Back to Pakistan
April 6, 2006
It was time to go back to Pakistan. I had decided to cut short my stay in Afghanistan by about four days. I found that to live and travel safely in Afghanistan requires at least one of two things: money or connections. Having been in the country fewer than two weeks I was only just beginning to make connections. As for money, I did not have a large budget and Afghanistan was proving too expensive for me. Although Afghanistan is a developing country, unusual circumstances (i.e. war-ravaged country and lots of Western cash) have distorted costs. In Kabul I had been paying between $35 to $50 a night for my room. In neighboring Pakistan I would expect to pay, at most, between $6 to $10 a night for similar accommodations. Some of what you pay for in Kabul is reasonable; that extra cost buys you 24-hour security guards, diesel generators (that Kabul city electricity is none too reliable), and Western style toilets. Partly though the market is inflated by the large number of Western aid-workers needing accommodation and their aid-agency cash. At the guest house I stayed at I was the only patron paying for my room out of my own pocket. I had not really budgeted enough for Afghanistan. I expected costs to be higher than a typical developing country, but not by as much as I was spending.
I would have liked to visit the Panjshir Valley and Bamiyan before I left, but to do so in safety was beyond my means. Sure for less than $10 I could take a bus to Bamiyan, but I felt I had already pushed my luck enough taking the bus from Mazar. The only way to fly to Bamiyan was on a UN plane, but I didn’t know who to talk to about that. I looked into hiring a car for a day trip to the Panjshir. Hiring a car, driver, and guard from a reputable logistics company I would have run me between $120 to $150 a day. The Panjshir Valley is supposed to be beautiful, but will not feature in my novel, so I decided it was not worth the cost. Bamiyan very likely will be in my novel, so missing that was a more significant regret.
I had an afternoon flight back to Pakistan, so I had time enough for lunch at my favorite restaurant in Kabul. I never found out the name, neither the employees nor the owner spoke English. It was one of the zillion anonymous kebab shops in Kabul, but the quality was good. It was popular with the locals too; it was always packed at lunch. I have grumbled at the prices in Kabul, but food was not expensive at the kebab shops. My lunch of mantu (meat dumpling in yogurt sauce), bread, and tea was only 65 Afghani, that’s a buck-thirty.
My flight back was on Pakistan International Airlines. This is another local airline that has earned a bad reputation and a host of unflattering nicknames. My favorite was: Pakistan, Insha’Allah (Pakistan, God willing). Despite PIA’s reputation and amusing nicknames I had a fine flight on an older, but perfectly ok 737. During the flight it was great to look out my window and see the snowy Hindu Kush pass below eventually softening into hills and finally flattening into the vast plains and rolling hills of South Asia.
Back in Islamabad, Pakistan I caught a cab to the Daewoo bus station. From past experience of Islamabad, I did not want to waste anymore time there so I was making straight for the city Lahore. The Daewoo busses are the best of the many private bus companies operating in Pakistan. On the bus I sat next to an officer of the Pakistan Army. I was tired and really did not want to talk to anyone, but this being Pakistan if you are by yourself someone is going to start talking to you. At least this guy had some interesting stories. He had been a UN peacekeeper in Bosnia and had a lot of interesting stories from that time. When he found out I had been in Afghanistan he kept asking me if I was in the Army and if I was hunting for Taliban and Osama. I was flattered that anyone would think I could be in the Special Forces.
It was late, close to midnight when I rolled into Lahore. It’s a huge city of 10 million souls. Good thing I had called ahead about my accommodation. The Regale Internet Inn came highly recommended. They were full for the night, but the owner said he had another place he could put me up in. When my cab dropped me off on the Mall near Regal Chowk [street] Malik the Regale owner and his son were waiting for me with their car. Turns out the other place I could stay was Malik’s house. Malik lived a good ways away from the Regale, in a nicer area of the city. He had a guest bedroom with its own bathroom. I felt a little weird staying at the family home of someone I had just met 10 minutes before, but I was tired and was happy to call it a night.
