Khiva

The train from Bukhara to Khiva is classified as a sleeper train and it is set up as one. Many trains to Khiva originate in Tashkent and go through Samarkand, Bukhara and a few other places along the way making the journey quite long, so sleeper cars it is. Now, this is not the Orient Express, this is the Uzbek Soviet Style Express, and it was awesome, in a grungy kind of way.

Khiva is a small fortress town and every travel blog mentions that two days are enough here. They were right. It is up to you because like anywhere you can always settle in and get comfortable. The rooms are cheap, as is the food so it is up to you what your plans are. Personally, it is time for me to move on from Uzbekistan. I have Khiva and then north to Nukus. I need to start following the weather if I want to accomplish a few of my travel goals, including time in Mongolia, where winter arrives fast and furious.

When I got off the train I found my hostel was an easy 30 minute walk and even in the mid afternoon heat I would be fine. What I found was a ghost town. I do not know if it was the heat and everyone was hiding inside, or that it really is "off season" here, but it was a combination of both. If Bukhara was a Jason Bourne movie, then Khiva was "On the Beach" without the nuclear fallout.

Khiva Train Station

Entrance to the Walled City

South Gate

My room was at the Caravan Hotel and it was excellent. $20 a night, private bathroom (a backpacker luxury), hot water, cold AC and a fridge near the entrance to store drinks and snacks. As a bonus, a huge water cooler with cups. To that point, I see other people fill 1.5 litre bottles of water from the free water coolers at these hotels. A litre of water here costs about 60 cents but I guess it is an entitlement on your 20 dollar room with a very good free breakfast. Humans suck. If you had to take a guess, you would be correct as to where they are usually from. 

I had a few nice experiences here. The walled city was great, the place was steeped in history. The lighting at night created a great feeling much like Bukhara, but Khiva was smaller and less busy, a bit more intimate if you will. I had a cool moment when I sat in the little main square watching the local kids kick soccer balls around at about 9:00 a night. I young girl and her father and sister walked up to me and dad pointed at the girl who started talking. She wanted to practice her English which was fine. She was 14, her name was Sara, he sister was Zuhra and her father's name I could not understand. She would translate in between him and I, or we would just chat while dad hung out. Again, taking photos is never my first priority, but a photo here would have been cool. We talked for about an hour about random typical things. The subject was not important, but building her confidence was. 

It is funny. I usually just grab street food, or fast food but every once in a while I need a good meal. This time it was at the Terrasa Cafe, in the heart of the square. It was considered one of the more expensive places to eat but whatever, it was time. The view was exceptional ( look at the website), while not busy the ambiance was nice. I had a huge Kabob meal, with veggies and fries and a couple of pints.. this set me back $22, yes that's right. That was my splurge, $22 freaking dollars. That my children is how it is possible to have extended travel. All told, I will be in Uzbekistan for about 2.5 weeks. With trains, hotels, food, beer, entrance fees and other costs, I will spend just over $600 for my time here. That includes a $40, 2.5 hour cab ride north to Nukus, but that is for another post. 

What did you spend $600 on in the past 2.5 weeks?

Bukhara

The train ride from Samarkand to Bukhara was easy enough. When booking through the Uzbek Train app, you are two ticket options, which I missed because I honestly don't pay attention. The high speed modern fast train and the cheaper slow train with limited or no AC. Guess which one I booked because I can be dumb more times than not. My train was to travel for five hours, compared to the two hours for the modern beauty. The price difference was about $10. Train travel, like everything in Uzbekistan is very reasonable, much like the Yandex taxi rides. Now to add to the agony of a train with NO AC on a blistering hot summer day, my train ran two hours longer than it posted. Good Times.

I did go for a bit of a wander and I found the restaurant car that was bathing in cool air from a strong AC. There were a few decent bits of food but it was mostly sugar. I shared this small victory with the French couple and their two kids (I am guessing 10 and 8) who I was chatting and suffering with. They were on a one year world tour and said that experienced worse on a bus ride in Thailand. Even the kids had this epic attitude. I LOVE LOVE LOVE that they took their kids out of school and traveled the world for a year with them. That is top notch parenting in my books. I did not have the heart to take photos inside the train, but I can tell you that after my disastrous Pakistani bus trip, this was a walk in the park. We all went to the restaurant car and dig into soft drinks, water, snickers bars and other assorted garbage, bathing in the luxury of AC as if we were the Rockefellers.

I said goodbye and goodluck to my 2 hour French friends and prepared myself for the "Taxi Tout Olympics." Normally I will chat, be friendly, and just politely say "No Thank You" as I keep walking. This time however I had my game face on. It was a long day, I was amped up on sugar and was really not in the mood. The first guy grabbed my shoulder and I pulled away easy enough. The second dude started following me and kept telling me that "Yandex does not work in Bukhara.". Let me be clear. My Yandex fare was 25000 Som, which is less than $3. This guy wanted to charge me 40000 Som, an outrageous $4.25. It becomes a game of sorts and  yes,I realize the absurdity of it. 

