Rain in Rawalpindi
Islamabad/Rawalpindi, Pakistan.
Local time 9pm (GMT+5)
Flight BA129 landed at Islamabad International at 5:40 with Andy and I still on board. However, with two other flights deciding to do the same, the Interpol-database-empowered boarder staff of one was overwhelmed and it was two hours before we were finally reunited with our check-in luggage. During this time we already began to see the friendly Pakistani conversationalist at work; a lengthy discussion - on Orwell, castles, cricket, trekking - with a Chicago communications engineer born in Pakistan.
The airport exit was crowded with prospective welcome committees sheltering from the unanticipated downpour. We soon found ours in the form of a taxi driver with a brother in Birmingham. It was time for inaugural traffic experience. Horn cacophony, beggar at window, motor rickshaw, minibus, reverse, forward, brake, accelerate - and all before we left the car park.
Our initial destination, the New Kamran Hotel, was tucked into the boy racer stall district. The buildings upper floors blazoned with publicity boards - ENGLISH SHOES "buy one, get one free". The room is simple, but high-ceilinged and made reminiscent of the opening scene in Apocalypse Now by a large fan spinning above us as we drift in and out of jet lag and culture shock. Our morning excursions in search of breakfast, tourist offices, water, travellers cheque exchange and all the tourist trappings blurred so that I don't know how often we left and returned to the room. After a morning tramping the streets chased by taxi horns, we plucked up the courage to take the 12 km bounce of a bus ride to Islamabad.
Islamabad is the purpose built capital of Pakistan (still under construction) of the school of Brasilia, Canberra and Washington and is set out in sectors like the squares of a battleship board. It has the grandeur of wide avenues and plenty of palacial official buildings, but lacks the general bustle, grit and pong-range we got from Rawalpindi in the morning. Sorting the formalities of money and lunch, we made for the grand mosque on the outskirts. Not knowing quite what to expect we found a serene atmosphere of a stadium capacity modern building with some vague Sydney opera house styling set against a backdrop of hills (our first sign of any diversion from the flat) - an impressive sight/site.
I'm now ensconced in an computer booth and feeling quite tired. Our introduction to Pakistan has, thus far, found it very hospitable with an incredibly welcoming populace ready to greet and enter discussion to the best of their English speaking ability. That said, our Urdu is still in need of much practice.
Tomorrow and Sunday promise more exploration, further afield, before we head north for Gilgit on Monday.
Next expected post: Sunday 17 th July
Local time 9pm (GMT+5)
Flight BA129 landed at Islamabad International at 5:40 with Andy and I still on board. However, with two other flights deciding to do the same, the Interpol-database-empowered boarder staff of one was overwhelmed and it was two hours before we were finally reunited with our check-in luggage. During this time we already began to see the friendly Pakistani conversationalist at work; a lengthy discussion - on Orwell, castles, cricket, trekking - with a Chicago communications engineer born in Pakistan.
The airport exit was crowded with prospective welcome committees sheltering from the unanticipated downpour. We soon found ours in the form of a taxi driver with a brother in Birmingham. It was time for inaugural traffic experience. Horn cacophony, beggar at window, motor rickshaw, minibus, reverse, forward, brake, accelerate - and all before we left the car park.
Our initial destination, the New Kamran Hotel, was tucked into the boy racer stall district. The buildings upper floors blazoned with publicity boards - ENGLISH SHOES "buy one, get one free". The room is simple, but high-ceilinged and made reminiscent of the opening scene in Apocalypse Now by a large fan spinning above us as we drift in and out of jet lag and culture shock. Our morning excursions in search of breakfast, tourist offices, water, travellers cheque exchange and all the tourist trappings blurred so that I don't know how often we left and returned to the room. After a morning tramping the streets chased by taxi horns, we plucked up the courage to take the 12 km bounce of a bus ride to Islamabad.
Islamabad is the purpose built capital of Pakistan (still under construction) of the school of Brasilia, Canberra and Washington and is set out in sectors like the squares of a battleship board. It has the grandeur of wide avenues and plenty of palacial official buildings, but lacks the general bustle, grit and pong-range we got from Rawalpindi in the morning. Sorting the formalities of money and lunch, we made for the grand mosque on the outskirts. Not knowing quite what to expect we found a serene atmosphere of a stadium capacity modern building with some vague Sydney opera house styling set against a backdrop of hills (our first sign of any diversion from the flat) - an impressive sight/site.
I'm now ensconced in an computer booth and feeling quite tired. Our introduction to Pakistan has, thus far, found it very hospitable with an incredibly welcoming populace ready to greet and enter discussion to the best of their English speaking ability. That said, our Urdu is still in need of much practice.
Tomorrow and Sunday promise more exploration, further afield, before we head north for Gilgit on Monday.
Next expected post: Sunday 17 th July
posted by Pete @ 4:07 pm
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