PAKISTAN: NOT QUITE OVERLAND BUT WHAT AN ADVENTURE!

[jim65wagon]

We stopped for a light lunch on the way home and spent a quiet evening resting up. I know I was still lagging from the flight over. Beth and I went to bed fairly early and slept well. Well, we slept until 2:24AM that is. My phone rang, it was Umar. Madeline was having bouts of stomach pain and her dizziness from earlier in the day was much worse. Umar and Rizwan (his Brother in Law) were going to take her to the hospital. Of course, Beth and I would go with them, no question about that. Within just a few minutes we were standing at the gate to the courtyard. As I opened it a little car pulled up to the house. We hopped in the backseat with Madeline and with Rizwan behind the wheel we sped off to the hospital.


The hospital in Islamabad was surrounded by a fence and we had to drive past a guard shack, with Rizwan explaining that we did, indeed, have a medical emergency. The guards let us in and we parked near the emergency room door. Unlike ERs in the States, as we walked in this one, there were no crowds of people sitting in chairs waiting their turn. There were no chairs at all, actually. We walked up to the front desk and a couple of attendants asked Maddy and Umar what was going on.



They took Madeline's blood pressure, pulse and temperature. After just a few minutes we were directed to a privacy booth with a bed for Madeline. Not a minute after that a doctor arrived with more questions and gave Maddy a brief examination. He explained that he believed she was suffering from an acute viral gastro enteritis, and dehydration. He prescribed her some pain medications and directed the nurse to give her an IV for the meds and to combat the dehydration.



Umar, ever the concerned husband took photos of the medications prescribed. Then he called his doctor friend back in the States and asked her opinion of the treatment plan. She approved of the meds and Umar felt better. With the meds, Madeline began feeling better too.



We all sat around, while the fluids and medications flowed into Madeline's arm, and talked about the efficiency of the Pakistan Health Care system and how it differed from our experiences in the US. Umar got called away to fill out some paperwork and pay for the exam, IV and Medications. The bill came to $15,000 rupees, or for us Americans 55 US dollars. He and Rizwan was quite upset at the expensiveness of the treatment, as the average Pakistani only makes a few hundred rupees a week and that 15,000 could well represent a 2-4 weeks of wages. Us, being the rich Americans that we are in Pakistan, gladly paid in cash.


Since it was daylight by the time we were leaving the hospital, we all decided today's plan was to get some rest. Madeline especially needed it and tomorrow we would all be loading up into our big bus and heading north, our tour of Pakistan was just beginning.

 

[jim65wagon]

Episode 2 of the video series Americans in Pakistan, follows the trip to Taxila and the trip to the hospital.

 

[jim65wagon]

NARAN​

We rested the day after the hospital event, Madeline especially needed a day to sleep and get a little more back to normal. In the evening we experienced our first big rainstorm in Islamabad. Thunder and lightning and the smell of rain filled the air.


Back home we would have called it “A 6 inch rain” meaning there was 6 inches between the raindrops. Not much water but a good display in the sky. The next morning we were up by 6AM, the bird show went off as usual and we finished packing everything that didn't get packed the night before.









We had emptied everything from our suitcases and sorted out the items not going on this leg of the journey. Mostly the souvenirs we had bought, some of the warmer weather clothes (getting out of this 106 degree heat was going to be awesome!) and a few of the electrical items that weren't necessary. We carried our luggage down to the gate and waited the few minutes for the van to sweep us away to the family's house. We said our goodbyes to our servants, thanking them in English but motioning the common thank you they have used to us. Bowing our heads slightly and sweeping a hand from the heart toward them. They responded in kind and with a smile, so I think we got our intentions across the language barrier. Umar had specifically forbidden us from tipping them, but we're adults and we do what we want. As I was getting ready to exit the gate I handed the young man a roll of cash. The thousand rupees will do the young couple some good and, heck, it's only three and a half dollars for me.

Once at the family house we unloaded our suitcases from the van and situated the suitcase that was staying behind in one of the bedrooms. Beth and I each had a backpack and a suitcase. Everyone else had the same, so there were 12 of us in the apartment with 12 backpacks and 12 suitcases ready for adventure.

Soon enough our bus arrived, a 20 passenger Hino. Our driver for the duration of our trip, Mustafa, knew enough English to say Hello. I was trying to learn hello in Urdu, but I screwed it up every time. The driver loaded our luggage into the farthest back seats of the bus. I think I irritated him a little at first by helping carry the luggage onto the bus. After about the third or fourth suitcase though, he got into the groove and was smiling as I handed him suitcases.