I found my Yandex after running the gauntlet then relaxed and enjoyed the 20 minute ride to my hostel. That is when the  real fun began. I knew I was going to have a problem finding my hotel because of the name, The Best cheap guest house Muxta-Sham Karavansaray.  When I finally did arrive the actual name of the hotel is Muhtasham Hotel and it includes signage on the main street and in the alleyway. The alley way is a just a term for a one lane very tight street the weaves through buildings and neighbourhoods. Keep reading..

The Yandex driver dropped me off at the side of the main road that I was hoped was near to my destination. I put the actual address into the app and not the dumbass name. It turned out that "yes" it was a short walk but naturally I headed off in the wrong direction because I forget that Google GPS and me are in a constant "state of war". Now, under normal circumstances and in normal towns you can "forrest gump" your way around with the tools that you have at your disposal and be successful. In Bukhara you need a bit more "Jenny" and a lot less "Forrest". 

Entering a neighbourhood off the main street suddenly becomes a scene from James Bond or Jason Bourne. The road is narrow and winds tightly coming upon hidden intersections while enclosed by buildings on both sides. Each turn gets more complex, although random signs for "other hotels" appear on walls and on overhangs. I walked with confidence as the address I entered had me roll up to a nice place with an older couple out front. "How nice, a welcoming committee, they must have seen me."

I said hello and asked if this was the hostel which resulted in confused and puzzled looks from them as an "Ah Shit" thought passed through my brain. I show them the reservation and the old guy and his wife go back for forth, which brought the neighbour over. Old guy then yelled into the house and out bounced a smiling teenage girl who must have been their granddaughter. After the Uzbek madness calmed a bit, I explained to her that I had a reservation for a hotel which led me to their house and I showed her the booking page on my phone. Without hesitating she found the phone number and called the place. This was my kind of "Alpha Girl. As it turns out I was not far off and "yes" I did put the address in wrong. She hung up and happily explained where I needed to go. I picked up my pack was about to leave when she "Alphaed Up" again and said "No, he will take you". I turn to see the old dude pulling an ebike from his garage.

I am sorry I did not take any photos or even ask the names of my saviours but the daughter was all smiles and proud of her accomplishment. We jumped aboard the e-Bike and set off,  two fat guys and a rucksack. This was no Easy Rider moment that's for sure.

Every Bar has one, the poor bugger

Off we went, bouncing down his street like a couple of National Lampoon International Spies. Cars would slowly make an appearance now and then and we had to pull over and let it squeeze by. When we finally hit a main street my Old Guy decides to stop at his friends shop. He turned to me to get off the bike and said "You like beer?" He did not wait for an answer and I just followed him into the shop like a lemming. The two guys in the shop greeted us and opened 4 beer 1 litre bottles of beer and mine disappeared rather quickly, so I bought a second round. Each was 30,000 som, about $3.25 and  I am not sure if it was because I was dehydrated but the second one was just as cold and delicious as the first. They boys were talking to each other and it was obvious it was about my situation with the hostel. The owner of the bar then called the hostel and told them to come and get me because it is their fault that the directions were so poor. I loved these old guys. Sure enough, 5 minutes later a younger guys enters the shop and joins us. Now there are five of us sitting around a large table drinking cold Uzbek beer. The only other guy in the place was asleep at the table beside us. He was finally chased out. Their broken English was great and the young guy was fluent enough to understand easily. My E-Bike guy said no to a third and pointed to his bike (loved that) and the hostel worker and I walked the 5 minutes, down two narrow alleys to the hostel. I checked in, tossed my bag into my room, took a shower and went back to the shop and sat in front of a floor fan and had a few more beer. That my friends is how I was introduced to Bukhara Uzbekistan. 

Bukhara at night

Night Views

People come out at night, hide from the sun in the day

I met a Japanese American Girl name ChinaTse but she said to call her Summer, so I did. We hung out a bit in Samarkand and made a point to meet up in Bukhara. It was nice to hang with someone for a couple of days and we met the next morning for coffee. It was going to be hot so we scrambled to see some of the historical sites before we went our separate ways to enjoy our hotels AC. We met again in the early evening and went to The Plov, for dinner, where we had Plov for dinner. I had plov quite a few times in Afghanistan but it does not compare to the Plov of Uzbekistan. Then it was off to the Mosques and Madrassas for the night show. It did not disappoint. Bukhara is 2500 years old, making it one of the oldest cities in Central Asia. Once the sun went down the people came out, in droves. I found the entire place quite mystical at night and made sure to sit and take in the environment I was a part of and the History that surrounded me. Our friend Genghis Khan conquered much of Uzbekistan in the early 13th Century and destroyed much of Bukhara and Samarkand, as was his calling card, plus Bukhara was a major stop on the Ancient Silk Road.

Uzbekistan boasts a rich history, with evidence of human settlement dating back to the Paleolithic period. It's been a crossroads of civilizations, influenced by Persian, Greek, Arab, Turkic, and Mongol empires. Key periods include the ancient Bactrian and Khorezmian kingdoms, the Samanid and Timurid empires, and the more recent Russian and Soviet eras, culminating in its independence in 1991.-- Wiki

Yes, it is a Lada

This one was a bit older, and I liked it better

If you consider that Uzbekistan finally achieved independence in 1991, that is only a short 34 years ago. You know that many of the older dudes walking around were conscripted and served in the Soviet Army and may have fought in Afghanistan of all places. When you get outside the major tourist areas and walk the old neighbourhoods, you can see the remains of Soviet Style apartment blocks and parks, large ornate government offices and failing infrastructure. You also see Babushkas (Grandmothers) everywhere. These are ladies that have seen some shit in their live, but are always ready with a wave and a smile.

