Punjab State's capital is Lahore. Pakistan's second-largest metropolis and its cultural centre is home to 11 million people.
It's a bustling city with huge green boulevards and chaotic little streets, filth and magnificence, contrast and disorder. According to the locals, "If you haven't seen Lahore, you haven't been born yet."
According to legend, Prince Loh, the son of the Hindu deity Rama, founded a village on the banks of the River Ravi and gave it his name. Lahore, according to historians, has existed for at least 4,000 years. It became a significant metropolis under the Mughals, but much of its exquisite architecture dates from the end of the Mughal era.
Lahore has had racial unrest and a wave of bombings since Pakistan's independence; the most recent was in February 2017. Despite these setbacks, Lahore has remained Pakistan's most beautiful city.
We questioned our border pick up about the overall atmosphere and whether there is someplace we shouldn't go because Pakistan's general election had just taken place a few days earlier and the losers (who were in power) wanted a recount. The recount was anticipated since Imran Khan had promised before the election that if there is any dispute over the results, they will simply recount, and we were informed that there had been large celebrations every night. When we arrived at our hotel and Khan appeared on the TV, the three men working at the front desk began to celebrate.
After a fast change of clothes, our first objective was to attempt to obtain a SIM card. As long as you're not a foreigner, you can purchase them anywhere on the streets. Then, you can only purchase them from the main offices of the provider in Lahore or Islamabad. On a Saturday afternoon, we were aware that they would be closed on Sunday, and according to Google, the location we had looked into since it was said to have better signal in the mountains had already closed.
Even if it was unbearably hot and humid, it is always a good idea to handle the practical matters. Our hotel was located on a street that resembled a typical dusty Pakistani street and was home to a number of practical shops due to its proximity to a market. We took a few short walks.
In Lahore, people only speak Punjabi, thus Emma's limited knowledge of Urdu was useless. Though it took some time to figure out where we wanted to travel, since the numbers were the same, haggling over the fee was at least simple.
Soon, we were zipping around the streets. We quickly came to the conclusion that driving in Pakistan carries the greatest risk. They drive like maniacs and can weave while speeding on the large roadways. It is obvious that you must say "inshallah" when you get at your destination. Additionally, we learned that Pakistani auto-rickshaws lack suspension.
Our auto-rickshaw driver had to search for the location we were going to, and when he did, we discovered that Google had misled us and the location had already closed. The next attempt would have to wait until Monday.
When we arrived back, we went to the roadside stand next to the hotel since we were hungry. A few lentil patties and raita (minted yoghurt) were provided for us. The man rebuffed all offers of payment. We crossed the street before going to a juice stand and ordering two mango juices. Because we are visitors in their nation, two other buyers purchased them for us. Evidently, the generosity of Pakistan is real.
When we arrived back, we went to the roadside stand next to the hotel since we were hungry. A few lentil patties and raita (minted yoghurt) were provided for us. The man rebuffed all offers of payment. We crossed the street before going to a juice stand and ordering two mango juices. Because we are visitors in their nation, two other buyers purchased them for us. Evidently, the generosity of Pakistan is real.
We had read that, in this more traditional area, foreigners stick out and should attempt to be more discrete and culturally aware.
A few hundred eyeballs swivelled to gaze at us when we jumped out of our auto-rickshaw in a fit of pure insanity in front of the shrine (at least, that's how it felt). One of those instances when your initial reaction is "Oh sh*t, what have we gotten ourselves into?" and your second is a fast evaluation of whether there is a real risk or if the feeling is actually one of discomfort or overload. We quickly determined that it was the latter, so we donned our Indian arrogant as F**k attitude and entered.
Although we only gave them a quick scan, there are several layers of security. For everyone else, the checks are fairly strict since some Muslims view Sufi practises as being abnormal, and there was a bombing there in 2010 that left more than 50 people dead.
