february 2017
i am hitching in iran towards the pakistani border. got my visa ready (which has to be obtained in your home country) and my friends left in various airports between dubai and muscat. we met on the road and all headed for india, yet i’m the only one who’s done their homework – so they have to fly and i’ll be heading into the islamic republic of pakistan alone.
note to travellers
as of 2017 you have to get a visa for IRP in the country where your passport is issued. in some countries (oman for instance) you may only need resident status in order to be allowed applying for an IRP tourist visa.
part of that homework was to make my opinion whether i found it safe to travel pakistan overland – there have been tourist abductions in the past. after researching online for days and nights i figured that all 3 or 4 cases i could dig up were A) at that time at least 5 years back and B) all tourists were free again at some point. mostly it was the fact A that made my considering it safe enough.
so here i am in a truck approaching zahedan. the driver told me he’d go all the way to taftan the next morning, lucky me! he invited me in his house and after i came out of the shower asked me if i had washed my hair. his wife chuckled and told him something farsi that probably meant that dreadlocks are supposed to be looking this way. 🙂
the next day we’re off to the border. not too soon into the journey we pass a checkpoint and the officials want me off the truck – security reasons. i’m annoyed yet could have expected something alike, as florian schmale wasn’t allowed to approach the border riding his bicycle in 2012. according to their blogs most fellow travellers get a cab right from zahedan to get to the border.
some waiting, some passport showing, some more waiting and then a taxi arrives to bring me to the border. i’m not happy and felt more safe in the truck anyways! (worried i am mostly about my financial safety, yet surprisingly the cab driver didn’t ask for money.)
the iranian border office looks modern, clean and alien as any good office. formalities are quick enough. i am sent onwards into the unknown.
i leave the building and walk down a wide road towards a 100 meters distant gate..
..and accidentally walk by the pakistani immigration ‘office’! for a split second did i wonder why there was a tea-vending vestibule with 2 people playing backgammon infront in this particular location! well, it wasn’t exactly a place to have a coffee. inside 2 officers and 4 webcams from the nineties (not the officers).
i get my picture taken and fingerprint and in turn receive a stamp. and an answer to a very important question! whether i am allowed 3 months in the country from now on or whether ‘good for journey 12/01/2016 to 02/28/2017’ means that i passed most of my pakistani visa in iran, although it’s called a 3-month-visa. (remember, it is already february.) the officer says 3 months from the date of the stamp, yay! (this may be important to fellow travellers and will prove important several times lateron)
crossing belochistan
although it’s only early afternoon i am brought to the levies’ station (not jeans, but the local police/ army/ officers). made to sign a pamphlet with my name and date and showed a room with desk and chair and carpet. am i gonna stay here till tomorrow? turns out yes.
there’s a shop in town that sports biscuits and chocolate bars and water or fizzy drinks, nothing too healthy but unhealthy prices! i don’t remember an atm or whether i trusted the guy outside the immigration office who wanted to change my iranian money and some dollars. if memory doesn’t fail me i found him dodgy. but i do remember that i bought biscuits at the shop to prevent starvation.
at some point back in the station (i am brought to and fro the shop, roaming taftan freely didn’t seem like an option) i am offered a plate of food and tea, at nightfall i smell strong ganja and am offered a joint by one of the more talkative levies. welcome to pakistan!
they tell me to get up at 7:30 the next morning to head to quetta, escorted of course. i knew about being escorted throughout the belochistan province and am not surprised. much surprised though at 7 in the morning to be woken up with the words that i am late! dawn outside.
i get in the first car when the sun’s first rays barely touch the horizon. it’s a pickup with 2 seats; one driver, me and a levie with kalashnikov. i’m a little bit afraid of that gun sometimes pointing my way! and, of course, slightly anxious of the journey to come. after few hours i changed cars, levies, guns more times than i counted and tiredness and routine take the place of anxiousness. every stop seems to mark the end of one district, a new division (tribe?) of levies is ‘responsible’ for the area, for me, god knows. sign the pamphlet, take your backpack from one trunk to another, shake hands, smile for selfies (sometimes), get in the new old car, off we go. pretty much like hitchhiking! except the cars are already there, waiting for me. there’s also an exception to this; once i wait an endless time (maybe one hour) while the levies to accompany me on the next stretch seem pretty agitated about this untimely circumstance. i assume they know they are expected to deliver the tourist to quetta in the same day, in the same daylight, i don’t know.
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this is part 1 of 2 blog posts about my pakistan travels.
(source of title image: http://www.homeiswherethecaris.com/crossing-the-border-from-iran-to-pakistan/)