Chello Pakistan

Chello Pakistan is probably the best known joke in India. It means "lets go to Pakistan" in Hindi. The "joke" is that all Indians think that if they go to Pakistan their throats will be cut as soon as they step over the boarder, such is the mutual fear of each other. Since I was traveling way off the normal tourist trail each place I stopped for a break was a new adventure and new possibilities to make friends. Knowing about India's best loved joke has proven to be very useful to break the sea of flat staring faces into smiling toothed grins. Once the ice is broken the stream of questions flows. I have now just about got used to the trail of predictable questions. Here is an example.
I ride into a petrol station to ask for directions, soon enough word goes around and the best English speaker is drafted in to help communicate.
Locals: "What is your country"
Me: "England"
Locals: "England! A good country. I would like to go there".
Me: "Yes it's a good country (I'm not taking you)".
Locals: "Lots of money in England"
Me: "Yes but it's very expensive"
Locals: "What is your good name?"
Me: "Craig"
Locals: "Clive"?
Me: "Cr-aaaa-ig"
Locals: "Graggeee"
Me: "Yes that's right"
Locals: "Where are you going"?
Me: Pakistan
Locals: (puzzled looks around the place). "Pakistan? Why"?
Me: "To see what it's like"
Then comes the question they all really want to know
Locals: "Are you married"?
Me: "No I'm not married"
Locals: "No? Why not"?
Me: "I'll get married next year".
Locals: " do you like?" (making griding gestures with hips)
Me: "Yes I like that". (Indian men usually have the sexual maturity of 13year old English school boys).
Locals: "Are you lonely" (meaning alone).
Me: "Yes I travel alone".
Locals: "Why, where are your family and friends".
Me: "I make new friend".
Locals: " How many brothers and sisters etc etc

When I arrived in Delhi I planned to stay only for the night and head off to Chandigarh the next morning but come morning my body had different ideas. I stayed one day in Delhi and a second night. It's funny how comfortable you can be when the place is familiar. Come the next morning I was delayed 30mins by the "major" the owner of Majors Den, the hotel I stayed at. The owner is a retired major in the Indian army and he took great pleasure in telling me all the great things that the British Occupation did for his country. They united the country, when we left there was over 400 princely states, and god knows how many before that time. We brought the judiciary system and built the railways. It reminded me of the sketch from Monty Pythons Life of Brian. He did however give me pretty good directions to get out of New Delhi and towards National Highway One, the road north to Chandigarh. However, once I had set off I got lost in the maze of road works, they were expanding the Delhi Metro lines and there was total chaos. It took me nearly 3hrs to drive what should have been 15km and I in fact drove 75KM until I finally got myself on NH1. The traffic was pretty thin for it was Ghandis birthday and was a national government holiday. I had lost time to make up and NH1 was just the place to do it. Miles and miles of perfectly made motor-way, three lanes, driving perfection. Just as I was letting my concentration guard down a tractor came down the fast lane of my side of the road. Then a few KM further on an old lady was just sat in the middle lane, then a man walking his 20 buffalo, then a public bus driving down the wrong way. *sigh* India. I made it into Chandigarh about 6pm and found a hotel. Now this is a special place in India, it is the ONLY planned city. It's the capital of two neighboring states. The roads are grid pattern with wide tree lined boulevards. However, it has the draw back of having no heart or centre. The buildings are grey and drab and missing all the characteristic charm of the normal India architecture. It's like some strange human transplant experimentation gone wrong. Nevertheless, I did find a good mechanic who striped down my engine and cleaned my cylinder head and my carburetor, removing all the nasty crap that was causing my bike to cut out from the dirty kerosene mixed petrol I had bought so far on my journey. The next day the drive to Amritsar was easy, only 310KM this time. I arrived in good time and parked my bike in the Golden Temple free underground car-park and headed for the free foreigners dormitory. I really like the Golden Temple it's one of my favorite places in all of India. I made a visit to one of India's memorials and one of the British forces darkest days. A memorial where hundreds fof unarmed civilians made a protest and were gunned down as punishment. The bullet holes can still be seen. The next morning I headed for the boarder of Pakistan. Crossing out of India was pretty easy it only took about 1.5hrs with lots of chatting and more questions to why I was not married. I told them that people in England don't get married until they are 30, one wise customs officer informed me I was already 4 years late. Smarty pants. On finally arriving at the Pakistani side I was welcomed and directed to the immigration office where I went trough the same process in reverse. Having Dr Talbot printed on my Carnet (Import and Export document for my bike) really did help. I was introduced to half the staff and after lots of hand shaking and telling them I will marry next year I was told I was a very honorable man and there was no need to check my bags for beer and other alcohol. Finally I was in Pakistan. At first I thought it was not much different from India, but then I noticed less women on the streets and that the streets themselves where cleaner, but to the untrained eye it would certainly look the same with the same driving rules and same road side shops. It was only about 30km into Lahore down a new road. I stopped at a petrol station to ask for directions where I met my first Pakistani. Another rider of a Yamaha RX took interest in my bike and introduced himself and ask where I was going, I showed him my rough map to where I intended to stay. We soon set off, me following him and his wife on his bike. He drove right into the centre of town taking me directly to the street where my hotel was. I was amazed by the friendliness and hospitality. It was not unique, each person I met showed an equal amount of friendliness and less "gorping" than in India. Lahore, although not the government capital certainly is the cultural capital of Pakistan. The streets are wide and clean(ish). I checked in a dorm at the Regal Internet-Inn and was soon chatting with the other foreigners. I was given a guide book from an Chinese-American couple who had come overland through central asia and a map of Pakistan from a French guy and his polish girlfriend who had cycled from France. The travelers in Pakistan are of a different breed to the ego-tourist in India. They are more down to earth, less arty-farty. Not one of them was wearing stupid clown(ass) pants. No smug self appreciated smile of pretend enlightenment as you find in the clones that follow the well trodden tourist path of the Indian transport hubs. As the evening fell I could finally eat something. I had been unaware until I tied to find something to eat earlier that I had arrived right in the middle of the holy month of Ramadan. A month of daylight fasting. After a bite to eat the hotel owner took us to see what he called Sufi Night. We arrived and walked up the crowded steps of bustling men into a court yard that had been built around painted ancient trees and sat on the floor with hundreds of men.











