{"id":1451,"date":"2017-02-22T21:47:42","date_gmt":"2017-02-22T19:47:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/benjamingaisser.wordpress.com\/?p=1451"},"modified":"2017-02-22T21:47:42","modified_gmt":"2017-02-22T19:47:42","slug":"pakistan-ueberraschend-anders","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ben2go.de\/en\/2017\/02\/22\/pakistan-ueberraschend-anders\/","title":{"rendered":"Pakistan \u2013 surprisingly different"},"content":{"rendered":"

Pakistan \u2013 surprisingly different <\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

I was very excited and a little scared. What awaited me here? What should I imagine Pakistan to be like? I immediately thought of war, the Taliban, destruction, and poverty. I can't think of anything positive to say about Pakistan; I simply don't know enough about the country and its people, but that was about to change. The odometer of my car read exactly 195,021 km when I crossed the Pakistani border. The border officials sat in a small, dilapidated building without a door. I was greeted very warmly in English, my passport details and license plate number were carefully entered by hand into a ring binder, and then I was sent to the next station. There, my visa was checked, and I received a personal entry stamp. Less than 10 meters away, four elderly men sat in a circle drinking tea\u2014only a sign next to them and their caps with the inscription "Customs Police" indicated that I was in the right place. Over a cup of tea, I told them who I was and what I did. They didn't hesitate to search my car, remained seated, and continued their conversation. Pakistani customs successfully navigated. I was taken to the next office, where my passport details, my father's name, and my license plate number were entered into a ring binder specifically for tourists. The last tourist had entered five days prior and was from England. I was asked about my plans and itinerary in Pakistan. I was assigned a Levies, a security guard responsible for me. He sat in the passenger seat, and we drove together to the next station. Here, all my information was entered into a book again, and I received my entry stamp for the car in the Carnet de Passage and my passport. All the bureaucratic hurdles were now cleared. It was shortly after 11:00 a.m., and I was traveling with two Levies, one in the car in front of me and one in my car. One of them gave me his mobile phone and asked me to charge it until we reached the next checkpoint. Before we set off, he asked me, "60, 80, 100??" I simply replied, "120, no problem." A short time later, I regretted that statement. The roads in Pakistan are bad, full of potholes and uneven surfaces, but that didn't stop the police car from driving at almost 130 km\/h. I was glad I had an SUV. We passed two checkpoints, the same procedure at each one: passport details, license plate number, and signature, then we continued. At the third checkpoint, we had a cup of tea, and I received a new Levies (police ticket). I no longer had a car in front of me and could drive at my own pace. By the time I reached Dalbandin, I had four different Levies and passed eight different checkpoints, at each one having to write my details in a book. Along the way, I saw a few wild camels. The difference to Iran is immediately apparent. The people here lack everything; they live in mud huts without running water or electricity, and poverty is widespread. Children play in the streets with garbage; there are no toys. There's trash everywhere you look. Once again, I couldn't help thinking how incredibly good we have it in Germany. Arriving in Dalbadin, they took me to a hotel\/restaurant \u2013 probably the only one for tourists. They asked for my passport, but I refused to hand it over and made it clear that it would stay with me. There were three other cars with British license plates parked in the lot. A little later, I met Zaheer. He was traveling to Kashmir with his sister and her husband; they're from Pakistan but live in London. He speaks fluent English and Urdu, which was great because he took care of everything for me. I ordered food and made it clear that I would keep my passport, just like he would. A little later, we sat together over tea and shared our experiences from the journey from Europe to Pakistan. Electricity is only available sporadically here, so the owner, Levies, asked us to enter our information into the computer while the power was still on. Now everyone was happy: we had our passports, the hotel had our information, and we're all traveling to Quetta together tomorrow. We're scheduled to leave at 8:30 a.m. I would have liked to go out on the street for a bit, but unfortunately I wasn't allowed. Since two tourists were kidnapped in 2014, they don't let anyone go out alone anymore. It's a shame, but I'm sure I'll get plenty of opportunities to do so again. It started to rain in the evening, and everything was...\u00a0 <\/span>Glad about the rain, it last rained in February 2016, almost a year ago!<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017-2\"<\/p>\n

