India Amritsar and up to Pakistans North

2-9 may 05

Assalam Aleykum all,

we managed to reach almost Amritsar that last day and slept in a not really finished hotel at the roadside with 1000 mosquitoes, an again not working air condition but almost the best dinner in all India. It’s not that easy anymore to get vegetarian dishes like before in Rajasthan. They were all vegetarians, but now in Punjab the Sikhs love eating cute animals.
It’s a very special experience to enter Punjab. Suddenly all people get more friendly and personal, they don’t stare at you. Their extreme politness is almost a clash and we had to get used to it again. I had the feeling to be protected walking through the streets – not to have to protect myself somehow of the sometimes quite many many and therefore a bit nasty Indians. Maybe because Sikhs have always been known as loyal and brave warriors fighting for right – crusades and dschihad was also meant to be right…. – Well now they don’t look dangerous anymore, although most of them have a small dagger with them. But their faces talk another language – the language of respect and tolerance. Indians must consider them as workaholics, they seem to work the whole day to organise things like free food + accommodation for their pilgrim brethren here at the Golden Temple in Amritsar, which really works and looks even quite organised. They have dustbins and the chaos on the road is far not as much as in the rest of India – especially in Bihar… ;o)
We spend the day at the Temple and in the small streets of the Bazaar. The golden Temple looks like floating on a small lake, where goldfish and Sikhs mingle. The water is considered as holy, its story is moving: Long time ago… a father asked his 5 daughters: “Who is it, whom you shall worship for giving your life and everything you need? Who is it whom you admire most?” All of them answered like „it’s you our father!“, but one said: „I respect you and thank you, but it is god who gave everything so it’s him who I worship.“ The father got angry with his ungrateful daughter and married her to a paralysed man as revenge. She took the burden devote and carried her husband in a basket on her head. Once he had a vision. He should wash himself in a certain well. So he asked her to bring him there. After washing he was healed and they lived happily ever after or so…
This well is now the lake on which the Temple was built.
In the afternoon, after many stops at small shops we wanted to cross the border to Pakistan and continue to Lahore. I got to know Andy, and Austrian living in Lahore and he kindly invited us to stay with him.
At the border gate they told us: “Sorry, we close at 4pm!” It was 4:20pm. After long discussions we had to agree to come again tomorrow morning and stay for one more night in Amritsar. But out of this somehow frustrating issue came one of the funniest things in all over India. Every evening at 18:30 there is a parade at the border with more than 15.000 visitors (every day!!) and loud moving Punjabi music. Border security force soldiers with cute colourful turbans march across the large area in front of the gate on both Indian and Pakistani site.

The march in a strange choreography, shout commands, shake hands, have the most serious expression in their face and throw their legs high up in the sky. After performance on each side, the general speeds to the gate, opens it, shakes hands with his foreign counterpart and runs back – puh, safety… and sometimes it looks as if they can hardly subdue a smile on their faces themselves.
Cheered by his country fellows, of whom especially the Indians love to shout, sing and cheer. It’s a friendship ceremony to shows the goodwill of both states. Finally the flags are pulled down and the gate locked till morning. All spectators run towards the gate and wave to their friends from originally the same people. Both insist on being Punjabi if you ask them, not Pakistani or Indian, the Punjab area was separated after independence and separation of India/Paksitan after the British rule ended in 1947.
Back in Amritsar we spend some more time at the golden Temple which is in night time more impressive and golden as before, peaceful air all around, some sound, but not the loud nasty one. Many people ask us if we can pose for their picture - sure we will. We have asked so many Indians, Nepalis, Bhutanese to be on our pics, how could we deny?
Coincidentally we meet two Austrians who tell us that they stayed at Andy – the guy from Austria in Lahore. And they wanted to go to India yesterday, but they were late at the border…
I was happy we were late, we would have never seen the parade in the evening.

