End of July 1972: Peshawar to Kabul via the Khyber Pass

  Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN ‎ 978-0993210716 

The following day, July 29 1972, was the day of the bus ride back through the Khyber Pass to Kabul, the journey that had so impressed and inspired Al on his way to India a few months earlier.

They journeyed past trains of laden camels that occasionally blocked the road, fields with sheep and cattle, the strange-looking men wrapped in blankets even in the heat of the sun, standing or sitting is groups seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

There was an incredible movement of people across the border and back. Many were walking in groups. Many of the men were dressed in garments the light-brown colour of the earth. Others were dressed in coloured tunics with waistcoats over light trousers. Most wore turbans.

The women were dressed in colourful outfits or entirely in blue, black or coloured burkas and many carried large pots or bundles on their heads. The children waved at the bus.

The bus itself was a rickety old machine that chugged along up and down the hills. As well as Al and Diane, there were several other western-looking travellers but sometimes it was hard to tell as they were tanned brown and dressed in clothes seen in India. In any case, they all kept themselves to themselves. There was no sign of any cannabis smoking.

As the road zigzagged upwards, sometimes passing over bridges built over what looked like small streams, Al noticed the many tent cities below in the valley, all with herds of camels and donkeys. Higher were the remains of the many forts originally built by the British. In the distance were snowy peaks.

High on the pass were fortified buildings that were the homes of the locals, each with its own watchtower.

In places the road had a simple and crude stone walls separating it from a sheer drop – in other places there was just the drop.

Then we arrived back in Kabul.

Al and Diane headed straight for a small hotel in Chicken Street, called the Peace Hotel. Diane told Al that she had stayed there before and that it was cheap and had good food.

 

TRYING TO FLY AND WONDERING WHY by Alun Buffry (poem)

 TRYING TO FLY AND WONDERING WHY by  Alun Buffry 

Varanasi airport is quite a dump.
It's run by a man who is quite a chump.
Now we cannot board the plane,
Later we will miss our train.
Money flowing down the drain,
India Airways fucked my brain.
Seems the way here is to cheat,
So the system you can beat,
Just don't let them squash your feet,
Push for schedules try to keep.
"Baksheesh - don't say that word here sir,
"We're all paid well by Indian Air
"And you don't know the system here."
"Well I think it fucking weird!"
In India, it's different, so we're told,
Totally corrupt since times of old.
No problem sir, your seats been sold,
Paid in Karma but now with gold.

https://www.buffry.org.uk/poetry.htm

July 1972: Rawalpindi, Islamabad

 A couple of days after arriving in Lahore, Diane told Al that she needed to go to the UK Embassy in Islamabad to collect the money that she hoped her parents had sent. They decided to go to Rawalpindi, a town connected to Islamabad and they would go by train.

So they went to the Lahore railway station and bought tickets to Rawalpindi, about 160 miles, estimated to take 5 to 6 hours. The journey was uneventful, the views of no interest.

They booked into a cheap hotel near the station.

The following day, Al and Diane went together to Islamabad, a few miles away, to the embassy for Afghanistan to buy visas, and then Diane went alone to the UK Embassy to collect her money, whilst Al sat and ate one of the hottest dahl dishes he had ever eaten. It did cool him down though, it was about 100 degrees outside.

When Diane came back, she said she had to wait a few days.

Rawalpindi and Islamabad, although essentially two parts of one big city, were incredibly different.

Rawalpindi consisted of old and dilapidated buildings. The streets were crowded and congested with an array of vehicles and people. It was all quite dirty.

On the other hand, Islamabad with its big hotels, embassies, Government buildings and business offices, seemed to have wider and cleaner streets, pavements to walk on, and was all-in-all seemingly more orderly if less pleasant than Rawalpindi.

So they stayed three days in Rawalpindi, which, despite the dirt, they enjoyed. They were able to buy some very cheap good black hash which they spent the days smoking on the hotel balcony, looking down onto the street and enjoying the view of the local life..

Diane went back to the Embassy and when she came back she was smiling – her money had arrived. And it was in English bank notes. She counted out just over £100 and gave half of it to Al. They decided to go straight to the bus station to get tickets to Peshawar the next day; a journey, they were told, of about 4 hours.

So they took the bus to Peshawar, stayed at the Paradise Hotel and bought tickets for a bus to Kabul the next day.

Peshawar had not changed, it was still dirty and smelly.