\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017-3\"
I quickly made new friends.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017-4\"
On the way from Dalbandin to Quetta<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017-5\"
First impressions of Pakistan<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017\"
2 Levies<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

January 14, 2017<\/b> \u2013 Dalbandin \u2013 Quetta <\/span><\/p>\n

In the morning, we continued our journey in convoy; there were five of us in total. The police led the way, followed by three cars from England. I brought up the rear and had a Levies passenger with me. We were supposed to leave at 8:00 a.m., Pakistani 8:00 a.m. We finally got going at 10:00 a.m. <\/span><\/p>\n

10:00 AM Checkpoint <\/span><\/p>\n

11:30 AM Checkpoint<\/span><\/p>\n

12:30 Checkpoint <\/span><\/p>\n

12:55 PM Checkpoint \u2013 Levies Change<\/span><\/p>\n

1:20 PM Checkpoint \u2013 Levies Change <\/span><\/p>\n

1:45 PM Stop, the road is supposedly blocked<\/span><\/p>\n

3:22 PM Continue <\/span><\/p>\n

3:41 PM Checkpoint <\/span><\/p>\n

4:00 PM Checkpoint \u2013 Levies Change <\/span><\/p>\n

4:30 p.m. Checkpoint <\/span><\/p>\n

4:40 p.m. continues <\/span><\/p>\n

5:10 PM Checkpoint <\/span><\/p>\n

5:35 PM Checkpoint, there's a little snow<\/span><\/p>\n

6:12 PM Checkpoint, progress is very slow <\/span><\/p>\n

6:30 PM Checkpoint, waiting again, the road is blocked <\/span><\/p>\n

8:45 PM After 2 hours of discussion, Levies left on his own.\u00a0<\/span>I'm tired, in a bad mood, pissed off. The Levies are sitting there watching movies on the\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 <\/span>They use their phones and don't care about anything. <\/span><\/p>\n

At 8:50 p.m. I asked for directions at the gas station.<\/span><\/p>\n

At 9:00 PM we found another route, this one leads around to Quetta. <\/span><\/p>\n

10:30 PM Military Checkpoint, waiting<\/span><\/p>\n

10:47 PM \u201cBig Boss coming\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

23:08 Car searched, questions asked about travel route and religion <\/span><\/p>\n

Received tea at 00:35, waiting for the police escort to the hotel. <\/span><\/p>\n

As soon as I heard the word "hotel," I replied that I had no money and wanted to sleep in my car. The response I received was:<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Pakistan, your sleeping in the hotel \u2013 you will get fucked up in your car\u201d <\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

1:00 AM Arrival at the hotel<\/span><\/p>\n

As soon as we arrived in the hotel parking lot, I immediately lay down in my car and locked it. Ten minutes later, a few people banged loudly on my window. I ignored them and fell asleep. I don't have the money or the inclination to sleep in a hotel; the parking lot is in the hotel's courtyard and has five-meter-high walls and a massive steel door. <\/span><\/p>\n

The distance from Dalbandin to Quetta is 500km, and it took me 15 hours. If this continues, it will take me forever to get to Islamabad. It's snowing and quite cold in Quetta; it is winter, after all.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Konvoi_2017\"
Onward in convoy!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017-8\"<\/p>\n

\"Pakistan_Baluchistan_Levis_2017-7\"<\/p>\n

I was planning to continue my journey today, but I need the NOC (non-object certificate) for that. However, today is Sunday and the authorities are closed; without this certificate, I can't go anywhere. So I have to wait until tomorrow, what a pain. The hotel wants 800 rupees per night for me to sleep in my car in the parking lot. Not ideal, but definitely better than an expensive hotel room.<\/p>\n