With the bus loaded we all boarded and the driver took us out of Islamabad and up to the Naran Valley. Our first stop for the day was only two hours away.

 

[jim65wagon]

Umar and his family wanted to give us a taste of Pakistan's street bazaars so we stopped outside of Murree. Within a few moments talking to one of the many drivers awaiting customers we all crammed ourselves into two very tiny vans. These are frequently the taxi cab of choice, but they are not made for American sized passengers. They are tiny and tight with hard seats, but they are decorated beautifully on the inside with bright paint, bright decorated cloth liners with dangly deelybobbers bouncing along with us as we bounced down the road, weaving in and out of crowds of people.








We departed in a crowd of people and started walking along, Umar assigned each pair of Americans a designated brown person to help them as translators, and if needed, bargainers. Our DBP was Ali, Umar's brother, he cheerfully walked with us through the massive crowds of people. He taught us to say “Ne Ne Ne!” at the absolute hoards of children selling various items like melty candy bars or trinkets from other stalls, they literally ran at us, surrounding us with outstretched hands. I might have been inclined to buy an overpriced necklace or candy bar, but the sheer magnitude of 10 year old hands beckoning was overwhelming and dissuaded my desire to purchase something. Ali reminded us several times to keep our money in our front pockets, but for us this is standard practice in any crowd, even in the US.




As we were shopping in and out of the many many stalls along the Murree Mall Road. We heard a crowd of people shouting over the din of the normal crowd noises. There was a large group of people surrounding a few people. Cameras and microphones were filming what was happening. I had not figured out what exactly was going on, but soon found a camera and microphone in my face along with someone speaking so rapidly my slow old ears couldn't make out what was being said. I waved my hand at them, and said “Ne Ne Ne!” and turned away and headed into the next shop. As the group moved on down the mall, Rizwan spoke with one of them. They were promoting the bags they were carrying to eliminate the use of the typical plastic bags. The bags they were handing out were woven strands of fabric made from plastic. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and guess that their bags were at least made from recycled products.

As we walked along from stall to stall we came across another small crowd. This one surrounded a child with a hawk resting on his gloved hand. The child was smiling and his parents were taking pictures. An older gentleman looked at Madeline and said something like
“You want?”
Madeline looked at us just like she did when she was a child and wanted to try something new. She's totally an adult at 26 years old, but the look on her face took me back 20 years in an instant. Beth and I both gave her an emphatic “Do it!” and she nodded to the man.



He took the hawk from the kid and as he held it on his arm he handed Madeline the thick leather glove. She slipped it on her hand and the hawk man took her arm and held it up so that it made a level perch. He moved the hawk close to her hand and uttered a quiet phrase and the bird made a small jump from his hand to hers. As Beth and I were taking pictures Madeline marveled at how close she was to such a beautiful bird. She was enjoying herself, as for me I got just a little too close to the hawks face with my camera and he ruffled his head feathers a bit in annoyance. I backed off a bit and he calmed back down. Maddy commented on his weight on her arm and the sharpness in his talons and his eyes. After a few minutes the man told me the price in rupees and I handed him the money. I forget the exact amount but it was only a few dollars in US funds and it was worth every penny. The crowd had formed around us by this point and I was ready to leave. Just as I was turning to go the man patted my shoulders and said:
“Big shoulder, you want?”
I smiled and said, “No, let someone else have a turn” I shoulda said yes. It was probably the last chance I'd ever get to have a bird of prey on my shoulder.....





We all got back together in the bazaar and in a group walked up the hill to see a viewpoint overlooking the valley. In the other direction Umar pointed out the military school he attended as a teenager. He told us of life in the school and how it consisted of changing clothes a lot. Wake up put on exercise clothes, exercise. Change clothes, eat breakfast. Change clothes, go to class. Change clothes, head out to the drill yard. Change clothes, go to dinner. He said could change outfits in like 30 seconds by the time he finished his time at military school.


We tried a couple of street foods, one was ears of corn cooked in a fire pit. We've done this camping on many occasions and it's always turned out great. Theirs had some weird tasting flavoring on it, which I did not find appealing, it was also quite tough, very reminiscent of eating the field corn farmers use for feeding cows or for ethanol production. The better corn was purchased in a small bag, it was kettle cooked – not popped, just cooked kernels. Tasty, sweet, some were slightly chewy some were crunchy. That was some good corn right there!