All in local dress as two musicians drummed out Islamic mystical beats in time with each other. As the night went on and the smoking of substances was passed around the chanting got more dramatic and devotional singing to Allah got more passionate. At about 1am 5 or 6 men made a circle and started dancing in what appeared to be a crazy random way, they were all in a trance like mystical Islamic dance with arms waving and heads shaking rapidly from side to side. One of the dancers was armless, you can just make him out in purple in the video. The people were chanting and singing all around, hundreds of them hanging of walls and from trees, the atmosphere was undescribly (yes I know that's not really a word) electric and we had the best seats. After 4hrs of arse numbing sitting we made our way out down the steps past the hundreds of people cramming outside trying to get in to what could only be described as the Pakistani equivalent to a Friday night disco. It was truly an experience I'll not be forgetting any time soon. Later I found out that we had been honored by the most famous of sync drummers in all of Lahore. Two brothers, and amazingly one of them born completely deaf. His father taught him how to recognize rytheme by tapping his fingers on his sons back.
After todays walking around Lahore and my trip to one of the main mosques I'll be heading north to the city of Peshawar and hopefully to the Khyber pass on the boarder with Afghanistan. That reminds me. I have never wanted to or have been comfortable with visiting a mosque before. However, once in the court yard I was greeted with warm smiles and friendly handshakes and met a man who was living there for religious study for 15days. He showed me around and I was encouraged to take some photos. I think now that Muslims in a Muslim country are so relaxed and confident and only want to show hospitality. It makes a big difference if you don't feel threatened and isolated as a minority population is. It says in the Holy Koran that all strangers are gifts from God and should be looked after even with your own life, this is lived up to. Apparently it says this in the Bible, but how many people follow this I wonder? I have been invited to the homes of several people already if I come back this way I will certainly make a few calls.
As promised here is a video of me trying to sing Queens "I want to break free".