The back drop: You might recall that my visit in September/October was to assess water supply needs in remote villages in Muzaffarabad. The undertone of that assessment was to be eventually involved in implementing whichever project the charity chose. I learnt that charity was looking to fund at least one of the projects and so I was trying to juggle revisiting Kashmir with work and a good time for the charity. Thankfully, it was possible to match the charity and my work needs about 3 weeks ago and so here I am for the next 2 weeks! (also, hence why I was not able to tell all about the trip what with tying things over before I left with work etc so sorry to those who’ve found out via Facebook and my emails).
So, the grand plan was to surprise, Nisara, the friend I stay with when I go Kashmir because, let’s be honest, we struck up a rather lovely friendship and I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Plus, it could mean I get to see the country a bit myself as I travel up from Islamabad to Muzaffarabad. For up to almost a week leading up to the trip, though, friends and family were just telling my that I was insane for even thinking up such a thing: “How can you travel up there alone?”, “The country’s very unstable” and “Nisara/no-one knows where you’ll be at all”, which, when you put it like that is kinda believable and I do sound completely nuts. Still, clearly I paid no attention to what might have been viewed as basic safety advice/common sense, and I made my way to Islamabad unannounced anyway.
The reality of my madness, however, became apparent pretty much the moment I made my way to Heathrow airport via its express train from Paddington station and they charged me £16.50 for the 15min journey!! Then, Heathrow were implementing some mad checking-in scheme for the PIA (you’re damn right I wasn’t doing BA again!) passengers where we were being filtered through 3 queues that pretty much started at the other end of Terminal 3 to the PIA desks. After then donating my excess baggage allowance to some crazy, overprotective family with overweight luggage and so essentially being seated with them on the plane, I was told (for the gazillionth time) that I was insane for trying to make it to Muzaffarabad myself. Just what I want to hear as the plane takes off and I have no way now of contacting Nisara to save my arse. Needless to say, sleep didn’t come all that easily on the plane :-s
The weather in Islamabad was pleasant which was a nice surprise because I thought it was going to be raining. The uncle I was sat next to on the plane suddenly upped the “I fear for your life” game and insisted on taking me to his house so I could be picked up by Nisara there. You might be pleased to know that my safety sense finally kicked in at this point and I politely declined, accepting only a lift to the Daewoo bus station.
The Lonely Planet guide to Pakistan said that there were plenty of buses going from the capital to various parts of the north, particularly Muree which is 1.5hrs away from Muzaffarabad. This was great only, it wasn’t true! There was no direct bus to Muzaffarabad or anywhere nearby, but I would have to do a 3-leg bus journey via Abbotabad or a combination of bus and taxi. It was 10.30am when I arrived at the bus station and the next bus wasn’t till 2.15pm to Muree and 1.45pm to Abbotabad and there was no way I was going to take a taxi on my own.
So, the big surprise to visit Nisara and her family was ruined by me calling Nisara and telling her that I was in fact in Islamabad – SURPRISE - and that I was stuck, thuis needing her help! As could have been predicted, her first comment about it was “You stupid girl! What are you thinking traveling on your own in Pakistan?” Once she got over the shock (which I still like to think was linked to a positive feeling) and anger, she just so happened to know that her brother-in-law was in Muree and would be able to pick me from the bus station. Phew! My hero! This did mean I had to wait in the bus station for 3 hours while I waited for him, on just a few hours sleep – a small price to pay, me thinks. You know, one of the best things about Muslim countries is that there’ll always be a prayer area which is curtained off which meant I basically moved into this area at the bus station and fell asleep for a bit.
The journey to Muzaffarabad felt like it took forever, but I think this is because I was excited to see Nisara and the rain, plus winding roads in the mountains, meant we had to drive quite slowly. We eventually got into Muzaffarabad at 7pm and as we approached Dhani Mie Sahiba, Nisara’s village, the rain started to hammer it down and they just started to load shed the electricity meaning it was pitch black. SURPRISE INDEED!
Despite this, it was really nice to be back and to see everyone. I can tell Nisara was really happy to see me because she didn't hit me!!
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