Next day we finally went to Pakistan after some discussions again. When Martin wanted to issue the Carnet de Passage for the car, he was presented with a list of “wanted” people, his name on top. They thought he had been in India since our entry last year, because the customs officer of Jaigaon (border to Bhutan, the one who has to clear exactly 2 cars a YEAR) was too busy (?) to send back the outgoing document. So they thought only he left India, but not the car. That’s dangerous, because you would have to pay the tax if you leave a car in a foreign country. Martin showed them his passport, where the car was cleared and told them that it’s their own fault. He also mentioned Mr Nitish, whom we met in Gwalior/India. He is now Tourism Development Minister of Madhya Pradesh, but was a very famous actor before. He played a role in an especially by women most loved TV series. He was Krishna, a popular Hindu God, who is known as a charming “womanizer” with 15.000 gopis (fairy like female beings). The customs lady was overwhelmed, she confessed, that she had never missed a single series and even postponed her wedding after 10 o clock coz that was the sending time
I took my deco shawl of the Nepali “kurta” (in India the same cloth is called “Punjabi”) put it over my hair to be properly dressed for entering a Moslem country. Here it’s called “Shalwar kameez”. It’s not illegal to stay without cover, but the society finds it easier to accept and integrate you if they see you try to go with their styles. It’s easier for them talk to women if they don’t look like “TV actresses or “prostitutes” as one called it.
Money changing is not that easy here, it’s not bank business but bazaari business. So we entered Lahore without Rupees. Lahore was the only city which I had bad memory of. Last year we had just passed by and my only impressions were dust, noise, heat and smelly air. I wanted to give Lahore the chance to change my opinion and it really did, but thora thora (slowly) WE asked our way through to Gulberg, the area where Andy lives. After knocking at the door a Scotsman in Pakistani dress opened the door and welcomed us. He asked if we were expected or only stopping by – seemed to be an open house. He and Lars, a German guy stayed their last days after 4 years of working for their NGO caring for handicapped people at Andys place. “ I think Andy is sleeping – it was a long night! Sit down and have a cup of tea! Feel home!” The house is huge, lots of rooms, beds, sofas, 2 kitchens a garden of which one part is covered with a mosquito grid. A great place to spend hot afternoons in the shade and relaxing evenings. Later we learned that Andy wasn’t sleeping but at the office. He does his compulsory community service (instead of military – in Austria men have to spend either 6 months at the army or 1 year in some community service, also abroad) here in Lahore for SOS Kinderdorf. There are more people living in the house: Brigitte, Andy’s girlfriend who works as music & movement teacher and Pierre, half French half German who works for a Pharma Company and is our “real” host. He was given the house for the time of his duty one month ago. Though they have only been living there for such a short time they somehow managed to fill the house with friendliness and tolerance, cosiness and life.
Andy arrived a little later and gave us again a most friendly welcome. Pierre and Brigitte reached home soon, Brigitte brought strawberry juice. „Isn’t it a bit dangerous to drink it?“ „Well, there is ice and milk inside. Yes, dangerous, but I don’t mind. For the taste it’s worth taking the risk. Decide yourselves!“ It was the most delicious fresh juice I have ever had – out of my own house with home grown strawberries and farmer’s milk. We got addicted. I can’t believe that we had no fresh fruit juice last year. It’s available in most places in Pakistan. Well it was my first time then – young, stupid and frightened. ;o)
Andy confessed that he had thought I am an older woman of 45 or so. ”Isabella sounds like…” he laughs, warm-hearted as the whole house is. His friends grinned: “He even told us to behave when you come!”
We started cooking together, talking, joking, asking, … Soon there came two Pakistani friends of Andy and Pierre. Mr Safdar Magsi a lawyer who also runs an NGO for agricultural development and feeds himself mostly with joints.
The other one was Captain Sahib. Many different nations on one round table, this is how I like it. The 11 of us had 6 Nationalities. There’s so much one can learn.
We shifted to the garden. A big brass hookah (water pipe) filled with raspberry tobacco stood in the middle, surrounded by now 8 people, a sitar, tablas, a guitar and castagnettes (I don’t know if this is an English word, sorry)
It was a really great, interesting, easygoing and enjoyable evening. Full of questions, stories, music and time to relax. I had a long talk with Captain Sahib about the positive aspects of Islamic culture and as every one he wants to know why people in Europe and America are afraid to come to Pakistan and why we “dared” to go. He also told me quite straight that he has a relative somewhere who would be pleased to have a woman like me – as soon as I stop this strange western ideas of having boyfriends instead of one husband. Even if this offer is not really my cup of tea it’s most interesting to see and hear how a Pakistani is talking about topics like this.
There has never been a Pakistani talking that long to me – except Rehmat Ullah at Taftan border last year. I had only known the Northern Areas of Pakistan where the people are much more conservative and a man has no idea or practice of how to behave concerning women other than mother, sister, daughter or wife. It was really strange in the beginning. Only when a liberal Pattan explained the meaning of the behaviour to me, I could understand that it was just respect if they tell you not to talk, answer your question (if you dared to express them) to your „husband“, bring you to the kitchen, interrupt you while talking, don’t look in your face and many more things which would be considered very unfriendly in western culture.
In Lahore it was already different when we entered the city. Many women were on the roads in colourful Shalwar kameezes sometimes even talking to merchants. Last year I had only seen women inside the houses where we were invited. Martin had only seen 2 women.

