Helo flights, Logans Run and the Bird Flu (03/29/06)
I decided to stay and may now have to extend my trip a few days on top of all of this. Will the fun start soon?
I was scheduled to helicopter out of Abbottabad last week and spend a night or two in the mountains with some IOM staff who literally built a heli-pad up in the mountains so they could reach families in the area who could not or would not come down after the earthquake. Honestly it sounded great. About 12 hours before we were set to leave they called it off because of weather. Apparently they left anyway on Friday and just returned today (Monday), so much for an overnight delivery run into the mountains. Three hour tour anyone? Now after what seemed to be an unending round of phone calls and kind words, I may be able to fly out this coming Thursday. Therein lies the problem. I am scheduled to fly out Friday morning at eight AM from Islamabad (two plus hours south).
I figure I am going to extend just in case, its better to try and fail then wonder what if for the rest of my life.
After making the decision to stay in Pakistan, I also decided to continue with my weekend break as planned, Virginia and I had made plans to visit Lahore for the weekend, sort of hang out and look for a story. Unfortunately my mind was not 100 percent on work, so I admit to a lack of working and more of a wandering. This aimlessness did not limit the amount of action however. We decided to ride the nearly 7 hours south in the much hyped “Luxury” busses run by the South Korean company Daewoo. Our thoughts were to spend as much time as possible in Lahore as it’s the cultural capital of Pakistan and we have been told repeatedly that we had “not been born” until we have seen Lahore. Well there you go.
Our first lesson was that an overnight bus in the third world, despite its title does not equal Luxury. Sure it may sound like a no brainer but lets be fair it looked fine. No bus seat is comfortable for 7 hours, and I feel as though I have been singled out to prove that tall people don’t belong in South Asia. The bus line however is chock full of cool features like, a hostess who serves you soda and sandwiches, she also addresses the passengers in a fantastic monotone, stop and go manner that resembles a person reading a script for the first time out loud. Virginia and I were the only ones to fully appreciate the comparison but the PA system is set to heavy reverb, so much so that when she speaks in that emotionless voice, pausing every 4-5 words regardless of where she is the sentence, all I could think of was disembodied female voice in Logan’s Run. It helped that the interior cabin lights were a deep blue. Only Virginia and I were laughing at her speech so we figured the rest of the bus hadn’t seen the movie.
7 grueling hours later, sore assed, slightly slept and sure that my knees would never regain full extension, we arrived in Lahore just in time for the sun to come up.
Our friend had made arrangements for us to stay with his brother in law during our stay but warned that he was very conservative and that we would be wise to avoid discussion religion or politics with him. Unfortunately our friend seems to have forgotten to give the same request to his brother in law, because within minutes of our arrival we were trying like hell to get out of the spiraling discussion regarding both religion and politics and anything else not fit for discussion at 7:30 AM after a long painful bus ride.
After a long nap Virginia and I went out looking for something to do, we settled on getting lunch and getting to the Wagah Border. Wagah Border is an Eastern border between India and Pakistan. Every day at sunset both countries put on an extremely complicated and raucous ceremony whilst they take down the flags and close the border.
On the way to Wagah you suddenly leave behind a large sprawling urban environment and pop into nowhere. I was in mid-sentence when I had realized that we went from trees and suburbs to dry plains and brick factories. It was very sudden and damn strange, almost as if we were driving through the back lot of a movie studio looking two different movies being filmed at the same time.
At the gate you can hear the crowds chanting “Pakistan!” while you walk up to what looks like the back end of a small college stadium. This is where Virginia and I were separated because we wouldn’t want the women to be in the same area as the men. After all we are talking about watching two countries close a border, woman shouldn’t be near men on such occasions.
The scene was fantastic! Two men in Pakistani flag design Salwar Kameez, waving huge Pakistani flags, one was mid forties the other mid 70’s both VERY energetic and firing the crowd up. (Side question: How does one get to be a national mascot or opening act for a border closing?) The old guy was great, he had 4 teeth and salty look about him, he kept running up to the gate, waving the flag at the Indians and then walking back towards Pakistan screaming at us.
With great pomp and not one ounce of irony, the two militaries color guards high stepped towards each other, one at a time trying to out do each other with the height of their high kicks and the volume of their boots stomping on the ground, they met, shook hands, took their positions and took down their flags. Everyone cheered for his or her country, the gate was closed and photos were taken. What I want to know is why the US doesn’t have a bleachers set up for cheering fans on the way into Canada and Mexico? How much fun are we missing in the name of border security?
The weekend came and went with fun (finally got to buy alcohol despite never getting a permit to do so) and some not fun. I would say that my mind was nowhere near being in Lahore and that I owe it another visit later in my lifetime.
Today I spent on the phone trying to organize the helicopter flight, organizing photos and photographing the chicken vendor stalls in the marketplace for some “bird flu” shots. The government swears that the virus has been contained here and that chicken is safe. Just in case I went to the market and shot some pics of the chickens, men handling them, people buying em, killing them and cleaning them. All in all, a stinky, gore filled day. Which incidentally helps me maintain my vegetarian lifestyle, instituted the morning of the viruses confirmation here in Abbottabad. Sure there is mutton and beef but, I see that meat hanging in the sun all day, chickens at least are killed right when you buy em. I am still not sure where the fish is coming from. They look too big to be from the rivers and the ocean in almost a whole 24 hours by train due south.