Samarkand

After a brief reprieve, the Central Asia summer heat has returned. As I continue to travel Eastward, the limitations and restrictions ease up. Uzbekistan is not a thriving drinking culture and is predominantly Muslim, but I think that being under the Soviet Yolk for so many years has definitely influence what is acceptable here. There is no way that hoards of Russians, including the military were going to live in a dry society. That being said, finding a cheap pint or bottle of very decent beer is easy and I am trying to make up for lost time, like a donkey. I searched out the Sam Craft pub, which was a short 10 minute sprint from Registan Square and found the draft to be cold and delicious.

The Hostel Muborak which is very simple, but for $12 a night it was clean, safe and has hot water. In this searing heat, AC is critical but my room was oddly cool(ish) at night with the two fans helping me sleep. I am sitting in a nice courtyard under a canopy having grabbed some snacks from the little tuck shop attached to the place. I had to remember that for every place I stay at in Uzbekistan I need the owners to give me a "registration certificate" that I am to present to customs/immigration when I leave. This was mandatory years ago and travellers could get fined large sums without them. Now it is more relaxed but gathering them covers you "just in case you get a beaurocrat trying to make an name for themselves."  The strangest question that I get from people is "How many languages do you speak in Canada?"  This has nothing to do with their understanding of Canadian History or Politics, they are curious if Canadians speak more than one language. I guess it is because most Uzbeks speak a minimum of 2, Uzbek and Russian, but it is more common that they speak English and maybe Kazak. Yes, most people here speak three languages at a minimum. That is not uncommon around the globe. We in the West really are hicks at times.

Samarkand is in the heart of the Ancient Silk Road and it professes to be the Cultural Capital of the Islamic World. The only reference I have to it was when I was living in Xi'an China, which was the starting point of the Ancient Silk Road in the East. There was a sculpture in one of the town squares with the names of many of the places that the Silk Road meandered through. Samarkand sounded so foreign and distant, almost as if it did not exist. Well exist it does, and here I sit.

This Sculpture in Xi'an China has the silk road cities inscribed, including Samarkand

I have a confession. I am not "overwhelmed" or "awed" by these blue domes Mosques, Madrassas and Mausoleums any more. Much like the "Old Towns Squares" in Europe, it can become a bit of a "Meh" moment. That is all well and good because it happens to everyone. It is just a sign that it is time to change it up a bit. Let me backtrack a bit, what I have seen here is outstanding and hiring a guide to walk me through a few places was worth the $5. The more I learn about Amir Timur I put him in the Bad Ass hall of fame with Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great and  Hannibal Barca (seriously, elephants through the Alps dude?)

The centre of it all here in Samarkan is Registan Square and it does not disappoint. The three Madrasahs of the Registan are the Ulugh Beg Madrasah (1417–1420), the Sher-Dor Madrasah (1619–1636), and the Tilya-Kori Madrasah (1646–1660). Madrasah is an Arabic term meaning school. -- Wiki

There is a nightly light and graphics show that explains the history of the world and Samarkands place in it. I was lucky enough to see it on a night when it was in English. It is free but naturally you have to be aware of all the sketchy little bastards running around selling trinkets and I suspect looking for pickpocketing opportunities. More dangerous is the Phone picture/videos obsessed tourist who does not watch where they are going as they try to get the "best shot?". There was a guy beside me who stared through his phone for the entire 30 minutes of the show, never once seeing it in reality. Our society is doomed. 

Registan Square is considered the focal point of the town square if you will. Surrounded by many historical sites, Mosques, Madrassas and Mausoleums. They are all within an easy walk from my hostel plus this being the "off season" the tourist masses are not to be found. Even the light show was not at busy as the photos show. I spent three days here and tried to get off the beaten track a bit. First I found a massage Spa, yes it was Thai, and not it was not one of those. What I did get was a two hour message for the equivalent of $75, and it was excellent.

Second I went searching for an old Soviet style sports arena just because it was out there somewhere. I could have take a 10 minute cab ride but NOPE, I decided to talk the hour in the mid afternoon heat. There were many shops along the way so I found water, shade and snacks. The place was underwhelming but it was truly Soviet and considering the condition it was still in use. The old guy watching the gate let me in to take a few photos without being prompted, which was cool. That was until I turned to leave and found the gate closed and my guy was nowhere to be found. Into the russian army I go!  The gate was unlocked but it was fun to play "what the fuck is going to happen to me now?" games in my head.

Soviet built sports stadium

Soviet built sports stadium

Soviet built sports stadium

Samarkand can also be the jumping off point into Tajikistan. The border is a short 45 minute shared taxi away. Then once you cross the border it is a short shared taxi ride to Panjakent Tajikistan. That town itself is close to the trailhead for the Fan Mountains, famous for its 5 lakes hike. That is my plan when I work myself back around this country. For now it is nice to settle into a place that is older than the Christian Bible and where the people are a mix of modern friendly to Russian stoicism. Either way, it is an easy country to get around and the dollar stretches far which is cool because I am just beginning.