Still in the garden, the noise grew, so Pierre said to Safdar Magsi: “I can’t hear you so well, so I try to read from your lips, but that’s difficult with you moustache. I only see the lower part of your words!” “So what did my lower lip say?”
Andy told us about the big festivals in Muslim community. After Ramadan they celebrate “Bakra Eid” . On the first day the city is full of animals, on the 2nd day full of blood and then full of fur. Everyone buys an animal according to his own financial possibilities and sacrifices it after dieting. Another festival is called “Moharram” where around 500 extreme “believers” beat themselves with stones. Andy spoke of blood stains on his camera and clothes while watching them and of the monotone loud “clack, clack, clack” of the stones hitting breasts and ribs.
Chand Bhai is the next lucky incident we bumped into – or were bumped into.

He is a real Lahori, knows every corner of the city, all people, all tricks and was “street fighter” for fairness in his early years. He talks about his homicides and other illegal actions not proudly but almost serene. Now after the death of his father he cares for his sister suffering from polio and his old mother.
Andy arranged a wonderful trip through the old city with his bazaar, old mosques and fort with this guy. He was the first Pakistani Andy meet in Lahore when he came 4 years ago for the first time at 3am when all phone shops had closed and there was light in a small whatever shop near the road. Andy stopped, asked if he could make a phone call and ended up staying with Chand Bhai. Now they are friends and call each other “twin brothers” – one not even 30, tall, short bearded; the other one 50+, dark skinned with a long, dyed beard. Spiritual brothers.
Chand Bhai took us and Shabnam, a young lady from Mauritius on a trip through his Lahore and brought life to old stones with stories from bygone times.
Near the mosque we met two Slovenians who are also on their way home and want to go via Afghanistan, as we want. It was not really easy to get reliable information about the roads and safety situations (Kevin read on before you start writing disencouraging mails!! ;o)
We heard all possible answers ranging from “no problem as long as you don’t drive at night” to “that’s suicide!” “Roads are ok, border is open” to “roads are undriveable, border is closed”
Maybe we can find out more if 6 people are asking questions instead of 4. Right today we were really disencouraged. Last few days the best known tourist internet café was blown up in Kabul, the city which everyone considered most safe and foreigners died in Kandahar.
We wanted to go either only to Kabul, Bamiyan and maybe Mazar-i-Sharif and back to Pakistan or even through Afghanistan via Kandahar and Heart, but this seems to be impossible now.
Anyway, we were still in the Bazaar and Chand Bhai spreaded the best atmosphere. The bazaar is far not as beautiful and moving as the ones in e.g. Esfahan, Kayseri, Yazd, Istanbul etc. but it has its special flair.

In one of the shoe streets there were only men. Chand Bhais explanation was, that this was the red light area, women here are in the upperparts of the houses – prostitutes. Prostitution means dancing for money – nothing more (?) he said. Martin once again commented that there are no shoes in his size in the east of Istanbul and our friend tried his best to show him the opposite. Usually this kind of game takes long, so I decided to go outside and have a cigarette. I sat down; men were staring at me with curious eyes, sometimes suspicious, sometimes demanding. I didn’t care. After a while 3 of them came towards me and told me to throw away the cigarette. Women must not smoke. Suddenly Davids head appeared in the doorframe. The 3 men excused themselves – to him – and disappeared.
After long hours of roaming the bazaar, plenty of street food and some more strawberry shakes we stranded again at Chand Bhais with tea and Kulfi (ice cream). Pierre, Lars, Graham, Safdar, Brigitte + Andy also joined and we went for another tea and paratha. Then we saw Lars, Graham, Brigitte and Andy off and went on to the best SufiNite I have ever had. Sufi is a kind of Religion or better Spirituality. Sufis originated from Islam, they believe in a friendship – not fear – with god and that they can gain spiritual unity with this god through meditation or trance. In this state they come with music, dance (dervish), drugs and love. They don’t mind how you call your god, but just believe in him/her/whatever. I got to know a little of their philosophy and it really attracts me. The only bad thing is, that women are not allowed to dance to the music.
We sat down and because of Chand Bhais influence (he said) we were allowed to mingle with the man. Usually if there are women at this dance night, the stay in a fenced place, separated from men. The music, sound, the whirling dancers, the atmosphere was so great, I really wished to join the dancers. My feet kept moving and it was very hard not to jump up and move my body. So I sat there, swinging with the beat, closed eyes, listening and somehow meditating. It was a big event and they do it very Thursday in Lahore. I want to have more days there. I definitely have to go there again!!
I cant explain how it was, just close your eyes – not now, first read: imagine the most wonderful music from tablas, sitars etc whatever you like, add a cosy atmosphere, people dancing fast and faster, shaking there heads and stamping their feet with these small bells – so now close your eyes and imagine – maybe you can feel a bit of what I meant.
Till 3am we stayed there, felt to bed like dead and decided (not me!) to leave for Peshawar and maybe Afghanistan, but at least Chitral or Swat Valley in the north.