 

[jim65wagon]

We had some tea (or Coca Cola!) at the Cafe de Murree (established in Covid) to fortify us for the bus ride up to Naran.
For the drive back to the bus, we hired an open air buggy. As we were piling in and waiting to drive off, Beth and I noticed for the first time that people in the crowd were not just staring at us. Stares had become evident wherever we went, these people were taking pictures! Some were actively pointing their phones, some were surreptitious about it, doing the selfie thing with us in the background. One man stood close to the buggy, almost next to us while his partner took a photo. Umar made the comment that we should start charging money for photos. It was funny at the time, but we could've made bank by the end of the trip if we had!

An hour up the road, and we stopped for lunch in the picturesque hillside town of Nathia Gali, The place to eat was the Taj Mahal and it was the home of the original Patakha Roast Chicken. The food was excellent but we neglected our interweb duties and failed to photograph the meal. Suffice it to say that I would happily eat at the Taj Mahal in Nathia Gali again.



Well, there's what's left of the Patakha Chicken, and a kebab......

Back in the bus and we headed farther north and into the mountains proper. We still had a seven or eight hour drive to our next destination. We were delighted to see monkeys along the side of the road, and shocked at seeing a truck transporting middle school aged kids. It wasn't just that they were transporting them, no, there kids hanging onto the back and the sides of the truck standing onto whatever foothold they had and hanging onto whatever handhold was available. They swayed with the truck as it swayed through the turns, their backpacks bouncing as they bumped up the road at 50 miles an hour.









We passed through several small towns, weaving through traffic and weaving past the herds of goats and sheep the herders were taking into the mountains. Our road took us along the Kunhar River winding up higher in elevation. Outside the town of Paras and well after dark we had to stop at a police checkpoint. This was the first of many that asked for the Passports of any non-citizen as well as the visas of said tourists. One of the officers poked his head into the bus and looked at each of us in turn, speaking rapidly and our family replying to him in turn. Rizwan gathered our passports and told everyone to stay in the bus. He went out and spoke with the agents, coming back in after about 20 minutes. He told us that they wanted to keep the visas and had a long discussion that we would be needing the visas later on in our trip. They finally settled to taking photos of the passports, visas and additionally writing down everyone's information in a book. Rizwan handed everyone back their passports (with visas) as he told us the story. Apparently it is highly unusual for Americans to visit this area of their country.

 

[jim65wagon]

Another three hours and we were on a narrow, winding mountain road. I sadly couldn't see the view as it was after midnight, but out the front windshield things were getting interesting. The driver slowed to a stop, in front of us was a torrent of water cutting through a snowbank. The snow was taller than the bus and just about a bus and a half wide. We could see that it was actually the road and after a brief conversation (in Urdu) between the driver, Umar and Rizwan, the bus crept forward. The driver wound the bus through the water and snowfield and we came out the otherside unscathed. The driver put that bus through four more snowfields and through several more sheep herds too. Apparently the shepherds run all night and rest in the heat of the day.




At 2AM we finally arrived at our stop. The Roomy Mountain Resort of Batakundi. This would be our “camping” session of the trip. We weren't roughing it by any stretch of our imagination. Of the 12 people in our group we were the campers, Madeline and Umar have camped with us (Maddy camped a lot as a child with us), but the rest of our group have only camped minimally or not at all. They were considering the yurts and hotel perched on a mountain in the middle of nowhere to be “roughing it” Beth and I had a yurt and it only took a minute to realize that it had no heat, the staff provided us with electric blankets for warmth. The room temperature at this elevation and time of year (It was the first of June) was a solid 40 degrees Fahrenheit (at 2AM). Beth and I joked that it was just like being in the teardrop camper when we stayed in the mountains of Colorado or the Sierras. We dropped our luggage on the floor and climbed into bed. It only took me half a second to fall asleep.


The next morning Elizabeth and I woke and opened the curtain to the giant window on the yurt. The view was breathtaking! The yurts and hotel were set on a ridge, our yurt was overlooking the valley we drove up the night before. We could look waaayyyy down the valley, we could see the snow melt rivers that we crossed, and the peaks of mountains near and far. Spectacular!

Suddenly a face appeared in our window. It was Umar peering in beckoning us to breakfast. We all walked over to the office window and picked up our breakfast ticket and then around to the restaurant. Beth and I grabbed a cup of coffee (note: the coffee in Pakistan is not the best, they pretty much only use instant coffee. If you're a coffee snob you'll be quite disappointed) The rest of their spread was pretty good, though. Tea, eggs, parathas, various local foods that I don't remember the names but some were delicious and some were merely ok. There was a big pot of Handi that was good. It was good a good way to start our day.

