A Journey through the time

Chapter Fifteen - Back to Europe

In April that year my parents decided to proceed on Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), but before leaving, my father left word with the tenant who ploughed our agricultural fields in Southern Punjab to send the annual land rent to me by money order, so that I could buy a motor bike instead of commuting by crowded buses. A couple of weeks after their departure, the money order for Rs. 1,000 (US $105) arrived. Imtiaz suggested that as you are not interested in law studies and you now have some money too, why don't you take off for England. I thought about it for a few days and decided to take his advice. So, another trip to Anarkali bazaar to the same shop where we had bought backpacks a year earlier, only this time I designed a more comfortable bag with two separate straps attached at the top end, the backpack before had straps joining at the top and that pulled on the shoulder and was rather uncomfortable. The shop owner was only too pleased to hear my suggestion and in a couple of days produced a backpack to my specifications. 

This time, I too was not planning to return, so in addition to the basic necessities, I also packed a brand new dark striped suit, a white shirt and a tie. Again, not wanting to cause a stir, I did not tell anyone in my family that I was leaving for England. My backpack was stored in Iqbal Haider's room in law college hostel and slowly I brought my stuff and packed it neatly. In May 1965, I was back at the Lahore Railway Station, where Imtiaz, Iqbal Haider and a couple of other friends came to say farewell. As soon as I reached Quetta, I wrote home and told them where I was headed, so they need not worry. This time the trip seemed like a routine as I had done it all before and I had more money as well. After a couple days in Quetta and after obtaining Iranian visa, I was on board the Zahedan bound train, only this time, I neither bought loose tea leaves nor cigarettes as I wanted to keep the journey simple.

Once in Zahedan, I decided to take a different bus route and go through the historic city of Isfahan. I met a Canadian girl in Zahedan who was returning from her travels and we traveled together until Tehran. It was nice to talk to someone for a couple of days in a language one could communicate with. We stopped overnight in Isfahan, I found it to be an absolutely beautiful place with lovely blue tile work everywhere and thousands of different patterns on those ceramic tiles. We must have walked around the city all day as I remember getting to the hotel and falling asleep like a log and barely waking up in time to catch the Tehran bound bus. We traveled through Kashan (famous for handmade rugs) and Qom, which gained considerable significance after Ayatollah Khomeini made it his headquarter. This time, I stayed in a hotel in Tehran for one night, the hotel room had no safe and I was worried about pickpockets and my money being stolen in the hotel as my backpack had no lock on it. Going out for dinner in the evening, I took a little bit of money in my pocket and hid the wallet under the carpet. Fortunately, the wallet was intact when I returned. 

Tehran was fairly cold in May and one could see snow atop the mountains in Tehran's background. Next day, I was on the Tabriz bound bus just as I had done a year earlier. I went straight to the bus depot to buy a ticket for the next bus to the Turkish border. There I found an American student in considerable distress trying to communicate in English with the Iranian counter clerk who only spoke Persian. I intervened with my little knowledge of Persian and discovered that he too was headed for the Turkish border. Finding someone who spoke English assured him considerably. We traveled together the next day; I did warn him that getting rides in Turkey was not easy. Once at the Turkish border, we struck up a conversation with a short chubby fast-talking American who was an official of the U.S. Embassy in Ankara and had come to receive someone at the border, but his guest did not show up. He offered to give us a ride in his huge Ford Station Wagon to the next town. It was late in the evening so we were delighted to accept his offer. After travelling about 50 km he asked which route we were planning to take. I told him, we were planning to take a train from Erzurum to Ankara. After some consideration, he said he could divert his route and drive us to Erzurum. After traveling most of the night our generous ride dropped us right at Erzurum Railway Station.

Being much further north, Erzurum was much colder than Tehran, so it was quite a relief that the train had heating, only it was jam-packed. Finally, I found a compartment which could accommodate two more people and as I was wearing a Pakistan flag on my khaki shirt, the passengers welcome me immediately, but seeing the American behind me they said there was no room for him. After convincing them that he was my friend and travelling with me, they relented and allowed him into the compartment. He seemed forever grateful for this gesture as I am sure traveling 900 km standing up in the corridor or sitting on his bag would not be much fun. After a while, the fellow Turkish passengers became comfortable and offered us food and drink and we accepted their hospitality with pleasure. The rest of the journey was comfortable though long. Once we reached Ankara my American friend told me he planned to take the Orient Express from Istanbul to Vienna where he was enrolled in studies and was in a hurry to get back, so he took the next train to Istanbul. 

I had to get a visa for Bulgaria so I stayed back. After obtaining the visa I was walking down Cankaya (the main Boulevard in Ankara) to take a taxi to the railway station, when I ran into the American Embassy official who had given us a ride to Erzurum, this time he behaved as if he did not know me and said hello in a casual manner and carried on with his fast-talking conversation with another American. Later it occurred to me that perhaps the other man was his boss and he didn't want to take attention away from him. Not wanting to spend more money than necessary, I took an overnight train to Istanbul, which arrived in the morning. So, I had a few hours site seeing before boarding the Orient Express at 1 PM. The Aya Sophia and Sultan Mosques were magical sites and so were so many other tourist sites and Istanbul's bazaars. 

I made a mental note that I will return one day and spend an entire week in this lovely city, which I am still hoping to do one day soon. After boarding the Orient Express I walked from one end of the train to the other in the faint hope to find my American friend who had set off from Ankara the day before. I was pleasantly surprised to find him in one of the compartments of the train, apparently, he had missed the train the day before. I was happy to have my travel companion back with me. He was headed to Vienna to rejoin his studies and I planned to alight from the train as soon as it reached Yugoslavia and hitch rides to Gmunden, Austria, where I left Bilal behind a year ago. On the way the train stopped at Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, a whole lot of Nazi styled uniformed military officers came aboard to check our passports. No one was allowed to get off the train or move around. It presented a somewhat frightening picture. We were relieved when the train finally left Sofia station for its onward journey. This time getting rides in Yugoslavia was easy and I made good progress towards Austria. The rest of the journey was partially by train and partially through hitching rides.