Tag: Pakistan

Lahore

Lahore

Lahore, Pakistan – April, 29, 2015

Disclaimer – before viewing the photographs in this blog, please understand that the clicking shutter was in a vehicle traveling at up to 80 miles per hour. Please forgive the less than sharp images.

A construction barrier at speed.

Today I had a business trip to Lahore, Pakistan. Several chimneys along the side of the road caught my eye. I guess their height averaged 100 feet. Some very dark black smoke spewed out of several of the chimneys. They appeared to be a key component in the manufacturing, by hand, of bricks. The farther south we traveled, the more apparent it became that brick construction was the norm.

A small town.
Brick structures beside the highway.

The drive was very scenic, especially on the approach to the Salt Range Mountains. The pass over the Salt Range was spectacular. The downhill side of the pass toward Lahore had a seven percent grade complete with numerous “Emergency Climb” areas. Emergency Climb is the local lingo for a runaway truck ramp. Instead of sand, the slopes had a filling of roughly fist-sized rocks.

A turn on a mountain pass.
A rock formation.

The road was similar to roads in the U.S. There were several truck weigh-stations along the route. A unique feature was the signs on virtually every overpass. Each sign trumpeted a safety slogan such as:

  • Reduce Speed in Fog and Rain Slow down, Life is Precious Check Gauges Frequently Check Tyre Pressure
  • Better Late than Never
  • Fatigue Causes Accident – Take Rest
  • Replace Worn Out Tyre to Avoid Fatal Accident

It probably would do no harm to have similar signs posted along the highways in the U.S.

For roughly two-thirds of the trip, either side of the road had acres and acres of wheat; there must have been hundreds of thousands of acres of grain. The amazing part was the number of people in the fields harvesting the wheat by hand. We only saw four or five combines, but other than those, the wheat harvest was a manual effort. I am sure the work was not only backbreaking but also fatiguing. The temperature was right around 100 degrees Fahrenheit during most of our trip. It reminded me of a live-action van Gogh painting.

One of the many wheat fields.

In comparison to the wheat harvest to the U.S., it is odd that the harvest in Pakistan was well underway in April. The harvest in the U.S. usually does not begin until about June. That may indicate there are two crops per year in Pakistan; I am just not sure.
It is difficult to describe the number of motorcycles on the road in Lahore, but there must be tens of thousands. They dart around the other vehicles like flies. In addition to bikes, there are numerous three-wheeled carts. I know them as tuk-tuks. Those vehicles are popular in India too. The number of them in Lahore is probably due in part to the fact that the India border is only about 29 kilometers (18 miles) from Lahore.

A tuk-tuk in Lahore.
Traffic at a roundabout on the outskirts of Lahore.
A motorcyclist in Lahore.
Another tuk-tuk driver.
No parking…supposedly…

We passed Canal Bank Road. It gets its name from the canal in the middle of this major thoroughfare. Our driver referred to the channel as the “poor mans’ swimming pool.” We did see several people swimming in the muddy water as we drove by the canal.
Lahore has much more of the hustle and bustle feeling than Islamabad. That is no doubt due to the population being about five times that of Islamabad. Lahore’s population is somewhere around 10,000,000 people.
When we left, there was considerably more northbound traffic than what we encountered on the trip to Lahore. Many of the jingle trucks hauled cattle in the bed of the vehicle. Some entrepreneurs rigged makeshift beds above the livestock for human passengers. In addition to the jingle trucks, the smaller vehicles with a rear cargo bed had people mixed with either goats or sheep. I hope their rides were short.
On the return trip, while crossing the Salt Range Mountains, we encountered a rainstorm. With the combination of rain and altitude, the thermometer plummeted to 18 degrees Celsius (64 degrees Fahrenheit), down from 39 (102 degrees Fahrenheit).  Unfortunately, once we were off the pass, the temperature jumped back up.

Hills in the distance.
A small town by a river.
Red rocks.
A hill in the distance.
A jingle truck.
A mesa in the distance.
A mesa with communication towers.
A jingle truck II.
A mesa in the distance with a jingle truck just coming into the frame.
A jingle truck III.
A jingle truck IV.
An opportunity for lunch.
The Colonel is Pakistan!
Books for sale along the side of the road.
HFC must stand for Halal Fried Chicken.
A closer view of HFC.
A customized tuk-tuk.
Murree

Murree

Murree, Pakistan – April 11, 2015

Leslie and I had a blast today. Our persistence trying to go on a Community Liaison Officer (CLO) trip paid off with our selection to participate in the journey to Murree, Pakistan.

