Feb. 10 - Lahore, Pakistan
Friday, February 10 :: Lahore, Pakistan :: 71km today / 4204km total
Another remarkable day in South Asia. I woke up a little late, as I have been for the past week or so, fatigue really setting in - I have day(s) off planned for Lahore, to recover. Off to the Golden Temple, and it was amazing. Sikhism is sort of a cross between Islam and Hinduism, and the Temple itself was exactly that. Built with a large, outer ring wall it had a massive central courtyard, much like a mosque. The courtyard was mostly a huge pool, with a golden building perched in the middle of it. Also mosque-ish was the simplicity - no figurines, no flashy colours, no animals, but many intricate patterns in the stonework. There was a continual chant echoing throughout the complex that to my untrained ear was Hindu-ish. A great start to the day.
Back to the hotel, and at noon checkout I rolled out towards the border. I had only 30km to go and I took it very easy, possibly my last 30km of riding in India... ever? The border itself was well-maintained and very organized, night-and-day from the 2 borders with Nepal that I crossed. After a bit of unnecessary agony I crossed into Pakistan! I went through the formalities on that side, and then hung around for the border closing ceremony.
To understand the significance of much of the border ceremony it's important to understand that it is difficult for Pakistanis to get a visa to visit India, or Indians to get a visa to visit Pakistan, since the countries are more or less at war.
The border closing ceremony was unlike anything I've ever seen. Grandstands on both sides had been erected, and by the time the ceremony started they were jam-packed with people. On the Pakistan side we were directed immediately to the grandstands by the police/army staff, but on the Indian side the Indians took a circuitous route to their seats that had them walking along the border fence, essentially parading the civilians themselves to the Pakistanis. After the end of the ceremony the roles reversed, and the Pakistanis were paraded, on departure, in front of the Indians. Once the seats were filled there was much hubbub on both sides, in anticipation. Binoculars were out on both sides, spectators peering at their counterparts. Indians dress more brightly than Pakistanis, for sure, as was easily apparent by scanning the bandstands. Then the ceremony itself began. Essentially it was a lot of yelling (by soldiers and spectators) and stomping (by soldiers) on both sides, co-ordinated at various times, duelling at other times. I think the Indians won the stomping, but the Pakistanis definitely won the yelling. On one side the Indians were led by "Hindustan" chants, on the other the Pakistanis were led by "Pakistan" chants. The Pakistanis had an edge, as they also were egged on by "Allah Akbar" chants - the variety this offered to the spectators was a clear advantage for Pakistan. An elderly Pakistani man, carrying the flag and dressed in matching colours was magical in working the crowd, as he ran around the grounds yelling and chastizing when the response wasn't loud enough. Sometimes, when the Indian rabble-rouser screamed "Hindustan", the Pakistani spectators heckled out "Allah Akbar", much to their own amusement, laughing as they killed the Indian spectator's reply. It ended with the lowering of both flags and the closing of the gates.
There was a very telling moment just before the whole thing began that really, for me, typified the Indian-Pakistan relationship. After the stands were filled, and the spectators were being worked up, and the army paraders were beginning to puff and growl, a bus appeared on the Indian side - it was the Amritsar (India) to Lahore (Pakistan) bus, a route recently set up for limited cross-border tourism, certainly under the watchful eye of powers-that-be. As the gates (which had been closed at the time) opened, as the bus rolled through, spectators on both sides of the border clapped appreciatively, heartfeltedly. It was quite the moment. Then silence, as the bus moved into Pakistan, then slowly the puffing and growling resumed.
The Sun was low as I ran over to my bike and began the short 30km ride into Lahore. Lahore's an ancient city of 5 million people, and it wasn't long before I paid a tuk-tuk driver to guide me in through the twisting, dark streets. After a few failed attempts at hotels (full? strange), I found a great, central place.
Somewhere in the darkness, rolling along between hotels, I crossed the 4200km mark. This is the distance from Vancouver to Toronto that I rode a few Summers ago with my friend Mike, and is my longest bike trip ever. Rather, it WAS my longest bike trip ever!