My Travel Photos

 

April 6th - Present

I am currently travelling in Uzbekistan
My next stop is Kazakstan

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A Shift In Gears

The past two months have been interesting as well as eye opening in a multitude of ways. There have been restrictions with the freedoms and choices that I am accustomed to. I knew it going it, but it does tend to wear you down at times. Simple things like a good cup of coffee, a cold beer or having a conversation who was not terrified because I was not a Muslim, when there was a woman to talk to. I am not talking about "hitting on some young hottie with hopeful gains". I am  talking about being around dudes "All the freaking time" who are so used to living in a womanless social environment, that when a woman does enter their area (usually a tourist), they shut down and basically flee. What a life. 

Nonetheless, due to the debacle in Pakistan, I managed to turn a 2 hour direct flight from Islamabad to Tashkent into a 9 hour journey from Islamabad to Tashkent via Dubai and now here I sit in Samarkand Uzbekistan, right in the heart of the Ancient Silk Road. 

I was happy to see this welcome sign

I was advised to plan my Uzbek trip the best I could and book all my tickets online well beforehand as they do sell out fast, so that is what I did. They were cheap enough, anywhere between $10 and $15 but 6 of them suddenly started to add up. My personal victory? I landed in Tashkent late on June 30th, checked in and then found an Irish pub. I got up early and the hostel provided a real nice breakfast buffet. I ordered an Uber who dropped me off in front on an old Soviet Style train station with 15 minutes to spare. I showed my ticket to a few workers who directed me to my train and I was in seat 40 on car number 8 with 10 minutes to spare. A small victory that put me back on track. I will take it.

Tashkent Train Station

Canadians are visa exempt into Uzbek. The only questions I was asked was about my Afghanistan visa. The border/immigration guy wanted to know what it was like to visit there. He stamped my passport, my rucksack was one of the first to arrive and my airport pickup with there with his sign Kun Weiss, close enough. I was warned by my hostel that the taxi drivers will grab you as you leave the airport, some might even grab your legs. Yes, they were all over me, except the leg thing. My pickup was $10US and yes I could have found a taxi for about $3 to $4 but get me out of there. It was the best $10 I could have spent. The driver knew no English, I spoke no Uzbek or Russian so the ride was silent but not uncomfortable. I was checked into the Al Arda Avenue and out the door in about 30 minutes, to the Irish Pub for my first beer in 52 days. It was called Sarbast, an unfiltered Lager, and it was so good I had three. Total cost for three pints, 105,000 som, about $11.50 Canadian and I was told this was an expensive place. It was nice, but it was Russians trying way too hard to run an Irish Pub.

Fast forward to an uneventful three hour train ride from Tashkent to Samarkand. Remember, I now have no earbuds so I could not even zone out to the best of my musical listening ability. The touts and taxi drivers were just as aggressive as the airport in Tashkent, but manageable. I had ordered an Yandex (Uber) and almost every taxi driver told me that the app does not work and the taxi will not arrive, even as I was getting in my Yandex. The crazy thing is that the Yandex rides are cheap, I mean super cheap. It was just over $2 and the ride from the Train Station to my hostel was about 30 minutes with traffic. So, Yandex it is, although everything I want to see and do in Samarkand it within walking distance from what I saw on Google Maps. 

First things first, and much like Tashkent, I know there is a pub and a cold beer somewhere near by, and I am going to find it.

Cancelled, Late, Missed

Travel can bring such joy and the experiences you have along the way, hopefully gives you a better understanding of the world we live in. Great natural wonders, delicious food and drink, incredible people and random acts of kindness are all a part of this incredible addiction. You do your research, read about local scams, download all your apps (yes I actually said that), choice your places and away you go. What you don't do is plan for the unexpected because you can't, especially when the unexpected spirals out of control to the point you just need to ride it like a wave and hope you hit the beach softly.

I had a flight booked with Pakistan International Airlines (PIA) on June 27th for the one hour flight from Gilgit to Islamabad. Then the next day I was to fly from Islamabad to Tashkent in Uzbekistan. The plan was to fly to Islamabad, grab a hotel by the airport and catch my flight the next day. Well planned but boy oh boy did my plans go to shit.

The Gilgit Airport, I have not idea why is exists

The Medina 2 Hotel, my last night in Gilgit

First, I was warned by more than one person online that PIA was notorious for cancelling flights out of Gilgit. The local hotel owners who I guess wanted to reassure me that everything was OK in Pakistan sold me that I would have no problems. I ignored it all but somewhere in the back of my mind I had a "but what if" thought creeping into my consciousness.

I moved to the Median 2 hotel, which was a 10 minute walk to the Gilgit Airport. It was a nice enough place with a lush green courtyard and breakfast was free and not a buffet. The downside was there was no AC, only a fan and it was hot so sleeping became almost impossible. I finally got out of bed at 8:00 and was cleaning myself up when the tell tale "ping" came across my phone. It was an email as when I read the send I just knew what these fuckers were about to tell me. 

"We are sorry but due to technical difficulties your flight from Gilgit to Islamabad is cancelled and there are no further flights. Please contact PIA for any assistance." 