\"Polizeistation_Baluchistan\"
waiting at the police station<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

One of the hotel staff knocked on my window and I woke up. The police were coming soon to take me to the Home Department, where I would get my NOC (No Entry Certificate). They finally arrived at 10 a.m. and we set off. It's very cold outside and the roads are like glass. It's shocking to see the conditions people have to live in here. Pakistan is probably the most backward country I've ever been to. The NOC is basically just a piece of paper that says: I, Benjamin Gaisser from Germany, am traveling in my own car from Taftan to Bolan. It took two hours and I had to go to five different people, each signing it and sending me on to the next. The last officer then told me that I wouldn't be able to leave the city today; the access road to Sukker was partially blocked due to heavy snowfall. What a mess, now I'm stuck here for another day. They issued the NOC for two days. Back at the hotel, I informed the manager that I wanted to leave now and that I had my NOC (Non-Passenger Certificate). He agreed and made a phone call, and shortly afterward, the police arrived and escorted me out of town. Nobody knew that I wasn't actually allowed to leave yet. Lucky me. The roads were clear, but there had been many accidents the day before. Many cars were parked on the side of the road; they had either crashed or were stuck. None of the cars here would be roadworthy in Germany; there's no vehicle inspection here. The condition of the cars reflects this. Everything that's still running is on the road. The police officers were driving very, very slowly, which annoyed me quite a bit. I told them several times that they should drive faster. I only need an escort in Balochistan; the rest of Pakistan is safe enough to drive alone. I was angry when they said they would escort me all the way to Sukker. It simply takes so much longer to travel with a police escort. I asked them again to drive faster; I didn't want to crawl along an empty highway at 60 km\/h. I overtook her and drove at my own pace; she couldn't or wouldn't keep up, and I lost her. Arriving in Sukker, I asked at a hotel if I could spend the night in their parking lot. Of course, I offered to pay. They refused, and instead offered me a hotel room for 7,000 rupees. I laughed at him and left. Outside the hotel, there was a sign that read "Rooms 2,000 rupees." I spent the night at a nearby gas station. The shop owner kept an eye on me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"DCIM100GOPROGOPR0583.JPG\"
Road to Sukker<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"DCIM100GOPROGOPR0589.JPG\"<\/p>\n

I still didn't have any Pakistani rupees. Up until Quetta, Zaheer had always treated me and taken care of everything. Now, for the first time, I was on my own. I set out to find an ATM, but to my surprise, none of my cards worked\u2014neither my German\/New Zealand Mastercard nor my Maestro. I tried five different banks, but had no luck. The staff at the last bank were incredibly kind and helpful. We went together to a nearby exchange bureau, but unfortunately, it was still closed. "No problem," he said. After a quick phone call, he told me the owner would be right there and I could exchange my money. Sure enough, after 15 minutes, the owner appeared, and I was able to exchange my USD for rupees. I was glad I still had some USD with me. The streets were dirty, with people and motorbikes everywhere, and a thick, gray-yellow smog hung over the entire city. It's hard to imagine how people can live like that, or rather, how they have to; often, they have no other choice. After filling up the tank, I was ready to go. The dream of cheap diesel is over; it costs 75 rupees a liter in Pakistan. Luckily, I had filled all my jerrycans in Iran. A large portion of the diesel they sell in Pakistan comes from Iran. It's smuggled across the border in huge quantities. I wondered how an entire tanker with thousands of liters of diesel could be smuggled across the border undetected. Corruption. Corruption is everywhere, permeating all levels of government, right down to the lowest-ranking traffic cop. Nothing works without it. I didn't make it to Multan that day. At a gas station, I asked if I could sleep there. I immediately became the talk of the place; everyone wanted to see me, and they all stood in a circle around my car. For the teenagers there, I was the first tourist they had ever seen. Crazy. One of the boys spoke a little English; he wants to join the military later. I bought an ice cream at the shop; the price tag said 110 rupees, but the vendor tried to double the price. It was just before midnight when I noticed a knock on my window. The police were a bit concerned for my safety and asked me to spend the night at the nearby police station.<\/p>\n

