10.01.2006

Getting my Bearings

Signor Ros is a great nordic band from Iceland. My friend got me onto them. The music is: sitting in candle light at the end of the day with a good beer and muted conversation behind a window that looks out into the forest; wondering what will come next; dreaming of something elusive; waiting; falling asleep and dreaming about tomorrow and yesterday at the same time.

I'm waiting for blogger to load up on my ultra-slow dial-up connection here in Gilgit, capital of the Northern Areas, Pakistan. At least I have an internet connection. I'm thankful for that. But life is slower up here. Cell phones are rare, gaurded by the government. Electricity is sometimes on. I have to clean my rice before cooking it. The market is a half hour walk away. But I've managed to rent a small house on the compound of the Vision International eye hospital here in town. I'm right by the river, which is turning blue as it settles into its winter course. On my little lawn down by the river I look almost straight up at the 10,000ft high ridge to the north of Gilgit, rising up out of other side of the river, 5500ft above where I stand.

Gilgit is hemmed in by mountains, bare, rocky, brown ridges towering above the town on both sides of the river. If you go up the alluvial fan on which the town is build, towards the south, and a bit to the east you can see the south ridge of the Rakaposhi massif marching up to it's peak above 7000m. Gilgit is just a taste of what is to come should one travel up Hunza valley or to Naltar or back down the road and east to Baltistan, home of the 8000m peaks in Pakistan.

This is a different world. Now I'm where I'm supposed to get serious and get some work done. I write more about that as I know more.

Yesterday I went up to the market and tried to recall how to shop for basic items in Pakistan. I have forgotten the Urdu words for so many things. The main bazaar road is crowded, of course. I was up there about two hours before the breaking of the fast. I stopped by a stand, greedily looking at the pakorras. I bought 1/4 of kilo for 40 cents, picked up some other necessities and went home. I made some chai and sat down to enjoy.

The sun sets early behind the high ridges. First the eastern slopes light up in darkening shades of gold and then the sun bursts up behind the opposing peaks, through the clouds and is gone. And the valley begins to cool and the wind picks up weaving through the roar of the river.

The stars are bright and unhindered by smog.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hey Jordan!
I feel like I am reading an incredible novel when I read your entries. I am feeling very envious of your adventures.
Theresa