FUCK! How did I not take the constant talk on the Redditt and various travel blogs I interact with seriously. Hoping for the best is not a realistic option you big donkey! FUCK. Well I did have an option. I took the overnight bus to Gilgit from Islamabad a few weeks before so I jumped on the NATCO website hoping there were buses leaving today and that there were seats available. Boom, three buses, leaving at Noon, Three and Five. The bus I took to Gilgit leat at 3PM and arrived at 6:15 AM, just over 15 hours which was the standard. Using this logic I thought that the noon bus was to early and arriving in Islamabad at 3AM would just suck, so I grabbed a seat on the 3:00 PM flight, using my new found naive logic that I would arrive on time. FUCK!

What I was expecting as I had on my trip to Gilgit

What I got.

NATCO buses are all modern, clean and comfortable, so are the many competitors that deliver tourists and locals along this route. I figure to settle in, get a bit of sleep and then catch a cab to the airport, clean myself up and be drinking a beer in Tashkent for dinner...ummm NOPE. First the bus the pulled up was a battered and bruised 30 year old relic of a bygone era. Some windows were busted and when I entered there smell of travel in a bus that has not been cleaning in 30 years hits me right away. I walked to seat 33, kicking old water and coke bottles that were tossed in the aisle, to find some douchebag sitting in my seat. Now first of all, the bus driver was helpful and very accommodating. When he saw me talking to the guy in my seat, who would not move, he argued with him but Nope, not moving. The driver turned to me and said "This is Pakistan" and walked off. So be it, the seats were so small that it did not matter, I was not going to sleep much. FUCK!

We were I thought fully loaded and ready to go. There were four seats behind my row that were raised and nobody was sitting there. So I moved back a seat and that was another bad move. It was hard and when I realized that these seats were over the engine my seat had already been filled by some new guy. Another dude got on an sat beside me along the window and three young kids climbed in and filled in the two seats beside me. I was angry, uncomfortable but ready to get going. I knew what this trip was all about and I just wanted to get to Islamabad. The young guys were funny and taking photos of me, as they do, and were getting off 2 hours down the road near Fairy Meadows, a national park that was on my list of places to visit, but maybe next time. We roarded down the road and I felt every bump in the road. There was NO way this bus had been serviced, especially the shocks and suspension in at least 10 years, if not more. I also knew the the road we will be travelling, the Karakoram heading south was under construction and rough, very very rough going. It was the exact opposite of the completed Northern section that took me to the China Border. I was in for a back breaking bumping ride. FUCK!

There are security stops along the route and after a couple hours the young lads got off the bus freeing up the seats beside me. The guy next to me on the window side moved fast, hopping over me and into one of the seats. Another guy got on and sat beside him, window seat, leaving me a free seat beside me, or did it. We moved 50 metres to the next checkpoint to allow a guy who was getting off duty onto the bus. Yes he was fat and yes he was heading towards the seat beside me. He poured into the tiny seat, did his best manspread and settled in with a smile. "What is your country?" These guys have zero social graces or sense of their surroundings but they are friendly. One guy in front of us decide to play music, without headphone naturally and a guy opposite him started watching a movie, no headphones. FUCK!

Sunrise was 430 and I used that time to look at google maps for our location. We were not even close to Mansehra let alone Abbottabad, which were hours away from Islamabad. I started to get antsy. We finally got off the bumpy and banged up Karakoram and onto the what they call the motorway, which is essentially a well maintained highway that leads into Islamabad. I am doing the math in my head. Ok, it is 530 in the morning, my flight leaves at 11:50. If we get to Islamabad by 9 I can still get to the airport by 930, get cleaned up and all is good. I settled into the now snoring fat guy beside me, my spirits a bit lifted after a brutal night of bouncing around and no sleep, plus having to shift in my seat every 5 minutes and battling for an bit of comfort. I stared straight ahead down the aisle onto the wide open highway. The driver was clipping along at a nice pace for 30 minutes or so, and then it happened. A police blockade, on the fucking highway!! Come on universe, a detour. FUCK!

This was no little off ramp detour. We drove through so many small villages along the route that there was no speed possible. The busses started lining up like an old fashioned convoy, at one time I counted 9 of them from various companies and two very nice NATCO buses, come on man really. We went up one side of a mountain and down another and since that was so fun, we did it again. 6:00 became 7:00 and I am playing "time math" in my head. Ok, the latest I can check in is one hour before the flight leaves, so that means 10:50. If we get to Islamabad at 10 I can still make it by 10:30. I was watching google maps and the onramp to the motorway was getting close. Ok we can do this, lets go go go! We were closing in to the motorway when all the buses started slowing down and turning. They are turning the wrong way! The guy beside me turns to me and says "we eat and drink tea now'. We are stopping for breakfast? We have been on this bus for 16 hours and you are hungry and need tea. What about getting to the destination. Sure enough we pull into a bus yard and everyone gets out and to a person, including my seat mate, we all just stood around staring at each other. Nobody was eating, nobody was drinking tea. It was just mild acceptance to everything. Tick Tock Tick Tock. FUCK!

