"Ladies and gentlemen, Inshallah we shall land in a few minutes at Karachi International Airport!"
I have always wondered how you can evoke the grace of God just before landing, never found that to be particularly reassuring, but so far it seemed to have worked for the Kuwait Airways stewardess announcing my final destination, so, what ever lands your plane. 😉
After the usual airport stuff, immigration, baggage claim, money changer, I stepped out into the unknown.
Nothing could have prepared me for the scene before my eyes on that beautiful Karachi night in March 1992.
So far the other Asian airports from which I had ventured out into the unknown had been Manila, Hongkong and Singapore, but the scenery there had been lame in comparison.
Though it was in the middle of the night, the place in front of the airport was teeming with people, minibuses coming and going, their conductors shouting their destinations into the night, utter chaos to the uninitiated, a worthy welcome to my beginning adventure.
After the initial shock I figured that I didn´t have a clue how their transport system worked, which bus to take and how much to pay, so I simply started walking towards the city.
Instead of getting ripped off as the only white guy there, I prefered to rough it and walk to the YMCA, where I hoped to get a room. Not that I would have been ripped off necessarily, but the best way to ensure that is to not enlist anybody´s services in the first place.
It was also a nice and slow approach to get familiar with my new surroundings.
A few minutes after I had left the melee in front of the airport I was the only guy walking in the street, everybody else was passing by in cars and minibuses, throwing the occasional surprised look at me, a single white guy with a heavy backpack stomping through the night, mad dogs and Englishmen.
After some time it started to dawn on me, the hour of the cow dung fires approached, those mystical moments between night and day, this special light in all those regions close to the equator, where dawn and dusk are short but magical.
The streets around me were awakening, doors opened, house wife eyes gave my a surprised look, brains grinding through their memory, trying to recollect if they ever had seen a crazy foreigner walking through their street with his luggage on his back before.
I have found that in all those Asian countries I visited, walking any distance longer than from your doorstep to the curb to catch a rickshaw is frowned upon, only the poorest of the poor walk through the dangers of the night or the heat of the day and crazy white guys apparently.
But if you have a job and earn some money you go by bicycle rickshaw or motor rickshaw, tuktuk or tricycle to the nearest bus stop or if you are quite well off, you take an aircon taxi all the way but you never ever walk any distance you could also ride.
Now, with increasing prosperity and middle class, you can see joggers and cyclists on race or mountain bikes cruising through the big cities like Manila or Bangkok, but that´s exercising or an event to see and be seen.
I don´t remember how long it took me, a couple of hours I guess, but by the grace of God and Lonely Planet Pakistan I made it safely to the YMCA hostel where I was lucky enough to get a single room with a washbasin, communal showers of course. I took a shower and crashed into sweet dreams of incredible adventures to come, regaining my strength after all this flying and walking.
Since this is supposed to become a series of serious travelling, check out the other parts too.
Part One: @likedeeler/likedeeler-begins
Part Two: @likedeeler/likedeeler-goes-karachi
For more inspiring stories and a group of inspiring and supportive people check out @ecotrain.