 

[jim65wagon]

Americans in Pakistan Part 3
Murree Mall Road and Batakundi


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[jim65wagon]

After the big breakfast we all loaded into the bus and drove down the valley to Naran. The consensus was to stop where the snowmelt flowed across the road and enjoy the cool morning air and touch the icy cold waters. As luck would have it another herd of sheep happened to be crossing shortly after we arrived. After about half an hour of watching sheep, playing in the water and photographing the scenery it was time to get back on the bus.




As we drove along the Kunhar River we watched as an outfitters group loaded people into rubber rafts and pushed the boats out into the river. It looked like tons of fun, but as cold as the water is from the snowmelt I don't think it would've been that much fun. We passed another group downriver that were getting out of the rafts, the rafts being loaded onto the roofs of jeeps, three rafts high and they headed back up the road to send more people on a float.

Through the big carved canyons of snow the road weaved down the mountain. We passed a multitude of cars going up, along with more herds of various animals. Curiously, the children were selling single eggs. Umar told us that they are hard boiled and ready to eat as a nice driving snack..

 

[jim65wagon]

We made it into Naran on the backside of the bazaar streets, and poured out of the bus onto the street among a long line of jeeps. Rizwan immediately began a short negotiation process, after explaining to us that we would all fit in 2 jeeps and they would take us to the lake. Our treat for the day was a visit to Lake Saiful Muluk. The vehicles were all interesting to me, all were old jeeps with my brain saying they were from the 70's (I'm no Jeep guy though). They all were riding on those old military style tires, skinny with those big rectangular lugs perpendicular to the tire carcass. It looked like a rough riding piece of kit. The Most interesting aspect of these vehicles though was even with all being Jeeps, they nearly all sported emblems from other car companies. Emblems emblazoned on the grills: HINO, Mercedes, Lexus, Toyota. They were all 2 doors, soft tops with a little C shaped bench in the back. Eric, Beenish, Hadiqa and I all climbed into the back of our little orange Jeep, Beth took the shotgun seat. The driver smiled a big smile and said something, Beenish said it was basically “Hold On” and away we went.




We careened through the streets following a blue jeep. Horns blared as we turned up a rough paved road past the houses on the outskirts of town. Our driver passed the blue jeep and stuck his head out the window laughing loudly at the driver as we passed by the rest of our family in the second Jeep.






The race was on! I thought we were careening wildly through town before, but I was wrong. Once we got off the pavement and headed up a rough, rocky road things got interesting. Our driver kept his speed up, instead of crawling over rocks or through ruts we barreled! Every rock caused us all to fly out of our seats, every dip compressed our spines. Hold on indeed! The dude wasn't lying! We bounced along the road with the blue jeep on our tail, every now and again we'd pass a slower jeep going up the road. This caused a lot of horn honking from the jeeps coming down the hill. It was a steady stream of 70's Jeeps bouncing up and down the hill. That's what these guys do, every day they take passengers up to the lake and back down to town. The view out the window into the valley as we climbed was impressive, but the holding on tight did not leave much time for photographs. I took a few and Elizabeth took a few but the possibility of dropping the phone out of the window as we bounced along was pretty high. Rock hard tires, rock hard suspension, rock hard seats and a wild driver make for a wild ride up a rocky road. My stomach and kidneys were not happy.







As we neared the lake we had to stop at a gate to enter the National Park. The driver talked to the guard for a minute, handed him a ticket, then they had a longer conversation. The blue jeep pulled up alongside of our Orange one, the guard in between. Rizwan was hanging out the window shouting in Urdu. Beenish translated the conversation. Basically, even after paying the fee for the rental car which included the tickets to enter the park, the guards wanted more. They were saying there was a “Tourist Tax” and the foreigners would have to pay another 500 rupees each to enter the park. By this time Rizwan was out of the car and in a heated argument with the guard. I listened but could not understand one bit of what was being said. Eventually Rizwan motioned for our driver to leave and we pulled away from the gate. To this day I have no idea if we payed the fee or not, Rizwan is a very persuasive debater, so I'm thinking we did not pay that day....

We finally arrived at the parking lot, it looked like a Jeep show, literally hundreds of old Jeeps packed the parking lot. There were very few personal cars. A couple of 40 series Land Cruisers and I saw one 2000ish Prado, every thing else was the old rent-a jeep-with-driver. We bailed out of the car and our driver told us to meet back here a 2:45. Looking out across the Jeep show and your eyes immediately were drawn to the snow covered peaks in the background, just in front of those was the extremely blue waters of Saif ul Maluk.

