Lahore is sleepy with Sunday as I cycle through the tree lined streets. Brown canal water is leaping with school boys splashing in and out. I spend a few days in this beautiful city, enjoying the old red bricks, street life and the peaceful escape of the library-lounging on the old school leather sofas under the high arched roof.
I spend some time familiarising myself with Sam. Only when another traveller bursts out laughing when I tell him I just changed my tires for the first time in my life do I realise what a task I've undertaken…I don't tell him it took me almost two hours.
But finally the day comes when I head out in the early morning sun.
I spend some time familiarising myself with Sam. Only when another traveller bursts out laughing when I tell him I just changed my tires for the first time in my life do I realise what a task I've undertaken…I don't tell him it took me almost two hours.
But finally the day comes when I head out in the early morning sun.
The next few days cycling south to Multan find me the star guest at a Pakistani wedding, surrounded by excited young woman and old ladies with big belly laughs trying to make me marry their sons, cycling through dusty villages of mud houses, water buffaloes lazing in warm waters to my envy, endless motorway pollution, and being pursued by every man with a wheel. I've never been what I would call a traffic stopper, but it seems that is exactly what I am these days. A line of lorries pulls up ahead just to watch me go by, only to overtake slowly , leaning and staring out the windows before pulling up ahead again. One tired afternoon I decide to take advantage of this road side escort and grab hold of the next rickshaw that slows down to stare, getting a free ride the last few kilometres, although we nearly career off the road at one point when he`s too busy trying to get my phone number!
And in a small dusty town of 48 degrees heat, I find a gem of a man who lets overland cyclists stay and eat at his hotel for free in exchange for a postcard from another country. He was a local sports champion in the 1970`s and appreciates anyone who takes up a physical challenge. Why does it always seem to be those with less who give the most?
And in a small dusty town of 48 degrees heat, I find a gem of a man who lets overland cyclists stay and eat at his hotel for free in exchange for a postcard from another country. He was a local sports champion in the 1970`s and appreciates anyone who takes up a physical challenge. Why does it always seem to be those with less who give the most?
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