\"DCIM100GOPROGOPR0588.JPG\"
Road to Lahore<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Today I wanted to drive to Lahore, about a 7-hour drive from Multan. The police wanted to escort me again, so I just drove off. I'm fed up with any more slow escorts. It's annoying. There's a huge difference between the traffic in Germany and Pakistan. It seems like there are no traffic rules; I shared the road with camels, horses, donkeys, cars, trucks, bicycles, and what felt like a million motorcycles. My horn and high beams were constantly on; people here drive like idiots. If you leave even the tiniest gap to the car in front, a motorcyclist will squeeze through. Overtaking is commonplace, even with oncoming traffic and on bends with no visibility\u2014just flash your headlights and the other driver has to swerve. It's insane. Driving in Pakistan is extremely tiring because you have to concentrate so hard; a motorcyclist could be in your blind spot at any moment. I quickly learned not to make any sudden movements. Countless accidents lined the road to Lahore, mostly involving motorcyclists. The highway in Pakistan is only partially developed, and compared to the regular roads, it's incredibly relaxing to drive on. No cows, no motorcycles, and above all, no completely overloaded trucks on the roads. For the first 80 km, I hardly saw any other cars, partly because the highway is a toll road while the other roads are free. From Gorja, I reached Lahore in 3 hours. Dusk was falling; I hate driving in the dark. Streetlights are nonexistent in Pakistan, and most people drive with their high beams on, making it incredibly difficult to concentrate on the road. I was in a pretty bad mood when I stopped at a fast-food restaurant. The waiter was friendly and spoke good English. He gave me the menu and stood next to me for a good five minutes until I told him I needed a little time. He was thrilled to hear I was from Germany. I absolutely had to meet his boss, he said, because he was also German. I could hardly believe it, but when I entered the office, a Pakistani man greeted me in flawless German. I was very surprised and couldn't help but grin; Lahore is a city with 20 million inhabitants.\u00a0 <\/span>And I'm lucky enough to meet him here. Butt is a really nice guy, and he told me his story. He came to Germany in the 70s to study and then stayed on to work. He's been living in Bielefeld with his family for 38 years now and owns several businesses there. "I do everything for Germans," he said. "I'll never forget that Germany helped me back then and made all of this possible. I want to give something back now. Make yourself at home. You're invited." During our conversation, he learned that I was having problems with my car. He sent one of his employees to take my car to the car wash. It was filthy from top to bottom, and no mechanic would have seen anything like it. Afterward, we went together to a mechanic, who said the problem was with the wheel alignment. I tried to explain to him that this wasn't the issue, but they checked it, and it turned out I was right. He discovered a problem with the coil spring\u2014he can fix it tomorrow at noon. I was able to eat for free at Butt's restaurant. In the restaurant's backyard, I was able to shower in a small toilet. It was a tiny room with a hole in the floor, a large bucket, and a small one\u2014that's how they shower in Pakistan. It was my eighth day without a shower, and by then I really didn't care where I showered. I spent the night in the parking lot in front of the restaurant. How lucky I was to have met Butt! He's flying back to Bielefeld tomorrow, but I'm welcome here anytime, and everyone knows about it and will take care of me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Pakistan_Lahore_Butt_2017\"
Butt family<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"Pakistan_Lahore_Butt_20171\"<\/p>\n

