Recently we had the time to do a little sightseeing. As I had already been to parts of Sindh and Punjab, and as summer has not really lifted yet, we chose the mountains. It was such a pleasure to be above the heat, hiking out in the fresh air and of course to see the amazing vistas. It always fills me with optimism to be in a place where you can see a great distance. Perhaps it has to do with the sense that boundaries are falling away, and many of you know about my tenuous relationship to boundaries. Endless natural beauty and a surrounding scent of pine needles helps the mood too, of course.
So, to a long weekend in Bhurban. The location is high up in the western foothills of the Himalayas, in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and near the border with Kashmir. I always chuckle when I hear Pakhtunkhwa; known until a few years ago as North-West Frontier Province. It was a lawless area and the name change is meant to convey a more civilization-friendly attitude. To be fair it is more than just re-branding, the area has a lot of military oversight now and I felt reasonably safe. But let’s be real, this isn’t Colorado we’re talking about here.
The main activity at this time of year is hiking, and of course eating (to provide the energy for hiking, don’t you know). Also, Shakeel loves photography so we got a lot of pictures of hiking and eating. There are many routes to choose from but I really wanted to head east and look down into Kashmir. We did reach a hilltop with such a view but it had become hazy by then and the pictures could just as easily be of the Los Angeles basin. But earlier in the day we got this picture to the north. Just over that ridge behind us is Abbottabad.
So, to a long weekend in Bhurban. The location is high up in the western foothills of the Himalayas, in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and near the border with Kashmir. I always chuckle when I hear Pakhtunkhwa; known until a few years ago as North-West Frontier Province. It was a lawless area and the name change is meant to convey a more civilization-friendly attitude. To be fair it is more than just re-branding, the area has a lot of military oversight now and I felt reasonably safe. But let’s be real, this isn’t Colorado we’re talking about here.
The main activity at this time of year is hiking, and of course eating (to provide the energy for hiking, don’t you know). Also, Shakeel loves photography so we got a lot of pictures of hiking and eating. There are many routes to choose from but I really wanted to head east and look down into Kashmir. We did reach a hilltop with such a view but it had become hazy by then and the pictures could just as easily be of the Los Angeles basin. But earlier in the day we got this picture to the north. Just over that ridge behind us is Abbottabad.
On that subject, one of my conversational parries is to ask people where they’re from, as almost no one is from Islamabad. The most common answers are Lahore, Peshawar, Faisalabad, or some village in Punjab or Sindh. One guy, after telling me he’s from Abbottabad, asked if I’d ever heard of it. That gave me a good laugh, although I think he was serious. I explained that EVERYONE in America knows Abbottabad as it was the hideout of Bin Laden, and the scene of his well-publicized execution. The house has recently been demolished so no pictures to offer.
On Saturday, we drove down into Murree, which was the British summer capital of Punjab during colonial times. There are many Victorian era buildings, including churches, amidst the haphazard Pakistani construction of more recent years. The streets, really just lanes, have to follow the contour of the mountain so it is really quite a jumble. As the only town of size for some distance, it is constantly crowded with stands of produce, live and slaughtered animals, textiles, clothing, car parts and lots and lots of shoppers. It’s a fun place, with interesting stores and at least one great restaurant (the mutton karahi is excellent).
As I’ve mentioned before I am often the only blonde person for miles so I always get a welcome greeting and, this being the 21st century, a request for a selfie. Sometimes I think I must be on every Pakistani’s Facebook page. Walking down Bank Road in Murree I felt like a celebrity at times, good laughs.
The return trip constitutes a story in itself. Our backup driver was due to drive up from Islamabad and collect us at ten in the morning. At about 9:30 he called to say he broke down on the way with a busted tie rod (this becomes a key detail). So, in a change of plans Kamal, our regular driver, was just leaving Islamabad to pick us up and bring up a replacement part for driver number two. On arriving at the breakdown, they discovered that the replacement was a left tie rod, while the broken part was a right tie rod (who knew?). So, in yet another change of plans Kamal was to take us home and then bring the correct part all the way up from Islamabad. At that point I remonstrated (that’s the polite word for it). It turned out they wanted to buy the part from a specific supplier because of a relationship of some sort. I insisted (again the polite word) they grow up and buy a part locally, as we had passed any number of repair shops on the way to the scene of the crime. The repair was surprisingly quick at that point and we got back to Islamabad only about two hours late (including a roadside stop for lunch, of course; Namkeen boti). Below we are celebrating the repair; flanking me are the mechanics, Pervez and Rajeesh. Shakeel took the picture as he was not in a smiling mood. All part of the fabric of life.
On Saturday, we drove down into Murree, which was the British summer capital of Punjab during colonial times. There are many Victorian era buildings, including churches, amidst the haphazard Pakistani construction of more recent years. The streets, really just lanes, have to follow the contour of the mountain so it is really quite a jumble. As the only town of size for some distance, it is constantly crowded with stands of produce, live and slaughtered animals, textiles, clothing, car parts and lots and lots of shoppers. It’s a fun place, with interesting stores and at least one great restaurant (the mutton karahi is excellent).
As I’ve mentioned before I am often the only blonde person for miles so I always get a welcome greeting and, this being the 21st century, a request for a selfie. Sometimes I think I must be on every Pakistani’s Facebook page. Walking down Bank Road in Murree I felt like a celebrity at times, good laughs.
The return trip constitutes a story in itself. Our backup driver was due to drive up from Islamabad and collect us at ten in the morning. At about 9:30 he called to say he broke down on the way with a busted tie rod (this becomes a key detail). So, in a change of plans Kamal, our regular driver, was just leaving Islamabad to pick us up and bring up a replacement part for driver number two. On arriving at the breakdown, they discovered that the replacement was a left tie rod, while the broken part was a right tie rod (who knew?). So, in yet another change of plans Kamal was to take us home and then bring the correct part all the way up from Islamabad. At that point I remonstrated (that’s the polite word for it). It turned out they wanted to buy the part from a specific supplier because of a relationship of some sort. I insisted (again the polite word) they grow up and buy a part locally, as we had passed any number of repair shops on the way to the scene of the crime. The repair was surprisingly quick at that point and we got back to Islamabad only about two hours late (including a roadside stop for lunch, of course; Namkeen boti). Below we are celebrating the repair; flanking me are the mechanics, Pervez and Rajeesh. Shakeel took the picture as he was not in a smiling mood. All part of the fabric of life.
Completely off the topic – the best thing I can say about the US election is that it will be over soon.
Wishing you the very best,
Wishing you the very best,
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