Ready for the adventure!

Murree began as a British cantonment in the middle of the 19th century. At some point during its time under British rule, a brewery began operating in Murree under the name Murree Brewery. Today, that brewing operation is now located in Rawalpindi, a large suburb of Islamabad. Since this is the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, there are no liquor stores. One can only obtain Murree beer from one of the five-star hotels in Islamabad. Not long after our trip, I did get some of the beer. I thought it tasted a little too hoppy and bitter. However, that is a story for another time.
We arrived at the Embassy in time to have some breakfast in the American Club. In addition to breakfast, we also ordered lunch to go, since the flyer for the trip noted a picnic lunch.With our lunches in hand, we walked outside the Club to the waiting vehicles. We picked a car at random, hopped inside, and soon departed.
Ultimately, the road reduced to just two lanes and began to gain altitude. A river flowed rapidly alongside the way. Unfortunately, I have not been able to track down the name of the river. Regardless, it was a beautiful valley. It reminded me of portions of the Colorado River west of Vail, Colorado.
Frequently we saw long, narrow, stone buildings. Some were one-story buildings, while others were two-story. The CLO Assistant happened to be riding in our vehicle. He informed us those were chicken farms. Unlike chicken farms in the United States, I did not detect any foul (pun intended) odors as we passed.
We continued to gain altitude into a heavily forested area. At times, the forest was broken on either side of the road by a small village, with shops and homes built very close to the road edge. As we passed through their lives, the villagers stared at us, no doubt trying to figure out just who was traveling through their town.

Passing the many small businesses.
A pedestrian walking past the Mobilezone business.
Some businesses on the outskirts of Murree.
The Shangrila Resort Hotel.
A roadside business.

Periodically we encountered switchback turns. Many were very tight turns. I do not recall seeing any as sharp in the mountains of Colorado. In some instances, the corners had a divider to keep traffic traveling in the opposite direction from leaving their lane.
The mountainsides became increasingly steep. Looking across the valley, one could see that much of the mountainsides are stepped, no doubt to help control erosion. The CLO assistant shared that those opposite mountainsides were fully forested when he was a child. Now they stand barren, victims of commercial logging.
A little more than an hour outside of Islamabad, we reached our destination, Pindi Point. The attraction to the area is the Pindi Point chairlift. A roundtrip ticket on the chairlift cost 350 Rupees, about $3.50. At that time of day, the only other people present consisted of a handful of chairlift workers.

At the bottom of the chairlift was a sign comparing the Pindi Point chairlift with two others in Pakistan. Some of the points trumpeted facts such as no breakdown or accidents in 24 years; it can operate in winds of up to 120 km per hour (not with me on it); and its gearbox is at least twice as big as the others.

A sign welcoming people to Murree City.
The lower point of the Pindi Point chairlift.
Technical comparison of the Pindi Point chairlift and three others in Pakistan.
Leslie had a good time with some of our mates on the trip.

I watched as two people from our group got onto the chair in front of Leslie and me. I decided that if we were there in the winter and if we had had skies, getting on would have been easy. When the chair came around the wheel, we both plopped down. The chair dipped a little, making it hard for Leslie to pick up her legs. One of her legs caught slightly under the chair. Luckily, she was not injured, but it did cause her some pain.
The Pindi Point chairlift is only intended for sightseeing. There is not an associated ski area there.
The ride up the side of the mountain was beautiful but steep. At about the midway point, a worker was standing at a platform. It did not seem to be a chance encounter, but rather, the man’s job seemed to be to stand there. I do not know why he was there. However, he was courteous, smiling, and waving as we greeted him in Urdu.

A worker alongside the chairlift.
Nearing the top of the chairlift.

Near the top, we saw two young men lounging on a blanket under the chairlift. They both enthusiastically waved and shouted as we traveled overhead.

Waving at us as the chairlift glides above.

At the top, just like chairlifts in the United States, we had to get off on the run. One of the workers there helped Leslie. She just barely kept from falling. That, on top of the beginning leg drama, had her shaken. That is when we noticed we had several dozen stairs to climb to reach the road at the top. It took a little time, but we finally made it to the way. I openly mused as to why the builders of this beautiful chairlift had stopped a couple of hundred feet below the road.
The top of the stairs emptied into an arcade type area. There were people selling food and water, while others operated booths with games. Another group held onto several white horses. The area bustled with tourists.

Some of the carnival-like booths at the top of the chairlift.

