from the terminal to the aircraft it was found gathered with 100 of its closest travelling buddies, working on its suntan on the tarmac. You had to walk over to the collection and identify your bag before handing it to the baggage handler who would then load it on the aircraft. The flight was short so there wasn’t a full service but we did get offered some tap water and a boiled sweet. Yummy. No need for lunch then, I’m full.
Checking in to the hotel you are saluted and greeted by guy donned in a military uniform. That’s one off the checklist. Be saluted…check.
A Bridge Not Too Far Away
After the day checking out the markets and generally meandering around the city it was back to the hotel to see how Mr Military was doing in the heat. He seemed to be fine and saluted Glenbama and myself with gusto.
The shanty town under the bridge by day.
Shortly after dusk we ventured out to see the night life. Under a full moon we found ourselves about to walk over a bridge that spanned a railway line. We’d walked over it during the day and I thought it would be good to check out the road that appeared to run underneath it. What we found was a shanty town of sorts. Small wooden platforms on stilts were the main quarters where they could sleep and have some shelter. These areas weren’t always big enough for the family so there were quasi tents as well in which people would sleep and cook. The raised platforms would not have looked out of place in the tropics.
You could see people sleeping or lazing about. No electricity and no running water but there was a sense of community. It was surprisingly quiet for being underneath a bridge, except of course when the trains passed.
As we continued underneath the bridge following the train line, the shanty structures gave way to some rudimentary housing. It was eerily quiet yet not scary. That said the adrenalin got going when rounding one corner we came face to face with a tied up bull tied up. Weaving and winding our way along tiny dirt pathways we eventually found ourselves at a large fenced enclosure. The training grounds immediately beyond the fence were in stark contrast to the village we had passed through. The buildings were more modern and the training area was grassed. We had stumbled upon the police headquarters.
The Morning After
As I said, we didn’t have an itinerary, so the next day I suggested we should go back to the bridge town and check it out in daylight. Maybe I wanted to see if the bull would scare us again.
Walking past the bridge people, their stare spoke volumes. It was readily apparent our detour is not on the tourist trail. They weren’t gawking at our poor dress sense, but appeared to be bemused or astonished we would dare to set foot there. Entering the village proper was a different story. No sooner had we spotted the bull, much easier to do in daylight let me tell you, we were greeted by heaps of running kids. With beaming smiles they greeted us warmly. All their noise brought the adults out and before you could say “you haven’t seen a bull around here…have you?” we were surrounded.
Like Royalty
In Pakistan, as we found out, most people know three languages, Urdu, English and their local dialect. Luckily for us we had one of the three. Now the centre of attention we began waving and saying ‘hi’ to all and sundry.
Great 80’s look gone bad. Mind you, the old man looks worse!
Soon after our arrival a man with a beard that put Glenbama’s to shame, both in lack of grey hair and bushiness, came up to the gathered group admiring our good looks. He was for all intents and purposes, the village head. He invited us back to his house (which had a dirt floor) as were apparently another ten or so men. ‘You were here last night’: a statement not a question. I guess we will never be ninjas….my career choices were decreasing by the minute. Tea was offered which Glenbama graciously consumed. I say graciously as if you’d seen this treacle you may not have partaken. Guilt level one. Glenbama told our hosts that I didn’t drink tea whereupon I was asked if I would like a coke, a can of which was produced shortly thereafter.
In case you’ve lived under a rock, you know Pakistani’s are mad….for cricket. No sooner had we uttered a word or responded to the question ‘where are you from?’ when we were rewarded with a thumbs-up. Good cricketers! David Boon! Alan Border! It was no different whilst being served by O’Bearded one. With limited English (our hosts not us), the conversation was limited but there was always cricket to fall back on. As much as we like cricket, there’s only so many cricket players you can name and they knew more about the team than I did!
We noticed outside each house was something I guess you could call a shrine. The village was buzzing because of the festival and due to someone was having a wedding in two days. O’Bearded one said we must come to the wedding. There I was thinking it was buzzing because of us. Such a shock to the ego. 😛
This get to know your session was totally unplanned and we didn’t have an exit strategy. Graciously having to decline the invitation on account of being in another city, seemed to be a fitting end however they seemed happy to keep us around. Sort of like a pet waiting to be shown off. Glenbama valiantly tried to extricate ourselves by saying we had to leave to buy some tea. Good try but a mistake albeit it a fantastic one. Arms were flapped and words rapidly spoken amongst the men before being told ‘we will take you’. Hmmm that exit strategy seemed to have been a roaring failure.
Hi Ho……Steel Chariots …… AWAY!!!
As much as we liked these guys we weren’t relishing the prospect of spending a couple of hours walking around with them in some random place. Before you could say ‘Alah ahkba’ we were ushered outside to our waiting chariots. We weren’t going alone, for we had Handy Andy and Home Alone (explanations of names further on), and we weren’t on foot. Bring on the mopeds from the front doors of a couple of houses. Guilt level 2.5!
Glenbama has played with motorbikes only once. He lasted all of 3-5 seconds before crashing into a wild rose bush in spectacular fashion and almost severing his groin. At that point he dusted himself off and tried again. It was not really better the second or third time round and that was the last time he’d been on two wheels.
Whoever got to take Glenbama had better be a good rider! Glenbama saddled up with Handy Andy looking as comfortable as riding a Penny Farthing with no seat. BWhilst I got Home Alone as my chauffeur. With no idea where we were going we waved goodbye to O’Bearded one and our other newly found friends.
Whilst we were careering along, I shouted to Glenbama that if we had an accident, no one would have the slightest idea where we were! It was a statement of fact not fear. It was funny at the time and even funnier now however if we had come off, I honestly couldn’t say where we would have ended up. I’m not sure how but we managed to make it to a market somewhere to buy tea. For much of the trip Handy Andy had one hand on the throttle whilst the other rested on Glenbama’s thigh; very handy and so sweet.
Home Alone was very chatty and saying that he wants to come to Australia to be an accountant and when he does he will stay with me. I smiled however I knew he wouldn’t be staying with me but would be staying home alone. Guilt level 3
In vain we attempted to farewell our 2 wheeled tour guides once we had arrived at the mysterious tea place however they were having none of it for they are tea connoisseurs. Glenbama found his quarry but Handy Andy wouldn’t let him pay for it. Handy Andy’s logic was revealed when he said “when I come to Australia you will do the same for me”. Guilt level 4.
High Tea and Guns
So now we are in a market somewhere with some tea (and cinnamon sticks which Glenbama casually mentioned) and two locals on mopeds. Now what? “back to the hotel Jeeves!” Saddle up! Handy Andy was handy as ever on the return leg and Home Alone was looking more forlorn the closer we got the hotel. Maybe he was worried we hadn’t bonded more or maybe he was jealous that Handy Andy was closing in on first base.
As we turned into the hotel drive, the guard grabbed his rifle and was about to test his sharp shooting skills until he saw our heads appear from behind Handy Andy and Home Alone. His bemused expression was priceless. The utter bewilderment caused his mouth to involuntary open whilst his eyes flicked from Glenbama to Handy Andy to Home Alone to me then back to Glenbama. We dismounted, shook hands and profusely thanked them for their hospitality and generosity. They gave us their names and said they would come to Australia and stay with us. We knew this wouldn’t happen but went along with it. Guilt level 5 out of 5.
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