Rawalpindi (photo taken from on line)

 

 

July 20 1972: Entering Pakistan and arriving in Lahore: Trouble in a village

 Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN ‎ 978-0993210716

(images from on-line)

The next day, July 20 1972, they met up and went to the bus station – there was a bus leaving that afternoon and it was due to arrive in Lahore in the evening. They would stay one night then get a bus to Rawalpindi. They bought tickets.

Al had been in India almost seven weeks.

A few hours later they were back at the bus station with their bags, had boarded the bus and were on their way to the border crossing at Attari – Wagah along the Grand Trunk Road. It was just about 20 miles and they arrived to be told that the bus would stop long enough to see the daily ceremonial lowering of flags at dusk.

This was one of the strangest military displays Al had ever seen. On each side or the border there were troops dressed in costumes and hats.

On the Indian side the troops wore black with black fan-like hats; on the Pakistani side they wore khaki with red fan hats.

It was like some sort of game, a flag-lowering with synchronised shouting and stamping of feet, with soldiers doing fast goose-step marches and high kicks with a waving of flags and shouting of orders, as if a show of one-upmanship, a battle of wits without bullets being fired with a great waving of arms, salutes and gestures. Crowds had gathered to watch this display. The gate was opened and closed and opened again, and the two country flags lowered simultaneously.

 

When the prancing and parading was over, Al and Diane walked through the customs and passport control and re-boarded the bus that took them towards Lahore.

Not long before they arrived, a young Pakistani man asked if they needed somewhere to stay. He had a house in a village just outside the city and they could stay for free.

Al and Diane agreed and got off the bus with the young man. He led them through a small village to a small house. They entered the house. It was completely devoid of furniture. Not even a chair or a bed.

The man explained that he had only just rented the house and was yet to move in, but if they waited then he would bring them blankets and a rug to sleep on and some tea and food. He left and had not come back.

Instead other young men started entering in groups of two and three, saying that they only wanted to speak in English to practice for their school. They were all talking. About half a dozen with Al at one side of the front room and others to Diane at the other side.

Suddenly Al heard Diane shouting - “No, get off of me, leave me alone!”

Al could see that Diane was looking very uncomfortable and up against the wall with about eight young guys in front of her. It reminded him of the similar situation in the Lahore film studio corridor with Miriam. But, he thought, that was in a public place, this is in a village.

He needed to act fast, so he did exactly what he had done before.

He pushed through the small crowd in front of him and crossed the room. He started shouting; “That is enough, stop it and go away!”

Some of the guys backed off.

He shouted again “Fuck off or I'll stab you!”

With that they started pointing at Diane and shouting at each other. Within a minute or so they had all left the house.

“Come on,” said Al, “let's split before it gets dark and they come back.”

As the light was fading, they walked back through the village to where the bus had stopped. People were shouting at them and it sounded like it may have been abuse. A woman threw a bucket of what looked like dirty water into the street in front of them.

“What's up with this fucking place?” asked Al.

“It's really aggressive here isn't it. Let's get into Lahore.”

Just then a bus came along and they jumped aboard.

 

Al knew exactly the place to stay, the Hotel Eden, where he had stayed with Keith a couple of months earlier. But the staff were different so he did not ask for Bhang, the cannabis drink that he had tried last time. After all, he thought, we want to make an early start tomorrow.

So it wasn't long before they had eaten dinner and were in bed.

Diane asked Al if he had brought any hash.

“No,” he said, “did you hear the tale about the customs woman there that is supposed to be psychic?”

July 14, 15 1972: Diane disappears as we catch the train from Delhi to Amritsar

 Taken From All About My Hat The Hippy Trail 1972 ISBN ‎ 978-0993210716 

The following day, July 14 1972, Al and Diane went first to the Iranian Embassy in Delhi to get a visa, then to the main railway station, which was about a mile from Connaught Circus, to buy tickets to Amritsar.

There was a queue of about fifty men at the one counter that seemed to be staffed and service was slow, even for India. Al and Diane queued for about and hour and then they were approached by a well-dressed and middle-aged English lady.

“Excuse me” she said, “do you know there is a lady's queue?”

“No,” said Diane, “I can't see it, where is it?”

“Oh you can't see it my dear because there are so few women buying tickets, but you can go straight to the front of this queue and they will serve you next my dear.”

So Al gave the money to Diane, and, sure enough, when she went to the counter the man serving went straight to her and she bought the tickets without having to wait at all.

Next day, they took a tut-tut – a three-wheeler motorised rickshaw – to the railway station, negotiated the crowds and found the correct platform and immediately boarded the train.

