My Travel Adventures

I counted my cash yesterday evening, so I knew that I was going to begin my last day in Pakistan with 5400 rupees – roughly twenty dollars. I thus judged it would be prudent to pay my final settlement for my laundry and hotel dinners by card, since I still wanted to make two stops before going to the airport. I also made the last-minute decision not to leave my bags at the hotel but to take everything with me. This was not because I thought I wouldn’t be able to afford the trip back (which I wasn’t), but because I greatly overestimated the time I would spend at each attraction.     

I dedicated my penultimate day in Pakistan to exploring Karachi. By sheer coincidence, it was the anniversary of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto – the fourth President and ninth Prime Minister of Pakistan, as well as the founder of the Bhutto dynasty – and Google Maps suggested that the opening times of various places might differ from usual hours. I could not find any concrete information on the internet except that the Province of Sindh (Bhutto’s home province) had declared the day a national holiday and would close “all government offices, autonomous bodies, semi-autonomous bodies, corporations, and local councils.” Hardly knowing what to imagine under the terms “autonomous and semi-autonomous bodies,” I decided to simply go about my day as I had intended.

I was glad I had decided to wait until today to visit Thatta, as it was beautifully sunny all day and the roads were mostly passable again after yesterday’s downpour. Still, we had some trouble finding our way to the Chaukhandi Tombs on the outskirts of Karachi. All the paths leading to them from the N5 were dirt, and we had to drive back against the traffic searching for a passage without too many puddles. Once again, I had asked my hotel to help me find a driver with a car for the day. I was glad of his punctuality – a delay of ten minutes does not even feel worth mentioning anymore – and for what it’s worth, I think he enjoyed the trip as well. He had never been to several of the places on my list and was avidly taking pictures everywhere we went.

On this trip I have mostly been waking up before my alarm, but today only a faint light trickled in through the curtains. I had arranged to continue with my driver who drove me from Sukkur yesterday, as he had shown himself to be very dependable, and in any case my hotel in Hyderabad was not able to arrange another one. Being in the tourist industry, he also knew that he was entitled to accommodation at my hotel, so I did not need to worry about where he would sleep. My choice was vindicated very quickly. Knowing the security protocol, my driver proactively contacted the police, and although they were slow to arrive, I am sure the whole affair would have taken much longer had I tried to do this upon checkout.

To my great surprise, I found my driver waiting for me at exactly eight o’clock in the morning. I had arranged a ride with my hotel two nights before, as I feared my intended route would be too difficult to explain in a last-minute conversation with an InDrive chauffeur: the plan was to stop by the Bhutto Family Mausoleum just outside Larkana before continuing to Mohenjo-Daro and finishing the day in Hyderabad. Perhaps it helped that I checked about the driver twice at the reception: once in the evening when I arrived and again in the morning just before eating breakfast.

When I reached Multan and checked in yesterday evening, I was told at the reception that every time I left the hotel, I would have to have a police escort with me. I had read something to that effect on Google reviews and booking sites, but the posts were so old that I assumed they were outdated. In vain did I try to convince the hotel that I had a local friend who would accompany me at all times, for, as I found out later, this measure was not just intended to ensure my own security, but also to keep me away from Multan’s nuclear facilities in case I was a spy. In any case, there was nothing I could do but accept the dictate from on high. At least the service was free.

One major sight I missed in Lahore yesterday was the Lahore Museum – the oldest museum in Pakistan. While the museum building itself seems intimidatingly large, an average visit by a non-specialist might take about an hour and a half to two hours, as the upper floor space is comparatively small. The exhibition halls are organised very logically. As one walks in, the hall with ancient artefacts from Mohenjo Daro, Harappa, and other sites are on the right. On the left is the hall with Islamic art, which leads into spaces dedicated to Hinduism and Buddhism, and finally to a hall that is nominally dedicated to Chinese art but serves as a catchall for everything that doesn’t fit anywhere else (such as the diary of Queen Victoria).