It’s getting late and I need to call my Dad,
I hope your all well
D
I was scheduled to helicopter out of Abbottabad last week and spend a night or two in the mountains with some IOM staff who literally built a heli-pad up in the mountains so they could reach families in the area who could not or would not come down after the earthquake. Honestly it sounded great. About 12 hours before we were set to leave they called it off because of weather. Apparently they left anyway on Friday and just returned today (Monday), so much for an overnight delivery run into the mountains. Three hour tour anyone? Now after what seemed to be an unending round of phone calls and kind words, I may be able to fly out this coming Thursday. Therein lies the problem. I am scheduled to fly out Friday morning at eight AM from Islamabad (two plus hours south).
I figure I am going to extend just in case, its better to try and fail then wonder what if for the rest of my life.
After making the decision to stay in Pakistan, I also decided to continue with my weekend break as planned, Virginia and I had made plans to visit Lahore for the weekend, sort of hang out and look for a story. Unfortunately my mind was not 100 percent on work, so I admit to a lack of working and more of a wandering. This aimlessness did not limit the amount of action however. We decided to ride the nearly 7 hours south in the much hyped “Luxury” busses run by the South Korean company Daewoo. Our thoughts were to spend as much time as possible in Lahore as it’s the cultural capital of Pakistan and we have been told repeatedly that we had “not been born” until we have seen Lahore. Well there you go.
Our first lesson was that an overnight bus in the third world, despite its title does not equal Luxury. Sure it may sound like a no brainer but lets be fair it looked fine. No bus seat is comfortable for 7 hours, and I feel as though I have been singled out to prove that tall people don’t belong in South Asia. The bus line however is chock full of cool features like, a hostess who serves you soda and sandwiches, she also addresses the passengers in a fantastic monotone, stop and go manner that resembles a person reading a script for the first time out loud. Virginia and I were the only ones to fully appreciate the comparison but the PA system is set to heavy reverb, so much so that when she speaks in that emotionless voice, pausing every 4-5 words regardless of where she is the sentence, all I could think of was disembodied female voice in Logan’s Run. It helped that the interior cabin lights were a deep blue. Only Virginia and I were laughing at her speech so we figured the rest of the bus hadn’t seen the movie.
7 grueling hours later, sore assed, slightly slept and sure that my knees would never regain full extension, we arrived in Lahore just in time for the sun to come up.
Our friend had made arrangements for us to stay with his brother in law during our stay but warned that he was very conservative and that we would be wise to avoid discussion religion or politics with him. Unfortunately our friend seems to have forgotten to give the same request to his brother in law, because within minutes of our arrival we were trying like hell to get out of the spiraling discussion regarding both religion and politics and anything else not fit for discussion at 7:30 AM after a long painful bus ride.
After a long nap Virginia and I went out looking for something to do, we settled on getting lunch and getting to the Wagah Border. Wagah Border is an Eastern border between India and Pakistan. Every day at sunset both countries put on an extremely complicated and raucous ceremony whilst they take down the flags and close the border.
On the way to Wagah you suddenly leave behind a large sprawling urban environment and pop into nowhere. I was in mid-sentence when I had realized that we went from trees and suburbs to dry plains and brick factories. It was very sudden and damn strange, almost as if we were driving through the back lot of a movie studio looking two different movies being filmed at the same time.
At the gate you can hear the crowds chanting “Pakistan!” while you walk up to what looks like the back end of a small college stadium. This is where Virginia and I were separated because we wouldn’t want the women to be in the same area as the men. After all we are talking about watching two countries close a border, woman shouldn’t be near men on such occasions.
The scene was fantastic! Two men in Pakistani flag design Salwar Kameez, waving huge Pakistani flags, one was mid forties the other mid 70’s both VERY energetic and firing the crowd up. (Side question: How does one get to be a national mascot or opening act for a border closing?) The old guy was great, he had 4 teeth and salty look about him, he kept running up to the gate, waving the flag at the Indians and then walking back towards Pakistan screaming at us.
With great pomp and not one ounce of irony, the two militaries color guards high stepped towards each other, one at a time trying to out do each other with the height of their high kicks and the volume of their boots stomping on the ground, they met, shook hands, took their positions and took down their flags. Everyone cheered for his or her country, the gate was closed and photos were taken. What I want to know is why the US doesn’t have a bleachers set up for cheering fans on the way into Canada and Mexico? How much fun are we missing in the name of border security?
The weekend came and went with fun (finally got to buy alcohol despite never getting a permit to do so) and some not fun. I would say that my mind was nowhere near being in Lahore and that I owe it another visit later in my lifetime.
Today I spent on the phone trying to organize the helicopter flight, organizing photos and photographing the chicken vendor stalls in the marketplace for some “bird flu” shots. The government swears that the virus has been contained here and that chicken is safe. Just in case I went to the market and shot some pics of the chickens, men handling them, people buying em, killing them and cleaning them. All in all, a stinky, gore filled day. Which incidentally helps me maintain my vegetarian lifestyle, instituted the morning of the viruses confirmation here in Abbottabad. Sure there is mutton and beef but, I see that meat hanging in the sun all day, chickens at least are killed right when you buy em. I am still not sure where the fish is coming from. They look too big to be from the rivers and the ocean in almost a whole 24 hours by train due south.
It’s getting late and I need to call my Dad,
I hope your all well
D
posted by davidlang at 12:15 AM
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