Two years ago, more or less in this time of the year, we were in Lahore, Pakistan, it was our last day of visa and we had planned to cross the border and enter in India for the first time of our lives. We reached the border and just in front of it we stopped to drink the last cold drink of Pakistan sure that the border cannot close at 4 in the afternoon…
Obviously it does. So because of a Coca Cola we got “stuck” in no man’s land, with our visa expired.
Few days ago we crossed the same road backwards: we were in Amritsar, India and we wanted to go to Pakistan. With our usually calmness we started to go towards the border way after midday. And Agata wanted a cold drink. “The last Coca Cola of India” she was saying…
Thomas, the wisdom one, refused to stop and kept going ignoring the shower of punches that was falling on his back…
Fortunately.
14:15 – we reach the border.
They stamp our passports and call the officer responsible for the Carnet de Passage.
14:30 – a bus full of people with an incredible amount of luggages enters the custom.
Our presence there gets pushed in the background. We sit and wait.
15:10 – The officer in charge for the documents for the bike shows up and starts to give us an hard time bacuse the validity of the Carnet was extended of 6 months in Sri Lanka by the AAC, and they didn’t put enough stamps. How can he trust the genuinity of an extension granted by an Automobile Association that put so few stamps?!
When we finally manage to convince him that a single stamp is more than enough, he is about to sign our papers when he halts and asks: “How many days did you stay in India? You cannot stay more than 180 days!”
And starts counting… “180! You are in late!”
“No Sir, I wouldn’t call it being in late, I would call it being perfectly in time!”
3 seconds of silence while he is looking for some other flaw to bother us about, he then looks at the watch: “You are in late! In 6 minutes the border on the Pakistan side will close!”
Ma vaffan…
We sat here one hour waiting for you!
Luckily India is India and Pakistan is Pakistan. On the other side our passports are stamped in few seconds and in less than 10 minutes they fill the Carnet de Passages, shake our hands and “Welcome to Pakistan!!”.
And what’s more, for the first time in our trip we had somebody waiting for us at the border!
Our first Pakistani hug was give to us by Moin Khan that in 2011 went from San Francisco to Canada, then to Europe and all the way to Pakistan on his Honda CBR 600. Another, “less organized biker” like us with a dream: to tell the word what an amazing and beautiful country is Pakistan!
The World Bikers community rocks!
Lahore, Pakistan