Before we reached the second bag check, a few women had adopted us. As they escorted us past the queue and walked us down to the marble tomb, they spoke to us in shaky English. They handed us one of their bags of flower petals to toss into the hole at the front when we arrived, and we promptly complied. One of them spoke to the temple guard, who motioned for us to move forward so we could look up and view the ornamental ceiling, before we stepped back to let the following individuals come up. When we did a bunk at that moment and our new friends told us, "Now we pray," they were probably somewhat perplexed.
We were stopped by several groups of women as we were leaving who wanted to shake our hands, chat with us, and take selfies with us.
The shoe rack workers refused to accept our cash. Then, despite our protests, a woman thrust a tub of hot rice pudding (kheer) into our hands. Our strategy was to just exit with assurance, cross the street outside, and hail an auto-rickshaw. We hadn't gone more than 50 metres until one started to tout us, and we were soon speeding through the crowded streets back to our hotel in the dusk (about 7 o'clock).
The whole thing was very intense. We were exhausted.
The rooms at our hotel were acting strangely; for one or two hours, we had been placed in a better room than we had paid for. When we returned, we inquired about our accommodation and were informed that we would be spending both nights in the nicer one. Then, when prospective visitors started arriving and asking to see their rooms, they tried to transfer us. Of course, we were only paying half what they charge for the room, so they immediately wanted it back. We declined since we didn't want to deal with packing up our belongings. We were shocked to see there was no sheet in this opulent chamber. Seems like they anticipate you Notwithstanding the fan and air conditioning, sleep on the fitted sheet. Since we slept at love hotels in Colombia (which are affordable and safe with a 24-hour reception typically run by a madam), we haven't experienced it. at them, you get a fitted sheet and one pillow.
The day after that began with a little drizzle. We had never actually seen rain before, but by the time we left, it had all but ceased.
Given that it's monsoon season and that we were aware only a few days prior that Amritsar and Lahore had experienced prolonged periods of heavy rain (as indicated by flooded streets), we considered ourselves fortunate. It had also chilled down to a pretty pleasant degree.
We returned to the historic district. We were let off by the auto-rickshaw at a park's gate so we could walk to Lahore Fort. Built by the Mughal emperor Akbar in 1566, this UNESCO World Heritage landmark was damaged, rebuilt, refurbished, and then expanded by succeeding Mughal, Sikh, and British monarchs. The location is thought to be hiding some of Lahore's oldest artefacts. While comparable to other significant Mughal forts in India, this one is less ornate and has a more deserted vibe.
We hired a guide because the fort has so many unique features. We turned down the official one that came to us initially and chose the unofficial one instead for half the price (500 rupees, or $6 NZ).
We next went to the nearby Badshahi Masjid (Mosque), which is a famous landmark in Lahore. The Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb had it finished in 1671, and it boasts lovely cream marble domes and carved red sandstone with marble inlaid. The courtyard, which can hold 100,000 people, is guarded by four minarets that stand 53 metres high. The Tomb of Allama Mohammed Iqbal, a philosopher and poet who initially proposed the notion of an independent Pakistan in the 1930s, is located in the centre. The mosque is protected against flooding by the fact that the entire structure is perched on a platform.
We were fortunate that when we went, the rooms above the entrance gate that store several artefacts from the Prophet Mohammed were allowed to enter. After realising we were tourists, the caretaker on one side motioned for us to move aside and unlocked the balcony doors so we could take pictures of the mosque. He then repeated the same on the other side so we could take pictures of the fort.
A few heavily protected structures were seen as we made our way back to the hotel. Although there is a significant security presence, it is mostly hidden in the city and rarely evident. We scarcely realised when we had returned at dusk the night before that our hotel has one at night also when the mini-supermarket adjacent to it has an armed security guard. While it may sound unsettling, all that is happening is a man, sometimes an elderly man, sitting on a chair with a rifle slung over his lap.
We left for the historic Wagah Border closing ceremony after a much-needed cool down and a change of clothes. It's a unique spectacle that deserves to have its own page.
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