Dr Khorog
The method for finding accomodation in Khorog is slightly eccentric. The lonely planet, as I discovered, does not get you very far. No. The best way to find somewhere to stay is with binoculars.
The victim of Mike's rock in a paper-sissors-stone decider, I went off to do the foot work, while they gaurded the bags. I returned an hour later to find them surounded by gleeful girls offering "sleep" - which we soon established was actually accomodation. Some heightened touristy behaviour - using the binoculars to examine routes to a peak opposite - had attracted some attention. At $3 each a night, they beat anything I had found with ease.
We went to take the bus and hopped on to the very same vehicle conquered by the Canadians in Murghab, riding for 1 somani (30c) to a Pamiri Villa on the edge of town. We lugged our bags up to the gate at the foot of the mountain seen through the binoculars and were shown inside. They gustured to a room requesting, "see the boss." With the clean, panelled, richly carpeted, hall and the lack of men, it seemed like some sort of cult.
Luckly it wasn't, all their excitement was due to the fact we are their first paying customers and the the boss is actually a retired 82-year-old Mathematics professor from Edgabaston; summering in Khorog; born in Pakistan; four masters degrees; doctors, accontants, dentists and daughters for decendants; turned down from Cambridge for having too many letters after his name already; a former representative of the Aga Khan in the Pamirs; and with some connection to Gilgit and the Hunza royal family in Pakistan. He has lots to say, but little to hear and it seems, quite annoyingly, that he follows our route, in some respect, every year. Despite all this, he has been extremely welcoming and has helped arrange a two day side trip to the Wakhan valley for us that starts tomorrow, for which we hope things continue on the surreal strain our journey has developed.
The victim of Mike's rock in a paper-sissors-stone decider, I went off to do the foot work, while they gaurded the bags. I returned an hour later to find them surounded by gleeful girls offering "sleep" - which we soon established was actually accomodation. Some heightened touristy behaviour - using the binoculars to examine routes to a peak opposite - had attracted some attention. At $3 each a night, they beat anything I had found with ease.
We went to take the bus and hopped on to the very same vehicle conquered by the Canadians in Murghab, riding for 1 somani (30c) to a Pamiri Villa on the edge of town. We lugged our bags up to the gate at the foot of the mountain seen through the binoculars and were shown inside. They gustured to a room requesting, "see the boss." With the clean, panelled, richly carpeted, hall and the lack of men, it seemed like some sort of cult.
Luckly it wasn't, all their excitement was due to the fact we are their first paying customers and the the boss is actually a retired 82-year-old Mathematics professor from Edgabaston; summering in Khorog; born in Pakistan; four masters degrees; doctors, accontants, dentists and daughters for decendants; turned down from Cambridge for having too many letters after his name already; a former representative of the Aga Khan in the Pamirs; and with some connection to Gilgit and the Hunza royal family in Pakistan. He has lots to say, but little to hear and it seems, quite annoyingly, that he follows our route, in some respect, every year. Despite all this, he has been extremely welcoming and has helped arrange a two day side trip to the Wakhan valley for us that starts tomorrow, for which we hope things continue on the surreal strain our journey has developed.
posted by Pete @ 3:40 pm
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