Then and now
Nothing stays the same, and a bicycle ride across Pakistan in 1993 was a visit to a different country to the one I live in now
By Chris Cork
Working on a book about my life and times and travels in Pakistan over the last almost-16 years I went back to the original source material -- my travel diaries. I have carried a notebook everywhere I have travelled in my adult life, and still have all of them. My writing, never very legible anyway, has deteriorated over the years and the entries got more terse, but the basic information is all there. Where I went, who with and what I/we did. The original Pakistan journals fill two legal notebooks that slipped into my bicycle panniers, one on each side. Opening them again after many years and reading some of the entries I realise just how little I knew about Pakistan then, how much I know now, and particularly how much has changed in the intervening years.

Short-changed in Singapore
By Kamal Siddiqi
Singapore! The clean and safe city. One always makes a preference for Singapore as a tourist destination with no unwanted surprises. And the fact that the city-state has much to offer tourists, especially those with families. But my trip this time round left me feeling of short-changed. The ultimate Singapore experience left a lot to be desired.

I have never been inspired by the idea of declaring different cities of the world twins that are separated by thousands of miles of landmass. There's no apparent reason for it though. Perhaps because partner cities are mostly two extremes in terms of infrastructural development, civic facilities, cleanliness, public safety, service delivery and so on.

I learnt the formula at work after watching the late 1980s Hollywood movie Twins, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito. The two stars played the twins -- born as the result of a genetic experiment. One of them inherited the "desirable traits" as perceived by the scientists and the other the "genetic trash". So, you have a super human with all the qualities and virtues on one hand and an evil genius on the other.

Also, announcements made by politicians, promising to transform my hometown Lahore into Paris, come to my mind. Some say they succeeded in achieving the goal whereas others argue it only promoted "vulgarity" and "western values" in an otherwise conservative Islamic culture.

I have always had problems with politicians emulating examples of cities. Must we always take inspiration from the best in the world? Agreed, one must aim for the stars, to reach the moon but for that too one must start from the ground. I think, for people like us, it's imperative to come out of the quagmire and find firm ground to stand on.

But, Karachi Mayor Mustafa Kamal's declaration in May last year that Karachi and Houston are twin cities changed my thinking somewhat…

I came to know about this development after arriving in Houston in May this year, when I started exploring the city as I had to live here until September.

Now, I have spent all my life in Lahore. I have left it for only short spans of time. Being in Houston for the last three months, I can safely say it's the place where I have been most comfortable outside Lahore. I can spend all my time here. I have observed many similarities between Houston and Karachi, even Lahore, which justifies the decision to dub them twins -- though not identical.

The presence of hundreds of thousands of South Asians in Houston, including Pakistanis and Indians, and the easy availability of their cuisine makes one feel at home. Also, the hot and humid weather due to its proximity to the sea makes it similar to Karachi.

But what strengthens this perception the most is the attitude of the local people and the administration. Just like any big city in Pakistan, Houston is not pedestrian-friendly. In many areas there are no pathways. Trees are fast diminishing. Green spaces are being replaced by concrete structures which are not regulated. No wonder you can have a gas station next to a school and a truck stand in the midst of a quiet neighbourhood. All these relaxations have contributed to the growth of real estate. Doesn't it sound familiar to what we experience in Pakistan in the name of development?

Again, the feeling of being back home strengthens further the moment you take a major road. Impatient drivers in four-wheelers honk at you and try to overtake your car from both sides. So very similar to the war of nerves that awaits you on the roads in Pakistan.

Like in Pakistan, Houstonians, rather Texans, love to own a jeep. The something-big-to-look-big mentality is very much prevalent in Houston as well.

Basically, Houstonians do not like to be tied down by rules. They abhor impositions by the state. The number of illegal immigrants in Houston is one of the highest in the United States. It's strange but true that police is not supposed to inquire about the immigrant status of a person until the time he is involved in some crime.

This exactly happens in Pakistan where big cities are flooded with people from everywhere with no fear of being questioned by the law enforcing authorities. A temporary settlement may have been there for years but our police takes notice of it only when there's some major catastrophe.

Then there comes the use of technology to tame the unruly citizens who would never accept that they have violated a rule. Like in our cities, there are hundreds of security and traffic cameras installed in Houston. The only difference is that in Houston these are not discreet; a commuter is cautioned about its presence. In our cities such gadgets are made inconspicuous. The warning: "khabardar cameray ki aankh aap ko daikh rahi hai (beware, a camera is gazing at you) comes after a commuter has gone past the gadget.

The list is long. Cattle rustling (rassa geeri) is common in the outskirts of Houston, which reminds me of central Punjab. Then, the stains of chewed paan (beetle) on the walls of parking lots and pavements in some areas in south-west Houston makes you realise that you are in a neighbourhood inhabited by South Asians.

Last but not the least, the frequently arranged get-togethers by the Pakistani community takes you back home instantly. They are affluent and free of economic worries, and make every effort to make Houston a mini Pakistan. This year is all the more special for it's the first time they held a Pakistan Day Parade in Houston.

Working on a book about my life and times and travels in Pakistan over the last almost-16 years I went back to the original source material -- my travel diaries. I have carried a notebook everywhere I have travelled in my adult life, and still have all of them. My writing, never very legible anyway, has deteriorated over the years and the entries got more terse, but the basic information is all there. Where I went, who with and what I/we did. The original Pakistan journals fill two legal notebooks that slipped into my bicycle panniers, one on each side. Opening them again after many years and reading some of the entries I realise just how little I knew about Pakistan then, how much I know now, and particularly how much has changed in the intervening years.