It was now closing in on 7:30 and we were still over an hour away, and we we just on the outskirts of Mansehra. My mind was playing time roulette. I scratched my head in thought and I felt a scab at the top of my scalp. I picked at it and my fingers were bloody. Damn it, this is from when I banged my head on the dresser of my hotel room the other day, as you do. There was no blood at the time but I guess it scabbed up. Now of course I scratch it and with a bit of blood on my hand my bus seat neighbors start to get excited. They all start speaking quickly in Urdu and one says to me he will tell the bus driver. I had to physically stop him, which freaked him out. These are some crazy overreacting people. We are still three hours from Islamabad and I am refusing to accept defeat. I have not slept, my body is sore as hell, the guy beside me is starting to ripen and my head is bleeding, while I notice row by row everyone starts looking at me as if I had the plague. Then I farted and almost shit my pants. FUCK!

At 8:30 we enter the outskirts of Abbottabad. Although I am still doing mental gymnastics with the time in my now healed head my hope takes one more hit to and finally gets knocked out. Our magic bus starts to slow and pulls over onto the shoulder. The driver gets out while every eye on the bus peers out the window. He comes back into the bus, walked towards the back of the bus and pulls out what looks to be a large lug wrench and a 5 foot metal pole, I guess to use as leverage. Do we have a flat tire? As he walks out a long procession of male passengers follow him. He bangs around on the left side of the bus and the remained of the passengers head out. He starts banging on the right side of the bus and I peek out and there is a crowd standing around watching him do whatever it is he is doing. The thirty minutes parked on the side of the road killed any hope that I had to make it to the Islamabad Airport on time. I was defeated, but the good news is, all the passengers returned to the bus like a "Band of Brothers" having watched the driver do whatever it was that he did. It was a good thing they stood around and watched. FUCK!

If we stand around it looks like we are helping

Our tale is not over as there is one more event that happened which just tied this journey into a nice neat little bow. We were turning into a NATCO station on the outskirts of Islamabad which worked for me. I did not really want to have to deal with the Rawalpindi bus station, the second largest in the world. I was happy to jump out here, catch an In Drive (Uber) and get to the hotel that I had booked while pondering my next move. We were about 25 metres from the station, pulling in when the bus choked, heaved, hissed and stalled. This sumbitch ran out of gas. That was not the best of it. Our Band of Brother got out and pushed the bus the last few metres into the gas station that was located at the NATCO station. I SHIT YOU NOT! I stole the picture below but you get the idea. Just picture an older beat up bus and add about 10 more dudes. Yup, that is how my 19 hours bus journey ended. We ran out of freak gas. FUCK!

I grabbed this photo from Alamy, but you get the idea.

I had had enough and needed to get off this bus. I grabbed my rucksack, which I luckily brought onto the bus with me instead of storing it underneath in the cargo areas. I jumped off the bus and the hot Islamabad air felt like a spring breeze. This is when I saw the boys lining up to push the bus. The driver came running over very concerned that I was leaving. He was honestly concerned as he had been the entire trip. Checking on me at rest stops and making sure I was ok. I lied to him each and every time. I told him I needed to get to the airport (another lie, my plane was on the tarmac without me) and he accepted that. I ordered an In Drive (uber) and the first driver would be there in 5 minutes, then 4, 3, 2..driver cancelled. Holy shit, let's do this again and yes the second driver cancelled. Screw it, I am going to sleep at the gas station. The third guy showed up, drove me the 45 minutes to "Top City", a new area being built up around the airport. I paid him his 1100 Rupees ($5.50), checked into my hotel expecting it to be just a flea bag shithole. It was not. The Ambrina Hotel is a brand new hotel surrounded by to many construction projects to count. There are a scattering of shops that are open as well as a grocery store. I counted 11 new banks when we passed security into Top City. That tells you something. 

Everything we shiny and new and I was greeted cheerfully by the gun toting security guard, then the hotel manager and the front desk crew. It felt like a nice warm hug at the end of a long brutal 24 hours. I will tell you that none of this is embellished, this is a true account of what happened.

With a bit of post traumatic perspective I recounted that my chubby seat mate plus 6 others around me and we all suffered together and at times each of them asked me if I was doing ok. One guy who spoke English well said to me, "this bus is shit". That was funny. We shared water, snacks and the pain of the journey. Each of them made sure to come shake my hand as I stood on the side of the road waiting for my cab. Finally and the most important point. If you are on the road long enough, sometimes nothing is going to go to plan, no matter what. Heck that goes for everyday life but when you are in a foreign country with absolutely no control of the situation and you realize that you have been defeated, you just need to "ride that wave in baby" and hope the beach landing is soft. In my case it was. 

What I have learned along the way is in a situation such as this, as insane as it had become it was beyond my control so there is no reason to freak out. Nobody cares that I had a flight to catch, or that my ass hurt, or I was tired, and I really wanted a beer, nobody cared at all. I had problems to take care of so take care of them, one at a time. I am not being glib but have been through worse while on the road and lived to tell the tale. Sure it is going to cost me a few $$ for a new flight, so the solution is not to do a few other things that I had planned to strike a balance, and that is how I try to keep sane when my world is anything but.