It was time to go back to Pakistan. I had decided to cut short my stay in Afghanistan by about four days. I found that to live and travel safely in Afghanistan requires at least one of two things: money or connections. Having been in the country fewer than two weeks I was only just beginning to make connections. As for money, I did not have a large budget and Afghanistan was proving too expensive for me. Although Afghanistan is a developing country, unusual circumstances (i.e. war-ravaged country and lots of Western cash) have distorted costs. In Kabul I had been paying between $35 to $50 a night for my room. In neighboring Pakistan I would expect to pay, at most, between $6 to $10 a night for similar accommodations. Some of what you pay for in Kabul is reasonable; that extra cost buys you 24-hour security guards, diesel generators (that Kabul city electricity is none too reliable), and Western style toilets. Partly though the market is inflated by the large number of Western aid-workers needing accommodation and their aid-agency cash. At the guest house I stayed at I was the only patron paying for my room out of my own pocket. I had not really budgeted enough for Afghanistan. I expected costs to be higher than a typical developing country, but not by as much as I was spending.
I would have liked to visit the Panjshir Valley and Bamiyan before I left, but to do so in safety was beyond my means. Sure for less than $10 I could take a bus to Bamiyan, but I felt I had already pushed my luck enough taking the bus from Mazar. The only way to fly to Bamiyan was on a UN plane, but I didn’t know who to talk to about that. I looked into hiring a car for a day trip to the Panjshir. Hiring a car, driver, and guard from a reputable logistics company I would have run me between $120 to $150 a day. The Panjshir Valley is supposed to be beautiful, but will not feature in my novel, so I decided it was not worth the cost. Bamiyan very likely will be in my novel, so missing that was a more significant regret.
I had an afternoon flight back to Pakistan, so I had time enough for lunch at my favorite restaurant in Kabul. I never found out the name, neither the employees nor the owner spoke English. It was one of the zillion anonymous kebab shops in Kabul, but the quality was good. It was popular with the locals too; it was always packed at lunch. I have grumbled at the prices in Kabul, but food was not expensive at the kebab shops. My lunch of mantu (meat dumpling in yogurt sauce), bread, and tea was only 65 Afghani, that’s a buck-thirty.
My flight back was on Pakistan International Airlines. This is another local airline that has earned a bad reputation and a host of unflattering nicknames. My favorite was: Pakistan, Insha’Allah (Pakistan, God willing). Despite PIA’s reputation and amusing nicknames I had a fine flight on an older, but perfectly ok 737. During the flight it was great to look out my window and see the snowy Hindu Kush pass below eventually softening into hills and finally flattening into the vast plains and rolling hills of South Asia.Back in Islamabad, Pakistan I caught a cab to the Daewoo bus station. From past experience of Islamabad, I did not want to waste anymore time there so I was making straight for the city Lahore. The Daewoo busses are the best of the many private bus companies operating in Pakistan. On the bus I sat next to an officer of the Pakistan Army. I was tired and really did not want to talk to anyone, but this being Pakistan if you are by yourself someone is going to start talking to you. At least this guy had some interesting stories. He had been a UN peacekeeper in Bosnia and had a lot of interesting stories from that time. When he found out I had been in Afghanistan he kept asking me if I was in the Army and if I was hunting for Taliban and Osama. I was flattered that anyone would think I could be in the Special Forces.
It was late, close to midnight when I rolled into Lahore. It’s a huge city of 10 million souls. Good thing I had called ahead about my accommodation. The Regale Internet Inn came highly recommended. They were full for the night, but the owner said he had another place he could put me up in. When my cab dropped me off on the Mall near Regal Chowk [street] Malik the Regale owner and his son were waiting for me with their car. Turns out the other place I could stay was Malik’s house. Malik lived a good ways away from the Regale, in a nicer area of the city. He had a guest bedroom with its own bathroom. I felt a little weird staying at the family home of someone I had just met 10 minutes before, but I was tired and was happy to call it a night.
posted by TravelWriterWannaBe at 3:31 PM
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