(Daniel) In an attempt to try and solve the problem of the ever reducing engine power, I emptied the fuel sedimentors, and drained the fuel filter. Then we took some biscuits, and the remaining mugs given to us by the Cappadioccia air balloon people, and left these as presents to thank our hosts, then hit the road early for Quetta. I drove at full speed, albeit still reduced, as the road varied from two lanes to one, to a half a lane in places. Very often we encountered construction, having to detour across the desert to get back to a good stretch. These roads were beautiful and the Wolf lapped up the sand and gravel. The trailer seemed to be coping very well also, although the lower ground clearance did catch once or twice. We were stopped at every checkpoint, filling out our details over and over again, name, passport licence plate, date and time, destination. The Wolf was still slowing down, now topping out at 89km/h, and very gutless.
Eventually we arrived in Quetta province, where at the final police checkpoint the officers insisted on giving us an escort into the town. We gave them the name of the hotel and followed them through the Melee of Tractors, Donkeys, Horses and motorbike rickshaws jostling for position in the streets. It didn’t take long to get separated and after this happened twice the police gave up and drove off. We eventually found the Bloom Star Hotel that was listed in the Lonely Planet.
The rooms were average, and the rates not as keen as I hoped, but there was a central courtyard to get away from the craziness of the town. We checked, then walked out onto the street to find some food. Unfortunately we decided to by some fried food from a stall, chillis in batter, samosas, and various other vegetables fried in batter also. We ate these and then walked back to the hotel, on the way I could feel my belly starting to complain, and hoped that this would not get worse! Gabby stayed in the room, while Rowan and I walked to the bank to get cash, meanwhile I sorted out my cancelled bank card over the mobile phone which had finally started working again. I managed to call Nick, and asked him to check with Land Rover about the power loss issue.
Quetta is an interesting city, with a tribal feel about it on one side, and a huge military presence on the other. On the way to the bank we saw many strange sights, gun shops (I asked, and could have bought one with out a licence). Odd foods, strange medicines and rivers of sewage with people searching around in them for god knows what. I also noticed that we hardly saw any women, in fact I would say that we were maybe seeing one woman to every two or three hundred men that we saw. I am sure that this means that the women are inside, but it is a strange feeling, and I wonder what this means in terms of equality etc. Eventually we found the bank and sorted out our business, then walked back to the hotel.
Gabby wanted to email, so we found an internet shop of antiquated PCs running windows 95 and getting no more than 19kbps! Hotmail struggled to work, and my own email system would not play with the internet speeds.
While the others looked at their emails, I spoke to some locals in the café, and was sad to hear more stories of woe. They wanted to know why the western world assumed that Pakistani people were terrorists. I could see in my minds eye the kind of people still inhabiting internet chat rooms, unlikely to be worldly wise or open minded, yet they are our online ambassadors to people like this. Pakistanis, who are just trying to learn about the outside world through the new freedom that the internet offers, only to find that people in the outside world are already full of information from the media. They assume that there is such a place as “the axis of evil”, and that it is around here somewhere. The Axis is a metaphor for corruption that has got so bad that it can justify the killing of innocent people and make countries enter into pre-emptive wars, justified by fear, in itself conjured by powerful people with hidden agendas.
Night fell, and dinner time came around again. The three of us went across the road from the internet café to a local restaurant and ate a selection of excellent curries. I could feel the earlier street food brewing a storm in my belly and had to cut my meal short to run back to the hotel, where it became apparent that I was not in the best of health internally.
I returned to the restaurant, but the others had gone, so I took a walk around the city again. To my surprise, I found an off license, where I was actually able to buy bottles of real beer. The first beer any of us had seen for many weeks. I excitedly rushed home with the bottles clinking away to share my find with the others. It is amazing how alcohol has gone from a normal thing to us, to an illicit drug in these countries. Still, many people do drink here, but I don’t feel the same, as the perception has changed to that of doing something wrong. A stay in an Islamic country would be good for someone who wants to give up drinking, as it feels much easier not to drink than to face the kind of looks which I did on the way back to the hotel. Looks from people who know full well that you don’t have ten bottles of coke in that bag.
The others were as happy as me to see the beers, and like teenagers we toasted to a new country as we drank them. I hoped that the stresses of the last few days would recede, and that together we would enjoy this country, so rarely visited by outsiders.
Distance driven 250kms