I snapped the photo above at the Gilgit bus terminal as I waited for my bus trip to the great beyond. I wondered how terrible things were for him to be sitting there so incredibly dejected. It was just over 19 hours later and I felt all of his pain and anguish. The difference is I ended up sleeping in a huge comfortable bed in a room with strong AC. I can not say the same for him. Perspective is everything and there is always a solution.

The China Border

 "Let's go to the China border!" That was the first thing out of my mouth when asked what I wanted to do while travelling in Hunza. I kept reading that it takes anywhere from 6 to 8 hours to get there from Hunza. My curiosity was peaked when I met a Polish dude staying at my hotel who said that he was going the border next day from Hunza, with no stop in Sost. He was a cool old dude who ran a tour company in Poland and was getting a feel for Pakistan. 

We had a different plan. We were going to drive to Sost, which is a small village near the boarder but offers a bit of a "free trade zone" of Chinese products. Smuggling and bribery is huge in this area and the tell tale brand new, huge, black with smoked widowed SUVs passing us along the way. "We do not bother those people" said camera guy quite seriously.

First things first, we were going to stop for a swim and a kayak to break up the trip at Passu Lake. We started out early enough, following the Karakoram north towards Passu, a route we had taken a few days before. Passing Attabad lake and plowing through the Chinese made tunnels at breakneck speed, my "hash stoned" driver was in his element. As usual we made a few random stops at bridges, waterfalls and fruit stands for cherries (my choice). The turn off for the lake was just past the stop where vehicles stop to take photos of the Welcome to Passu sign (we did it) and the Passu Mountain Cones. 

The lake was clear, cold and refreshing and yes, there were only dudes swimming. Most of them did not take off their shirt, which is a huge Muslim thing but whatever. My shirt came off and yes, the stares I received from the woman who were hanging around told me that I was going to hell for my tattoos. The dudes were just dudes and wanted to swim. As with everywhere I have been, eventually we all start talking and once the ice is broken there is handshakes, laughs and questions. After a good swim it was off to the kayaks for an hour. 

A bit of kayaking

Driver doing his hippy thing

Time for post swim/kayak tea with view from the terrace

Onto Sost, the gateway for all traffic crossing the Chinese-Pakistan border. Of all the towns I have been to in Pakistan, this is the only one that felt really sketchy. I did figure that if there was a town where I could get a beer, this would be the place. In Ahad's youthful enthusiasm he was on a mission to help. After he bought 10 packs of cigarettes from a street vendor, which he told me were "so very cheap in Sost" he started asking around for beer. We went to a street vendor selling Kabobs who told him he did not have beer but something better, strong "Hunza water." They disappeared between two buildings then down an alley and out of sight. They were gone about 20 minutes and both camera man and Emmett were getting nervous, this was the first time I saw that in them as they were always happen and open for fun. Ahad finally returned with about a half a litre of clear white liquid in a bottle in his back pocket. It smelt like cherries and from what I have learned is that "strong Hunza water" is made from any fruit into alcohol. I wanted no part of it for obvious reasons.

The next morning it was China Border day. We had a breakfast of Yak burgers and headed north towards the Khunjerab National Park which takes us to our destination. Now, here we go again with the tourist pricing. Chinese and Pakistan nationals pay nothing where as I had to pay the equivalent of $40. Of course I was going to pay, and I feel luck to get into the park for that price. I came all this way and would have paid $100 if I had to. Regardless, just beware of tourist pricing in Pakistan and plan for it accordingly.

Sketch Sost

Free Trade Zone

Random stop for a photo shoot

We passed through the chaotic entrance to the National park and I had to show my passport and travel visa to three different guys who really had no interest but faked it. These guys were all about the smugglers and bribes. A tourist was a hindrance on that cash cow. The faster I was pushed across the entrance it would be back to business for them. 

The border was another 45 minutes into the park, naturally up winding mountain roads, but these roads were maintained. Paved and clean with assorted work crews along the way doing what needed to be done. This is an important road and they were going to keep it safe. We climbed the last mountain and there it was in the distance, the border between China and Pakistan. Boasting the highest ATM in the world, this is the highest land border in the world. I could feel the altitude and moved a bit slower than my normal shuffle.

Worlds highest working ATM

Great camera filter that removes all the people

At the border, both flags flying

It was a carnival like atmosphere. There were quite a few people, don't let the camera filter fool ya, although it is a very cool filter. Just standing at the border taking photos and waving to the Chinese Nationals not more than 50 metres away was a really happy moment. Remember, this is an international border. I am not showing you the miles of heavy barbed wire climbing along the ground and up the mountain, nor the scattered guard towers in the distance. Regardless it was a fun atmosphere and a highlight of my travels to date.

The barbed wire was very real

Tourist Photo

Looking back from the border

We had planned to spend about 45 minutes here due to the altitude but fuck that, and we ended up hanging around for about two hours taking photos, making videos and just having a good time. Then we packed up and drove back to Hunza, we needed to beat the sunset (which I was all for). I did not want my Mario Cart Driver blasting down the Karakoram at night. It took about 4 hours but to repeat myself, the scenery was outstanding. The Pakistani music was blaring as we blasted back to Hunza passing all the towns that I had planned on staying in. This part of my trip would never have happened if it were not for my Random Choice to walk into that restaurant in Hunza. 

