Skardu - September 2, 2007

September 2, 2007

This morning at breakfast, my roommate and I sat with a health clinic worker from Islamabad. While talking, I mentioned yesterday’s episode about the guide’s and my encounter with the Taliban man in the village. It appears the Taliban is making inroads to these smaller communities by giving help and money to people, indebting them to the Taliban. Many Taliban are crossing the border since the pressure is on in Afghanistan. This is interesting; when a member of the Taliban goes to the barber shop, he grabs his beard with his fist while holding it against his chin. If the beard doesn’t reach past the lower edge of his fist, the beard can not be trimmed. The episode yesterday of the Taliban man berating his fellow men is probably just the beginning, with more to come. The sad fact is that no one fights back and rejects their behavior.

Boarding the bus, we headed 30 km into Skardu for a walk around the old and new bazaars. The old bazaar reflects the traditional shops with DUSTY products, boiled eggs, hiking boots left over from expeditions, toys, kitchen equipment and practically anything one could want. The power and telephone wires crisscross overhead, water runs in the street, vehicles squeeze past one another, the smells overwhelm the senses and friends meet and greet each other. One particular smell is a huge mound of dried apricots. A young man shovels the apricots into a massive bag and offers a taste. After tasting, we purchase a small bag from him.

Our feet (and I’m wearing sandals) collect more and more dust as we walk through the old bazaar. Eventually arriving into the newer portion, down the main street of Skardu doesn’t help with dust on the feet; more layers accumulate. Many of the men want their photos taken, and aren’t shy at all when I ask to take their picture. One shop keeper wrote his address down and asked that I mail his picture to him. Good luck, I think, of anything getting through the Pakistani postal system (please, no comments about the U.S. Postal Service).

Somewhere in the bazaar, I lost the rest of the group and eventually found Garry and Rich purchasing video cassettes and postcards. Again, it’s a sharing of rupees between us to finalize the purchase.

After lunch we boarded the van and journeyed to Shangrila, a lake resort surrounded 270 degrees by mountains. Parked on the lawn is a DC-3 which has been modified into a coffee shop. The plane crashed nearby after taking off from the Skardu airport, but received very little damage, sometime in the 1990s. The owner of the lodge, a high ranking officer in the military, bought and added it to the resort. Unfortunately, you can’t get coffee or anything else to drink in the DC-3 cafe; however, we enjoyed tea and coffee on the lawn by the lake instead.

One time while riding in the van, our guide Hammid explained how his marriage was arranged and process of meeting his wife. His parents and his wife’s parents arranged Hammid’s marriage when he was merely five years old. Our van driver Fida’s marriage was also arranged, but no details followed. Iqbahl, the younger guide sitting in the front of the van listening to the marriage arrangements, when asked, if his parents have arranged his marriage, Iqbahl replied,” I’m not like these old guys. I’m not going to have an arranged marriage.” He’s more modern. Mind you, Hammid and Fida are not old and Iqbahl is only 10 years younger, in his early twenties. How amazing, a half of world apart and the younger people have the same opinions.

Tomorrow, we’re reversing our tracks and headed back towards Gilgit and onward to Kirimabad for 3 consecutive nights. Still, Internet connection will be spotty and you may only be able to read the blogs with no photos attached. When we do find Internet connection, it’s usually very slow.

Salaam,

Rich, Garry and Tamara

Captions: 1) Scene from Skardu's old bazaar 2) Scene from new bazaar in Skardu, lunch anyone? 3)Scene from old bazaar in Skardu 4) DC-3 located at Shangrila Hotel 5) Scene from old bazaar in Skardu, a huge mound of apricots