\"Big_Man_Lahore\"
The boys from the kitchen<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I googled Nissan dealerships and found two nearby. It turned out they were just regular garages, only with a sign that said "Nissan," quite normal in Pakistan. I was slowly getting used to the traffic; now I can finally drive however I want without getting a ticket and, most importantly, without attracting attention. In the early afternoon, I took my car to the garage and agreed on a fixed price of 1500 rupees (15 euros). About two hours later, my car was ready, but the problem still wasn't solved. The mechanic fiddled with it a bit more, changed the oil, and cleaned my air filter \u2013 which seemed to be full of sand. Tomorrow I'm driving to Islamabad where I'm meeting Anne; we'll be traveling together for the next few weeks. I'm looking forward to some company on the Karakoram Highway.<\/p>\n

\"Werkstatt_Lahore\"
My workshop<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I said goodbye to Butt and set off for Islamabad, or more precisely, Rawalpindi, where I met up with Anne. I picked her up from her Couchsurfing host, and we went in search of a cheap hotel room. We found one at the "National City Hotel." For 2500 rupees (23 euros), we got a rather dingy room with a cold shower. Anne thought the bed was too dirty, so a staff member came twice to change the sheets. Together, we explored the city; it was the first time for both of us that we were truly alone, without security. In a bakery, the owner gave us a kind of pizza, simply because we were tourists. Traveling with a woman might not be so bad after all; Anne attracts most of the attention, so people leave me alone. I bought a kilo of dried dates for 2 euros. The streets were bustling with people, everyone selling something different. I felt like I was in a zoo again, everyone staring and wanting something from me. I tried withdrawing money again, and this time I was lucky; it worked. Tomorrow we're driving on the Karakoram Highway; I'm curious to see what awaits us.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Love_Pakistan\"
We love Pakistan<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Markt_Rawalpindi\"
Market in Rawalpindi<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"Markt_Nu\u0308sse\"<\/p>\n

\"Schafskopf\"
Sheep's head \/ feet<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_2017img_3292\"<\/p>\n

As soon as we woke up, someone wanted a selfie with us. We had breakfast at a restaurant and then set off. They stopped us at the first police checkpoint, but after a brief discussion, we were allowed to continue without an escort. However, a police car was soon on our tail. I thought I'd finally shaken them off. I simply drove past the next checkpoints. I also lost the Levies in the mountains, and we were on our own again. It's just not the same when there's a police car with flashing blue lights constantly in front of or behind you. Every day I see new, crazy things on the roads of Pakistan; today, half a cow in a wheelbarrow. People are still clinging to cars, but I've gotten used to that by now. The traffic has thinned out, and the landscape is becoming increasingly beautiful. More greenery, less trash, the air is getting cleaner. We accidentally drove past Besham and ended up spending the night in Patan. As usual, the police wanted to take us to a hotel. We made it clear to them again that we didn't want to go to a hotel, and they took us to the police station. While we were eating at the restaurant, we attracted the attention of the entire village. At least 100 people were watching and waiting for us outside. It was a funny sight. At the police station, the chief offered us his room. I wasn't feeling well and only slept for three hours. The room was nicely furnished, with a bed, a TV, and two heaters. Electricity was only available at certain times; there was none from 7 pm to 10 pm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"patan_Dorf\"
The first tourist in the village in a long time<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"Polizei\"<\/p>\n