However the universe has a wake to keep things balanced and I was about to experience going from a massive high to a massive low in just a few days.

Glacier Day

The Hopper Glacier, also known as Baltar Glacier, is a significant attraction in Hunza Valley, specifically within the Nagar Valley. It's a large, impressive glacier known for its accessibility, making it a popular spot for glacier viewing and photography. The glacier is situated in the Hopar Valley, which is about 10 km from Nagar Khas, the former capital of Nagar. - Wiki

The ride to the Hopper Valley was a spirited 90 minutes and during this day it appeared that the driver was gaining confidence in testing the laws of physics. Surrounded by soaring mountains and travelling through lush valleys all the while following the raging Hunza river made this trip incredible beautiful. 

The closer we got to the glacier, the narrower the roads became, while the few small bridges we narrow enough for one car only, and that did create a few interesting moments of "I am going first" with cars coming in the other direction. To that point, that is a huge cultural thing here, if I had not mentioned it before, the need to be first for everything. There is no queueing, no polite "after you" or simple common courtesy however where you learn to stand your ground the perpetration is quick to back off. It is not that they are being rude, it is just they do not know any better for "This is Pakistan."

We arrived and parked among the many vehicles parked haphazardly in what I guess was the designated parking area. I got out of the car and was blown away by the immediate view as I looked up the Hopper Valley, following the glacier to its start at the Bawalter Peak. I was more in awe at the sheer cliff face of the Bawalter Peak that was covered in ice and snow (it is over 7000M/23000 feet). The glacier creeped up to the base of the cliff face and then fell into the valley floor and extended to 28 KM long. It is considered the fastest moving glacier in the world, moving an average of 4 to 5 inches per day. The glacier was also black in appearance because of all the rock and sediment it carries, but that changed a bit when we hiked down to it. My three amigo traveling partners could not get their phones and cameras out fast enough. "We are going to create so much data today", by data I knew that Abad meant content.

Baltar Glacier in it's beautiful glory

The road along the Hunza River

My first tepid steps on Baltar Glacier

The hike down was a bit tricky but easy enough. The trails were well marked and as I looked ahead I could see families on the glacier. Then we watched as a group of well motivate and well equipped young guys rushed down the trails before us while we were having out "getting ready tea."  They were sure footed and reached the glacier fairly quickly and then went the opposite direction of those hanging out and started to "cross the glacier". I don't know much about glaciers but what I do know is they are moving, shifting and filled with crevices that you do not return from. The average depth on the Bualtar Glacier is 100 metres (300 feet) but there are areas where it is up to 900 metres (2900 feet). You do not return from that, but off they went anyways. We lost sight of them as we ventured down and it appeared they were half way across.

If you have done any hiking and for myself anyways, the downward hike is always harder than going up hill. It wreaks havoc on my knees but to no surprise the universe delivered to me a hiking stick. One of the families were on their way up, and the daughter gave me one of the two that she had. I just had to drop it off at the shop when I was done with it. The one major thing I have learned over the years is not to become "too dependent" on it. You have to use it much like a ski pole and just tap it to keep your balance and lean into it when necessary. If you use it as a crutch you will get yourself in to trouble somewhere along the way.

The face of Bawalter Peak that leads into Baltar Glacier

The Glacier is Moving!

The ice blocks are bigger than you think they are

The first thing you notice when you climb on the glacier from the rocky path is how quiet everything is. That is until you hear the glacier talk to you with the tell tale signs of ice cracking. Then there are the sudden small movements of stones that cause mini avalanches right on the boulder you are standing on as the the ice melts below you. I am talking pebbles and nothing to be concerned about and it was happening everywhere. "The glacier is moving" became our calling card.

We spent the better part of 2 hours wandering around and creating content, including more promotional videos that I thought possible. It was good fun and all for a good cause because the boys were trying to promote their tour companies all the while trying to show me a good time. 

Gemstone Vendors

Cold Fresh Glacier Water

The climb out was easy enough and we were rewarded with cold clean glacier water. We had yet another cup of tea, which I am starting to just accept as a part of everything here, much like stopping for a pint after some activity back home. The pint is better. There were some nice viewing platforms as well as a rustic terrace from which we drank our tea. The cool part of this location is that it is a trail head for two and three day treks into the interior for viewing of K2, Gasherbrum I (Hidden Peak), Broad Peak, and Gasherbrum II, a few other 8000 metre peaks in the area. There was a small and very simple hut with two rooms that rented out for people to get a good night's sleep and an early start. This intrigued me and I have made a mental note. I did research about doing the K2 base camp trek which priced itself out at about $3000. This was more of a local experience and lasted 3 days and not 10. 

There were some gemstone tables setup with other assorted trinkets. I ended up buying a travel bracelet with blue unpolished aquamarine and a few peace signs for about $5. Aquamarine is my birthstone so it seemed logical to pick it up at the source. All in all, this was a very good day as it took my appreciation for the beauty of Northern Pakistan to a whole new level. I am just scratching the surface of this place but now I understand how other people talk about coming here for a couple of weeks and then end up extending their 90 day visas. I think you can add me to that list if I was to focus on Pakistan being my only stop on this trip.