You never really get to 'know' anywhere as a tourist. Especially a foreign tourist in a country where the culture is completely alien, you speak none of the languages and have no 'mental map' to travel by. I had journeyed outside Europe before -- Africa, the Middle East – but this was to have been my 'furthest east' up to that time. My troubles started at Karachi airport with the discovery that one of the pedals of my bike was missing -- hardly the best start to a cycling holiday. Things perked up when, in a bazaar close to where I spent my first night in Pakistan in the Scouts Association hostel, I found a bicycle repair shop that was able to fix me up with a replacement pedal. I was in business.

Crossing Sindh and Punjab was almost completely drama free. Beyond near-misses with speeding trucks and a very gory accident which I witnessed but managed to avoid being a victim of, it was easy riding. People were surprised to see me, but friendly. The police virtually everywhere asked if I had whisky in my water bottles and looked distinctly suspicious when I asked them to smell -- and they got a whiff of the iodine I used to sterilize my drinking water. Nobody tried to rob me, threatened me or in any way made life difficult for me. Unbeknownst, I passed within a few miles of where my future wife -- who I met another thousand kilometres down the road -- was born and spent her childhood.

Taking the same ride now would be unthinkable. Lower Sindh is now notoriously difficult for lone and independent travellers to cross; robberies are common and the roads clogged with traffic that is almost completely devoid of any sort of discipline. Reading back, I noted the nights I spent in truckstops, with the drivers fascinated by my bike. Often they asked me to join them for their evening meal. Could they help me with anything? Would you like to put your bike on my truck I am going to Gilgit? Be careful in Kohistan and if you get to Passu this is my phone number -- pleasant memories. Today, the whole character of the roads and travel has changed -- faster, busier, less friendly.

By the time I got to Pindi and the home of a contact who put me up for a couple of days I had decided I liked Pakistan. I was introduced to a very polite gangster who helped me out in later years, laid the foundations of a couple of friendships that endure today, and perhaps saw the last of what I now regard as 'old' Pakistan.

The road I rode out of Rawalpindi no longer exists; and it is sometimes hard to spot today where I turned off left for Taxila and the start of the Karakoram Highway. Nowadays, the motorway that links Peshawar with the Twin Cities hums day and night and I never see any foreign cyclists anymore. It was not until I got to Chattar Plain back in 1993 that I met another cyclist, an Australian coming south. He was full of useful tips and tales, and we sat by the road as travellers do. He told me about the 'rumour books' -- books kept by the hotels that tourists made notes in, recording good and bad experiences; and I found my first one at the Green Hills hotel in Dassu-Komila. A couple of months ago on my way back down to Pindi from Gilgit I dropped into the Green Hills. No rumour book now. No tourists either. Just a lot of very edgy local people who looked at me with the 'get out if you know what's good for you' type of look that I see more and more often in the places where there used to be travellers.

My trip to Pakistan in 1993 was at the end of what was something of a revival of the tourist trade here. It was also at the end of the time when this was a truly friendly place to visit. It can still be friendly, and there are places where I am comfortable, but they are fewer and further between. I made a decision to come back here as I flew out of Karachi at the end of November 1993. I did, and since 1995 have spent most of my time here. This is where I will probably spend the rest of my life. But I will be looking for somewhere else as a cycling holiday destination.

Singapore! The clean and safe city. One always makes a preference for Singapore as a tourist destination with no unwanted surprises. And the fact that the city-state has much to offer tourists, especially those with families. But my trip this time round left me feeling of short-changed. The ultimate Singapore experience left a lot to be desired.

Partially at fault are the airlines that take you to Singapore. Apart from the Singapore Airlines, which remains a pleasure to travel by, the two other Far Eastern airlines that fly you to Singapore via Bangkok are poorly managed. For example, my experience with a Hong Kong-based airline that I took.

First shock: the airhostesses were all wearing masks. This is not the best welcome one gets when starting a journey. It is true also that this airline and its counterpart uses possibly the worst aircraft in its fleet for the Karachi sector. In this aircraft, the PA and in-flight entertainment system did not work -- and families were not seated together. The attendants were not apologetic. It seemed they were saying to us that as Pakistanis you deserve no better.

The food was poor and the quality of service pathetic. One missed PIA! Here, of course, one can argue for cheaper fares on this route. But, if we pay top dollar and get budget airline service, something is certainly wrong somewhere.

I hoped that Singapore would be better. But it was not. Taxi drivers tried to extract as many dollars as possible. From the concierge at the hotel to the attendant at the airport -- everyone seemed ready to fleece a tourist.

The problem is that the majority of tourists that now come to Singapore are South Asians. But tell that to the people who run the zoos and family parks. Whenever there was a need to pick a volunteer from among the audience, a European was given the chance.

Victimising South Asians seemed common. For instance, during the night safari, while aboard a tram, a German mistakenly flashed his cameras. But the tour guide accused an Indian family, sitting at the end of the tram, of flouting the rules. The German kept silent.

Such incidents, though small, make you wonder whether it is worth the trouble to make the trip to Singapore. Hard economic times may have arrived in all countries, but the Singaporeans seem to be making things worse for themselves by badly serving the South Asians -- who form the bulk of their tourists.