Another remarkable day in South Asia. I woke up a little late, as I have been for the past week or so, fatigue really setting in - I have day(s) off planned for Lahore, to recover. Off to the Golden Temple, and it was amazing. Sikhism is sort of a cross between Islam and Hinduism, and the Temple itself was exactly that. Built with a large, outer ring wall it had a massive central courtyard, much like a mosque. The courtyard was mostly a huge pool, with a golden building perched in the middle of it. Also mosque-ish was the simplicity - no figurines, no flashy colours, no animals, but many intricate patterns in the stonework. There was a continual chant echoing throughout the complex that to my untrained ear was Hindu-ish. A great start to the day.
Back to the hotel, and at noon checkout I rolled out towards the border. I had only 30km to go and I took it very easy, possibly my last 30km of riding in India... ever? The border itself was well-maintained and very organized, night-and-day from the 2 borders with Nepal that I crossed. After a bit of unnecessary agony I crossed into Pakistan! I went through the formalities on that side, and then hung around for the border closing ceremony.
To understand the significance of much of the border ceremony it's important to understand that it is difficult for Pakistanis to get a visa to visit India, or Indians to get a visa to visit Pakistan, since the countries are more or less at war.
The border closing ceremony was unlike anything I've ever seen. Grandstands on both sides had been erected, and by the time the ceremony started they were jam-packed with people. On the Pakistan side we were directed immediately to the grandstands by the police/army staff, but on the Indian side the Indians took a circuitous route to their seats that had them walking along the border fence, essentially parading the civilians themselves to the Pakistanis. After the end of the ceremony the roles reversed, and the Pakistanis were paraded, on departure, in front of the Indians. Once the seats were filled there was much hubbub on both sides, in anticipation. Binoculars were out on both sides, spectators peering at their counterparts. Indians dress more brightly than Pakistanis, for sure, as was easily apparent by scanning the bandstands. Then the ceremony itself began. Essentially it was a lot of yelling (by soldiers and spectators) and stomping (by soldiers) on both sides, co-ordinated at various times, duelling at other times. I think the Indians won the stomping, but the Pakistanis definitely won the yelling. On one side the Indians were led by "Hindustan" chants, on the other the Pakistanis were led by "Pakistan" chants. The Pakistanis had an edge, as they also were egged on by "Allah Akbar" chants - the variety this offered to the spectators was a clear advantage for Pakistan. An elderly Pakistani man, carrying the flag and dressed in matching colours was magical in working the crowd, as he ran around the grounds yelling and chastizing when the response wasn't loud enough. Sometimes, when the Indian rabble-rouser screamed "Hindustan", the Pakistani spectators heckled out "Allah Akbar", much to their own amusement, laughing as they killed the Indian spectator's reply. It ended with the lowering of both flags and the closing of the gates.
There was a very telling moment just before the whole thing began that really, for me, typified the Indian-Pakistan relationship. After the stands were filled, and the spectators were being worked up, and the army paraders were beginning to puff and growl, a bus appeared on the Indian side - it was the Amritsar (India) to Lahore (Pakistan) bus, a route recently set up for limited cross-border tourism, certainly under the watchful eye of powers-that-be. As the gates (which had been closed at the time) opened, as the bus rolled through, spectators on both sides of the border clapped appreciatively, heartfeltedly. It was quite the moment. Then silence, as the bus moved into Pakistan, then slowly the puffing and growling resumed.
The Sun was low as I ran over to my bike and began the short 30km ride into Lahore. Lahore's an ancient city of 5 million people, and it wasn't long before I paid a tuk-tuk driver to guide me in through the twisting, dark streets. After a few failed attempts at hotels (full? strange), I found a great, central place.
Somewhere in the darkness, rolling along between hotels, I crossed the 4200km mark. This is the distance from Vancouver to Toronto that I rode a few Summers ago with my friend Mike, and is my longest bike trip ever. Rather, it WAS my longest bike trip ever!
posted by Graham Durrant at 8:49 PM
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