In the morning, the boss asked me if I wanted to shower. I hesitated at first because I didn't fancy a cold shower, but I agreed. He took me to the town's hairdresser \u2013 they have two hot showers there. I think many people don't have their own hot shower at home. Back at the police station, we were given breakfast: tea, milk, naan, cream, and dried nuts and fruit. We relaxed there until noon, then set off. It's about an eight-hour drive to Gilgit \u2013 350 km. The road led us right along the mountainside, with a precipice on one side and the mountain massif on the other. There were stones scattered across the road. I hope none fall on the car. We had a police escort again, and I asked them to drive behind us. That way, at least I wouldn't have to see them and could drive at my own pace. Every now and then, we lost them. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw a truck with German license plates. Jonas, Moritz, and Lukas are traveling around the world in an old fire truck. A really cool project; they're from Karlsruhe. We chatted for ages; they're on their way back, driving through Central Asia to get to Germany. We exchanged contact information and then set off again. It was already dark when we arrived in a small mountain village called Chiles. We asked around for a restaurant serving dal, and a little while later, we had something to eat. The friendly Pakistani man who showed us the restaurant treated us to a meal. He also offered us a place to stay at his home for the night. Unfortunately, we lost him on the road; we waited by the car but couldn't find him. Shortly after, the police approached us and wanted to take us to our hotel. We agreed that we would go with them to the police station, which they agreed to. The landscape has become incredibly beautiful; the water in the river has a deep Turkish color. The roads range from mediocre to bad, often unpaved and riddled with large potholes. Driving is very tiring here; after 4-5 hours of driving I'm exhausted.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_2017img_3353\"<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_2017img_3322\"<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_2017img_3334\"<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_2017img_3347\"
beautiful mountain roads<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_2017img_3318\"
Everyday market life in one of the villages<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I'd just poked my head out of the car when four curious Pakistani police officers were standing in front of me. That's the thing with Pakistanis; they just stand there and watch you. No matter how boring and simple what you're doing is, they find it interesting. We took a farewell photo and set off for Gilgit. A police officer escorted us out of town on his motorbike. The road improved, and Anni and I were happy to be arriving in Gilgit an hour later. With a bit of haggling, we got a room with breakfast at the Embassy Hotel Gilgit for 2000 rupees. There's a small gas burner in the middle of the room, which can be used either for heating or as a stove. The gas hose runs from the hallway, through the room door, to the burner. The hotel has Wi-Fi, so we spent a few hours immersed in the world of social media. When the power went out, we were jolted back to reality. We took our dirty laundry to the laundromat; it cost 640 rupees for a box full of clothes. Expensive. On the way back, we got dal with roti for 200 rupees.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Pakistan_KKH_20171\"
They're quite nice, even if they don't look it.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Pakistan_KKH_20172\"
Gilgit City<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Pakistan_KKH_20173\"
Everyone is happy to see us.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The shower this morning was more or less warm. I showered with two buckets because the showerhead wasn't working. I felt much better than the previous days; I don't know what I ate that upset my stomach. The laundry was still damp when I got it. I packed the car and we set off for Karimabad, 50 km away. The road is still great. Unfortunately, I ran over a small goat; I couldn't swerve. It's really dangerous to drive here; there are always whole boulders lying across the road. Halfway there, we saw a car that had apparently been hit by a large rock; it was completely crushed. It scared me a bit. We passed a few police checkpoints and reached Karimabad in the early afternoon. I really like it here; Karimabad is surrounded by mountains \u2013 the view cleared up a bit, the sun came out, and the true beauty of the area was revealed. In the school parking lot, I cooked myself some fried potatoes with onions (they were a bit sweet) and had cucumber salad with them. Finally, some "Western food" again! My stomach desperately needed it. The children played cricket and football, and I lay in my hammock enjoying the view. As the sun set, it got quite cold. Karimabad is at an altitude of 1700 meters. During the summer months, Karimabad is very touristy, especially with Pakistanis coming to the mountains to enjoy the peace and quiet. In winter, it's very quiet, with hardly any tourists. I bought warm hiking clothes at a secondhand shop. Anne found a room in a small hotel for 1000 rupees. I parked my car right in front and mooched off a bit of Wi-Fi.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_2\"
Enjoy the peace and quiet and the view<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"Pakistan_KKH_20171-2\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_3\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_4\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_1\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_5\"<\/p>\n