 

[jim65wagon]

Sitting in the cool spring air at a hefty 10,500 feet elevation, Saif ul Maluk is a sight to behold. A truly breathtaking sight even with the hundreds of people forming the crowd along the shoreline and in the small bazaar. Once again, everywhere we turned there was someone hawking something. In this case it was mostly for Pony Rides through the snowfields. We all declined and worked our way along the path through the throngs of people.


This is where being an American was quite detrimental. Not only did we get hassled for the tourist tax, we were finding that we couldn't walk more than a few yards. The sheer number of people who actually stopped, begging my pardon and asked for photographs was astounding. It felt like we had celebrity status and a more enterprising me would've taken Umar's suggestion and charged 100 rupees per photo. We'd be stopped by a friendly person and standing close get our photos taken with them by their friends. It was a very surreal experience, but it made it feel like we were all friends at a picnic rather than foreigners intruding on a neighborhood you shouldn't be in.

We made our way through the throngs of people, stopping every now and again for a photograph with strangers, or to answer the obligatory “Where are you from?” My standard answer was the USA or The States, which always got a friendly smile and a “How do you like Pakistan?” in return.
“Pakistan is awesome, the scenery is beautiful, the food is good and the people are great!”


We finally made it to the lake shore, and the dozen or so boats and boatmen trying to get people to take a rowboat ride out onto the lake. Of course we wanted to go! We're water people to begin with, Elizabeth and I, Madeline too. We've kayaked for years and do not miss many opportunities to be on the water. Umar arranged for two boats to carry our entire group ( except for Eric who declined and flew his drone instead, swarmed by a mass of children very interested in him and the drone) to the far edge of the open water.








Now, that's not the far edge of the lake mind you, a good three quarters of the lake is covered in thick ice so we were getting dropped off as far from the docks as possible so we could hike our way back. The boatman we had was a chatty fellow with a classic weathered and rough look to him. He easily got us out into the water, Umar needled him to try the rowing until he relented and moved aside. I think Umar quickly discovered that rowing a boat is not an innate ability and there is a good bit of skill involved to go the direction one desires. After nearly running ashore, then almost crashing into the ice floe, and finally a near miss with another boat the oarsman took the oars away from Umar and landed us on the shoreline. We all laughed and smiled and thanked the man as we disembarked and bounced back onto the land.

 

[jim65wagon]

We “hiked” along the path stopping for photos of the lake and several moments of comic relief video of American tourists vs Pakistani tourist seeing the amazing sights. Hadiqa and Sabrina wanted to have a snowball fight so we all went off through the snowfields to find a piece of snow without horse apples in it. Watching two young kids having their first snowball fight was one of the highlights of the day.



We made our way back through the crowds to the bazaar and ordered some tea, french fries, and some little deep fried hash browny like balls of lightly spiced goodness. Our conversation around the table led to the road and the jeeps and drivers, and of the few personal vehicles in the parking area. Rizwan asked
“Who would bring their own car up a road like that?”
Who indeed? With the experiences Elizabeth and I have had over the last 17 years of camping out in the wilds I was quick to answer.
“I would”
“Really?” came his eyebrows raised reply
“Oh heck, yeah. The road is rough, sure, but it's no rougher than some mountain passes in the States. We've been on worse. And this one is not so bad I wouldn't bring the teardrop up it. Granted I would've aired down the tires and driven a lot slower, but our truck and trailer could do this road.”
I don't think he believed me...

 

[alanymarce]

Thanks for your story - great to see your experience.

View attachment 856217


We all got back together in the bazaar and in a group walked up the hill to see a viewpoint overlooking the valley. In the other direction Umar pointed out the military school he attended as a teenager. He told us of life in the school and how it consisted of changing clothes a lot. Wake up put on exercise clothes, exercise. Change clothes, eat breakfast. Change clothes, go to class. Change clothes, head out to the drill yard. Change clothes, go to dinner. He said could change outfits in like 30 seconds by the time he finished his time at military school.

The scenery is beautiful here - here's a photo I took which might even be from the same viewpoint:



Umar's may be the same school I visited while in Murree - one of the Lawrence Colleges?

 

[Pacific Northwest yetti]

Thanks for posting!

 

[mep1811]

Thank you for sharing

 

[jim65wagon]

Thanks for your story - great to see your experience.

The scenery is beautiful here - here's a photo I took which might even be from the same viewpoint:

View attachment 857158

Umar's may be the same school I visited while in Murree - one of the Lawrence Colleges?

It Certainly looks like the same viewpoint! I'm not sure what Umar's Cadet School was called, or what it is now as he said the military school moved after he was finished. Are you there now? It was late May and June for us. Pakistan is amazingly beautiful.

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