This dream trip of going back to the places in Pakistan I came to love was very much on my mind. It took 27 years to see it come true, though. I mentioned in my past blogs how crazy Shakil and I are about mountains. Thanks to the Instagram accounts in Pakistan that he follows, this trip was slowly taking the shape of a dream trip for him too.
More so for himself than for me. The images of raw and sharp Passu Cones, the Baltit Fort of Hunza overlooking meadows and cotton-soft pink cherry blossom trees, miles of the Karakorum Highway leading to eternity
I think Shakil placed himself among these scenes and got obsessed. When he suggested why don’t we take the next trip to Pakistan, I kind of agreed tepidly, but my mind and my heart were already racing. I kind of tend to suppress my excitement these days, scared that somehow a manifestation would spoil it all.
It wasn’t easy to get 1) the visa and 2) the flights. The tough questions by the High Commission officers were actually just a veneer. When I told them that my father was posted in Islamabad from the late ’80s to the early ’90s and that I had my friends there,
they softened their tone. But, they said it would take two to three months to get the visa processed and asked us to wait while they would try and see what could be done for us. So, Shakil and I spent the better part of the day in the High Commission,
waiting for the verdict. I had the feeling that we would get the visa to enable us to travel within two weeks, but it wouldn’t come easy. We were the last ones to be called back in to face the officers. Phew! They granted us the visa and were very friendly, giving us suggestions on places to visit and offering us to get details of travel agents from them.