Some of the housing we encountered appeared abandoned, but in fact, people did live in them. There was a real feeling of expeditionary living in many places.

A rustic home.
A small shop outside a home.

The elevation was about 7,500 feet. That made for some very nice, comfortable weather. The road circles the top of the mountain, dropping slightly into the town of Murree. At one point, there was an overlook. Murree is only about 30 miles from the Pakistan/India border. From the overlook, we could see India and snow-capped mountains.

Another view of the snow-capped mountains.
Looking toward India.
Looking northeast toward the beginnings of the Himalayan Range. These peaks are in India.
The Clifton Lodge.
A family walking toward Murree.
A rug on the roof…
A green driveway.
A building with some character.

Mickey Mouse characters were abundant. One, in particular, pointed the way to the Regency Hotel to passers-by looking for a place to stay.

Welcome to the Murree Regency Hotel!

At the lowest point of the road, we were in a small commercial area. The CLO asked if anyone wanted to do some shopping. Of course, everyone jumped at the chance. Leslie and several others stopped in a little trinket store.
Just across from the store were five or six white horses. I imagine they were there for rent; however, we did not partake. Regardless, I am not sure I could have gotten on the horse anyway. Even if I had gotten on, based on the size of the saddle, some 80 percent of my caboose would have been without support. While I stood and watched, one of the wranglers went to work on the shoe of one of the horses, filing some problems away.

In the town of Murree.
Some of the businesses in Murree.
A crowd at the gift shop.
Our fearless leader for the day!
A man leading one of the many white horses in Murree.
Repairing a horseshoe.
The Bilal Mosque in Murree.

Departing the commercial area, we began the gradual climb along the road back to the chairlift stairs. We walked by a street cafe. I do not know what they were cooking, but it sure smelled good. For fear of stomach issues, I kept my course true and did not stop.

A restaurant on the side of the road.

A little further along the way, we encountered another group of horses. They seemed to be everywhere.  After that, we saw a man that was roasting what looked like nuts and beans. He also had some popcorn for sale. It was an interesting photo opportunity, but again, we dared not partake. We did not want to take a chance of occupying the bathroom for the next two straight days.

Horses in front of the Hotel Breeze.
One of the white horses.
A man riding one of the white horses.
Looking back toward town.
A local real estate office.
A shop along the road. This man was cooking some sort of lentils.
Maybe taking an order…
The man cooking the lentils was right at the side of the road.
On the phone again.
The valley below Murree.

Just around the corner from the cooking vendor, I spotted another rugged-looking home. A cute little girl about five or six years old stepped out of the house to try to determine just what was passing by her home.

A little girl at the door to a house.

Nearing the stairs, I saw a man selling baskets. They were all handmade from local bark and twigs. I bought one that is a good size for bread or fruit. It cost a whopping $2. In the same area, some of the people stopped to partake in the various games of chance. They reminded me of games at local fairs in the United States. They seem so simple, yet one very rarely wins any of the tantalizing prizes on display.

A basket vendor.
The basket vendor taking the time to read the newspaper.

We encountered another likeness of Mickey Mouse. This time he was on the door of a brightly decorated truck, near the Pakistan flag.  The Urdu phrase near his head translated to “Heart Heart Pakistan.”

Hello Mickey!

When we made it back to the top of the stairs, Leslie told the tour organizer of the troubles she encountered with the chairlift on the way up. She asked if the chairlift could slow down when we got on and off the chair.  Climbing down the stairs, we saw a sign that had an awful lot of Urdu and then one word in English, “Rescue.” That made me a little nervous, but such is the life of someone illiterate in the local dialect.

The Lucky Draw booth.
Preparing to descend to the top of the chairlift.
The attendant at a game of chance.
Nearing the top of the chairlift area.
Other than “rescue,” I am not sure what the sign states.

Much to our surprise, when we arrived at the chairlift, it stood still. Thankfully, the operators granted Leslie’s request. We got on and waited for the trip down to begin. It was just as beautiful as the trip up, but this time, we understood just how steep it was. After clearing the platform, we saw the two young men on the blanket again. They seemed just as excited to see us this time as the last. Another 100 meters or so down from them, we saw three children under the lift.
They asked us for candy or money. If my hands had been free, I probably would have tossed them some money, but, between my camera, backpack, and newly acquired basket, I could not manage anything else.

Three children hoping for some sort of handouts.
Three children II.
The steep way back down.
A view across the valley.
Mountains in the distance.
A truck below the chairlift.
Some more Urdu signs.

