Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus (A GeoEx eBook)

Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus

A Passage to Pakistan: My First Adventure with GeoEx

to see my house?” He gently took my arm and led me to a plot of land that had been leveled, where a cinderblock dwelling was sitting in stately half-completion. “This,” he said proudly, “is my house.” He took me through it room by room, pointing out the electrical outlets, the living room’s airy view, and the kitchen with its fancy new fireplace. At another point I saw two old men sitting by the side of the road, in toothless tranquility. A young boy was standing near them, and I asked him how old they were. He asked them five times, raising his voice a little louder each time until finally he was yelling directly into one man’s ear. Then they nodded and responded with a stream of words. “They are not sure,” the boy translated. “Maybe eighty, maybe ninety.” The gentlemen looked at me and smiled great toothless grins.

that had most attracted me to this trip. In far-off California, I felt that something was waiting for me in Hunza, that something would be revealed to me here. We started our tour yesterday with Baltit Fort. Built 550 years ago and inhabited by the rulers, or mirs, of Hunza until the present residence was built in the 1920s, this white, high- perched palace is a stirring sight, especially when viewed from a distance against a backdrop of cloud-piercing peaks. Then we wandered around the valley, absorbing its sense of prosperity and serenity. Solid rock houses sit beside fertile green plots irrigated by an ingenious, extensive network of canals; and everywhere thin spring willows spire into the sky, and pear, apple, and apricot trees burst into brilliant pink and white bloom. Dusty, litter-free paths interlace the hamlets, and I noticed an aural interlacing as well: Because of the area’s acoustics, a child’s cry or the clanging of a cowbell at one end can be heard clearly at the other. It is as if everyone is everyone else’s neighbor. Today dawned auspiciously clear. I woke with the sun, and at 5:30 a.m. Karimabad was surrounded by a spectacular panorama of peaks, each one glistening golden snow against the sky: Rakaposhi, Pari, The Throne, Ultar. I decided to explore on my own today, and at 6:30 a.m. I walked alone down the main street, exulting at the invigorating air, the head-clearing silence, and the aloof but somehow encouraging solitude, serenity, and strength of the mountains. The entire valley seemed a soul-lightening composition of bold, basic colors: green fields, pink blossoms, white peaks, blue sky. I spent the day in a kind of counterpoint of reflective solitude and entwining encounter. Wherever I wandered, I was met with smiles and waves, but I was also left free to simply roam and reflect. At one point a man strode up to me and said, “How do you do? I am very happy to welcome you to Hunza. Would you like

The encounter that moved me most of all occurred early in the afternoon. I was returning to the mir’s palace when I saw a man in his backyard crafting a beautiful wooden door. He was working slowly and carefully, and seemed so entirely absorbed that there was no separation between him and the wood he was shaping.

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