DAY 5 TUESDAY 101007

PESHAWAR

0800hrs:
So, this is my first morning in Peshawar. The single room that I’ve slept in has been expectedly hot and stuffy. I’m still trying to come to terms with the loss of my phone. "When will I receive my new phone?" I repeat to myself?
I may as well use this time to try and get up to date with my reading and do something about my T-shirts. I originally had some stickers made last year, which haven’t proved very sticky in the heat of the Khyber. At the time I didn’t have enough time to get the T-shirts printed. As it transpired, I couldn’t set-off then in any case.
1200hrs:
Anyway, I make my way to Bilaur Plaza on the main Mall Rd. in Saddar Cantt. On the third floor, I stumble across Medialinks who promise to get my T-shirts printed by tomorrow evening. "How much are they going to charge me for ten T-shirts?" I wondered aloud. After much haggling, the manager settled for 1200 rupees. "Well, that’s exactly 1 pound a piece, I’m quite certain it’s cheaper in the UK," wondering quietly this time.
1300hrs:
A familiar proverb in this country is "Where you solve one problem, a few others emerge." As I trudge along the main road, (Not too dissimilar to a High St. in the UK, I hasten to add) I decide to pop in to a printer and get a letter addressed to the President of Pakistan printed. Lo and behold, the computer operator immediately notifies me of a heap of viruses on my USB (portable PC storage device). What’s worse, some important files have totally disappeared! I begin to curse the T-shirt printer under my breath before calming down safe in the knowledge that I have duplicates of those files elsewhere. Unlike the audio, video and photos that I had on my Nokia N95, which have in all likelihood disappeared forever.
1400hrs:
I arrive at the offices of the Peshawar Urdu daily ‘AAJ’ to meet Shahab. Upon arrival, the receptionist relays to me that he has sent me a text message, asking me to come at 5pm. "He must have sent it to my other number," I gathered. I am now of course using one phone and alternating between two sim cards that I have. Yet, another inconvenience that I have to bear as a result of losing my phone!
I have time to kill so I decide to venture out to a nearby internet café. I soon learn that most of Peshawar’s PCs are infected with viruses. A local suggests that most computer users in Peshawar are oblivious or unwitting of the hazards. He half-jokingly suggested that Peshawar was itself a virus.
"Well, that came from him, not me, I hasten to clarify.
What’s next? I’ll be damned if my laptop is affected too."
1700hrs:
Shahab ushers me into his office. He appears distinctly excited about writing an article on my bicycle ride and doesn’t waste any time in taking a couple of snapshots. We go over the whole raison d’etre of my exercise. I make it clear that I feel my ‘back is against the wall’ and that this ‘Yatra’ (Hindi for tour) is probably my only means to highlight the difficulties that normal people in India and Pakistan have endured as a result of the cold attitude that the governments have shown each other for sixty years. His questions are pretty routine and our meeting finishes with him notifying me that the article would appear either tomorrow or in the following day’s edition. I take this opportunity to ask him about the likelihood of me being able to conduct a press conference on my return (or rather re-return) from Torkhem. He informs me that the Peshawar Press Club normally charges 5,000 rupees for a slot but if I were to explain my plight and discuss the ethical aspects of journalism with the Press Club’s President, I may get lucky!
2000hrs:
The rest of the evening is spent gallivanting around the malls and markets of Saddar Cantt. where modern and traditional forms of retail vie side by side viz. the street trader’s white vests pitching outside the modern retailer’s orderly variety of apparel illuminated by glass, aluminium and marble.
It’s not long before I begin to dread the prospect of that single, stuffy room in the ‘Paradise’ Hotel (as stark a misrepresentation as could be imagined) and what may turn out to be another uncomfortable night.