After breakfast, we set off for Pasu. The route became increasingly beautiful, the mountains ever higher, and the views ever more breathtaking. The weather still wasn't ideal, quite cloudy. Along the way, we passed through four tunnels \u2013 the Pakistani\/China Friendship Tunnels 1-4. Shortly after, a lake came into view on the right. Part of a house was still visible above the water. A river flows through the valley, dammed by a landslide. Driving towards Pasu, you can see the glacier directly. We took a short hike to its base. Walking on a glacier was an incredible experience, with such an unimaginable amount of ice. At a nearby hotel, we met an elderly villager, around 70 years old. He told us he had climbed K2, the second highest mountain in the world (8,600 meters), twice. We parked the car in the hotel parking lot, and they invited us in for tea. The Karakoram Highway is very busy in the summer, but almost deserted in the winter. The border with China is closed. The hotel was only open because high-ranking police officers had been hunting there yesterday. They bagged a ibex. A hunting license costs $ 3,000 USD. Only wealthy Pakistanis and tourists can afford such pleasures. To bag a blue sheep, you have to shell out $ 7,000 USD. Hotels in Pasu cost 3,000 rupees (30 euros) a night. We drove back to Hunza. In Ali Abbad, while shopping, we discovered a supermarket that had olive oil and Nutella. 7 euros for 500ml of olive oil. Crazy. But it was genuine olive oil from Italy. Because of the cold, the oil and Nutella were hard. At the Rainbow Restaurant, I asked for hot water. Daniel approached me on the street. He's studying film in Pakistan and is currently in the mountains for a project. We had dinner at the restaurant; I had naan with Nutella \u2013 a little bit of home. Anne is staying at the hotel with Daniel and his friend. I slept in the car in the parking lot. The road to the border is closed; it's snowed too much and is very slippery. I really want to see the border; I'll wait until the road reopens. It's the highest border in the world, and I'm not going to miss it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_6\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_9\"
The Patrol and I feel comfortable here<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_7\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_10\"
On the left of the picture is Pasu Glacier<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_13\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_14\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_16\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_17\"
impressive ice masses<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

After a quick breakfast at the Rainbow Hotel, we set off for Sost. The weather was much better than last time. The sun peeked out now and then, and the view of the Pasu Glacier was fantastic. We drove through many small villages where people live in stone houses. Some have solar panels on their roofs, while others have no electricity at all; cooking and heating are done with gas. One kilogram of gas costs about 160 rupees, which is relatively expensive. The road to Sost was pleasant to drive on. I took a few photos on the bridge when a policeman came running up, blowing his whistle. Well, the photos were already taken, so we continued on our way.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_27\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_22\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_24\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_29\"<\/p>\n

Arriving in Sost, I decided to drive towards Khunjerab because of the good weather. We passed a checkpoint where they asked where we were going. We wanted to take photos and look around. The narrow road ran right along the edge of the cliff, and there were many stones on the road again. We had to stop a few times and clear them out of the way. A herd of yaks came towards us; I had never seen yaks before. They look like small bulls with long, shaggy hair. There was a lot of snow on parts of the road; my car was just barely tall enough. I could hear the ice scraping against the undercarriage. The second checkpoint was the entrance to Khunjerab National Park. For Pakistanis, the entrance fee is 40 rupees, but for tourists it's a hefty 800 rupees. <\/span><\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_91\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_90\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_92\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_86\"<\/p>\n

\"pakistan_kkh_karakorum_khunjerab_2017_88\"<\/p>\n

By now the road was covered with a 10cm thick layer of snow, and it was getting noticeably colder. Only after I explained to the ranger that I had snow chains and four-wheel drive were we allowed to pass. Less than 20 meters further on was the next checkpoint, this time run by the police. They took photos of us and checked our passport details. I had made 20 copies of our passports and visas, which shortened the process considerably. We were only allowed to approach the border accompanied by a police officer; the road is very dangerous to drive at this time of year due to the ice and snow. The car was full, so the police officer lay down in the back. Karim is a nice guy; I'd guess he's about 40 years old. He was chosen because he speaks the best English. His English isn't really good, but it's enough to get by. I haven't had so much fun driving in a long time; the route is breathtaking. I let Anne drive for stretches and got the drone out. The footage is stunning.<\/p>\n