Round the World on a Shoestring by Pete Strickland

Author:Pete Strickland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brown Dog Books

CHAPTER 11

Back into Pakistan

Heavy rain greeted our arrival at Peshawar which only helped to make the town look even more uninviting and dirtier as mud and mire splattered through the street, though this was somewhat compensated for by the higher temperature, a pleasant change from the below-freezing temperature of Kabul.

From a traveller’s point of view, January appears to be a good time for travelling through Pakistan and India, though having recently suffered our fair share of inclement weather we were very easily satisfied.

We were relieved to see Dick and Tim waiting for us as the bus pulled into the bus depot, a feeling akin to the relief at being able to stretch ourselves after eight hours of discomfort cooped up on the bus. Willing hands swarmed over the bus to unload our baggage, though it would be more accurate to say they were released from the roof. No doubt they were hoping that their small service would reap a rupee or two. Understandably they looked upset when we shook their outstretched hands! We were soon surrounded by crowds offering to change money at intolerable rates. Feeling like hardened travellers, we resolutely refused, used by now, to the ingenuity of such people when it comes to conning tourists.

“We haven’t much time to lose, the train leaves early this evening,” said Tim. A couple of tongas were hailed, we all piled in for the short journey in the horse carts to Peshawar station.

Apart from Dick and Tim, none of us had eaten all day and were feeling ravenous. Fortunately Tim had foreseen this and had forewarned the friendly railway restaurateur to prepare a meal in anticipation of the arrival of eight starving Europeans. Shortly after, we were sitting down tucking into a bowl of curry and rice.

Providing one is a curry fan, eating in Pakistan or India will be no problem. Not only is it the breakfast and dinner of the inhabitants (that is, those that can afford two meals), but more importantly it is cheap. One can manage on a few pence a day, though the monotony of such a diet would tend to limit one’s eating enough to survive.

Our appetites sated, we made our way through the rambling colonial-style station to the booking office to purchase our tickets for the 1,000-mile journey to Karachi. With such a long train journey before us, we all agreed to up our status and travel second-class. To offset this extravagance we made a claim for a student discount.

“Where are your student cards?” asked the railway clerk. Between us we could only produce two student cards, belonging to Bow and Dorte, the two Danes. These cards, together with a collection of international driving permits, and anything else that came to hand that looked official, these were thrust before the by now confused clerk, succeeding in obtaining us a 20% reduction on our train fare. Armed with our tickets we proceeded through the barrier to the crowded platform to board the waiting train.

Luck was with us:

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