At the base, the chairlift stopped again so we could get off. Once everyone was down, we walked to a small home about 100 meters from the chairlift.  We sat with the others in the dining room and ate the lunch we purchased earlier.

The bottom of the chairlift.
Passing by the snack bar.
Wall hangings in the dining area at the Pindi Point Chairlift.

Our next stop was Kashmir Point. Our stop there called for a train ride. The engine of the “train” is a tractor made to look like a train engine.
When we arrived, the small square was bustling with people. A young boy with a hawk on a stick immediately caught our eye. It is the type of bird we see soaring in the Islamabad area daily. I am sure one could have taken a photo with him and the hawk for a fee. I might have done so if our group had not been moving so quickly to the waiting train.

Boy with a hawk.
Boy with a hawk at Kashmir Point.

The train, pulling two coaches, stopped. Our group boarded the second coach. Shortly after that, the train departed. Sitting directly in front of us, at the rear of the first coach, was the cutest little girl. She kept looking back to try to figure out just who we were.

The young girl taking her seat.
A young girl looking back at us.
Smile
Women walking by the Kashmir Point train.
Women walking past the Kashmir Point train.
View from Kashmir Point.

The train traveled along a road that circled the top of the mountain. The area, known as Kashmir Point, gets its name based on the fact one can see the Kashmir area from there.  The total trip only took about 15 minutes.

On our descent from Kashmir Point, we saw hundreds of Kashmir shawls and blankets displayed along the roadside, usually at turns in the road.  They were beautiful, but we did not stop.

The Jamia Masjid Masoomia at Kashmir Point.
The Hot Spot.
An A-frame structure.
The Hotel Bluemoon.
Goodbye!
A motorcycle rides past a display of Kashmir shawls.
The vendor at a Kashmir shawl display.
Yet another Kashmir shawl display.
Driving through town.
Pedestrians at the roadside.
Curious onlookers.

Soon, though we were still in the mountains, we transitioned to a four-lane divided highway toward Islamabad. We arrived there when the local schools were letting out.  It was easy to see that the children all had to wear uniforms.

Schoolgirls waiting for transportation home.
A group of schoolgirls.
A highway sign.
The rear of a jingle truck.
Some hillside homes.

Along the highway, I found the roadside signs interesting. They provide the same information as warning signs in the United States, but with a flair for English. I saw signs such as “dead slow” warning of a sharp curve; “speed hump”; “speed camera ahead” warning of radar; and a “falling rock” sign.  The falling rock sign seemed necessary as we did see a large rock-slide in the opposite lane.

An Urdu road sign.
Dead slow, dangerous curve ahead, drive cautiously.
Speed hump.
A safety sign along the road.
A speed camera ahead.
Highway warning signs.
Falling rock!
Another speed camera ahead.

We also passed a Rescue station. I could only wonder if it was the same station referred to by the sign at the top of the chairlift. Lastly, we saw a sign that we thought depicted Smokey, the Bear. It was a similar message with a different character, Murree the Bear.

A rescue station.
Murree the Bear signs.
A parked jingle truck.
A man walking from a roadside vendor.
Pedestrians at the roadside.
A rock slide closed one lane on the opposite side of the highway.
If one stops, one may be able to get a Pepsi here.
Two women walking along the road.
A pedestrian bridge.
A new development.
A jingle truck.
Directional signs.
Auto parts stores and goats.
Walking by a mosque in the distance.
Men attending an event at Millan Shadi Hall.
More jingle trucks.
A jingle truck traveling the opposite direction.
An abandoned car.
Pedestrians walking by several small businesses.
The closer one gets to Islamabad, the heavier the traffic gets.
Even the small trucks are jingle trucks.
The girls’ campus of Dar-E-Arqam Schools in Bharakhu.
An electric shop in the background.
On the phone.
The Shikarpuri Bakery.
The only store sign I can read is for the bakery.
A multitude of businesses.
A small yellow car.
A business center under construction.
Multiple small businesses.
A small jingle truck used by the locals in a similar fashion to a bus.
One can get deals in medicine and cosmetics at Gulzar Pharmacy.
The Khan Medical Centre & Maternity Home.
Leopards Courier.

We ended up at home in the mid-afternoon. All of the roses in the median of 7th Avenue brightened the end of the trip. We truly valued the experience because the security situation here does not allow for much sightseeing.

Roses along 7th Avenue in Islamabad.
Riding the horse in front of the Breeze Hotel.