A long journey on perfectly built roads led us on almost 500km to Peshawar. 3laned with out holes, horse carts, donkeys, rickshaws etc – a real motorway. The landscape rushed by, there was not much time to enjoy it – like the motorways in Austria or elsewhere. There was even a police car with mobile speed measure tools (radar ?) The first hills appeared at the horizon, I was happy to see them, it was going up again and getting cooler.
Almost midnite we arrived at a nice hotel and right from the reception we were invited for late dinner by to civil servants from Lahore who were posted here and wanted to leave on the nitebus. Massoud was quite curious and asked if he could question me on some personal topics. I agreed. I know how it is when you meet people from different cultures, lots of questions burning under your skin and you don’t know if you embarrass your counterpart. He was very direct: “Are you married?” – no – “Are you virgin?” – no. “??? Again: are you married?” – no – „Ok, not married. So you are virgin?“ – no. – “So it is true that you have boyfriends before you marry in Europe?” – yes – “How you get to know each other? Are people angry if a relation like this breaks? What do your parents think about it? How old are you when you marry? How many members are in one family? … So the grandparents don’t stay in the family? Don’t you pay respect to your elders? They raised you. Is Austria a developed country? What means ‚economically yes, but in the heart Pakistanis are richer? Arent you the ones who are educated? Which Religion is most spread in Austria? Christians? So you are believers! … Right, we believe in the same god – Jews, Christians and Moslems. Only Hindus and Buddhists are infidels. How do feel as a woman here – watch out, your shawl slipped away. What are women talking about among eachother? And men? And do they talk about the same things with each other – men and women?”
I could hardly eat my Afghani Pulau (fried rice with fruits and vegetables). Once they started, there is no end. So many things he wanted to know.
We were not allowed to pay, it seems to be really embarrassing to Pakistanis if you deny the invitation. Also on the next day we were invited on the spot at a small restaurant at the roadside. Even the fruit juice walla gifted us with free refilling. Almost a litre of banana milk shake for breakfast and I didn’t need anything else.
At the Hyundai workshop the customer relations assistant presented me his card with mobile number when he needed to go out for some “business” – “It’s only half an hour, but if there are any problems, don’t hesitate to contact me. Here is a present for you!” he said and gave me a Hyundai car calendar 2005. So I was safe. I have to confess that sometimes I am happy if I only know the right month.
I cant really tell what was/is wrong with the car because I don’t know the proper words, but there were problems with the air condition, which had have a lickage since we left; the breaks are almost gone, the is warm air if you turn on only the fan, some strange noise from the tyre, the diesel tank was licking etc.
They told us, that if we go to Kabul, we will get the spare parts there. There are so many stolen cars around that they have almost any spare part one can need.
After 2 days in Peshawar roaming the bazaar, being invited at every corner for lunch, dinner, tea (kawa = green tea with cardamom + sugar), fruit juices, snacks, … I owned some more tea pots, tea cups, spices, a brass hookah like Andy had in Lahore and many other useful things. And surely many many pictures. Lots of Pakistanis were asking for a snap,

so many shops in a style we don’t have in Europe – every part of the bazaar has its main topic, so you find a street of cloth sellers, one for brass, one for kitchen stuff, one for tools, one for spare parts (but nothing for Hyundai), one for ropes, one for furniture, one for spices, one for vegetables and fruits, one for meat and so on. The technicians did a great job and even found the lickage in the ac system. There were no breaks available, but one of them told us the car will make it till Turkey, if we don’t go to Afghanistan.
We are now on the way to Chitral, one of the most beautiful valleys here in Pakistan. Next week a spring festival will take place in the side valleys populated by Kalash tribes – the only tribes which are still not Muslims, but kept their own old Vedic religion. There are said to be descendants of Alexander the Great. Let’s see what this Greek guy left here – sorry, Macedonian. At least we found a Greek newspaper, but further south where we stay today.

there are pics on yahoo - they are too much for this blog... if you are asked for a password: acchigom

Pakistan with car pics