The train was just about to leave when Diane jumped up saying she needed to buy some food and water and rushed straight off the train, taking her bag with her, and ran down the platform.

Al waited a few minutes, and, as the train was obviously about to leave and Diane had not come back, he quickly hopped off the train and looked up and down the platform.

Diane was nowhere to be seen!

Al didn't know whether to wait in case she missed the train or get on the train in case she had got back on into a different carriage.

The train started to pull away.

 As it began accelerating, Al decided all he could sensibly do was get back on. He spotted an open carriage door and ran and jumped aboard. An Indian voice said in English “Well done Sahib!”

Al found a seat and sat and enjoyed the journey but he discovered it was not possible to go from one carriage to another whilst the train was moving, unless, as some men seemed to do, he climbed out the door and onto the roof. He wasn't going to do that.

The train journey from Delhi to Amritsar was about two hundred and fifty miles and took over ten hours with several long stops at stations. By the time they arrived it was dark. There were plenty of Europeans and maybe Americans alighting from the train, but no sign of Diane. Al went directly to find free accommodation at the Golden Temple. It was signposted in English and a walk of about a mile.

After he found a bed in a room, he headed straight for the food hall. Inside, sitting with a small group of European travellers, was Diane.

After dinner of rice and dahl with chapatti, provided free to travellers by the Sikh Golden Temple donors, Al met with Diane and they agreed to try to catch a bus all the way to Rawalpindi in Pakistan. This would involve crossing the border but no visas were needed. Then in Rawalpindi they could go to nearby Islamabad to collect Diane's money and get visas for Afghanistan.

And There I Was

 AND THERE I WAS

by Alun Buffry, JUNE 2020

And There I Was
With no because.
I travelled on, to sing my song,
To soar up high, to seek and try
To find my Self, beyond earthly wealth,
Within inside, the changing tides,
Through cities close and distant lands,
Mountains, rivers, desert sands.
Towards life’s end,
My Tale I send,
And here within,
My Tale begins.
For there I was,
With no because.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916310745

 

The Scarecrow Dies

by Alun Buffry

A storm outside,
Where fear abides,
The thunder claps,
The lightning zaps
The scarecrows in the fields.

Inside is calm,
Peaceful and warm,
It feels of love,
Soft Light above,
The scarecrows finally yield.

Throughout ones life,
We all feel strife,
Darkness and confusion,
Amidst the world’s illusion
With which we daily deal.

But please don’t cry,
One day we’ll die,
Life is for here and now,
The scarecrows will all bow,
As life is but a wheel.

The scarecrows are the sinners.
The lovers are the winners.
As hatred outside dies,
And peace inside will fly,
And gratitude we’ll feel.

Norwich, 2021.

 https://www.buffry.org.uk/scarecrowdies.html

 

EGO Wall

 EGO WALL
by Alun Buffry, April 2020

So I am the Crown of Creation?
One in a seven billion nation.
Forget recreation.
Forget instant sensation.
Forget procreation.
Forget condemnation.
Focus on creation.

This I can never save the world.
That I cannot in Truth be blamed.
A Creator that can not be named,
Creation that cannot be tamed.
The rich, the powerful and the famed,
Together have our planet lamed.

We build it up, we tear it down.
We re-elect the greedy tyrant clowns,
We blame them whilst they laugh and frown,
As human beings sink and drown.
We beg for someone save us now.
As richest priests won’t bow down.

The Universe , we miss its call.
Those politicians so strong and tall,
They fucked it up and made us small,
Just play your part for one and all.
To put it right is one long haul.
So step outside your Ego Wall

Alun Buffry Life Pics

two poems

Facebook is going downhill

I like FACEBOOK less and less the more they claim to be improving it - I now have to change profile for every one of my pages to write on them

Finding Peace in a Noisy World

Have you ever wanted to find a quiet place where you can simply relax and feel peace away from the problems and hassles of the world, yet when you find it you still hear the ramblings of your mind? That noise which often acts as a barrier to the feeling of peace within is the noise that Prem Rawat talks about and writes about in his book £Hear Yourself: How to Find Peace in a Noisy World”.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hear-Yourself-Peace-Noisy-World/dp/006307074X/webbook05

So how can we stop that noise or at least stop listening to it, in an easy way?

That is what Prem refers to as the Techniques of Self-Knowledge.

To receive the gift of those techniques is a simple process of preparation. Prem’s on-line program called PEAK is a series of short videos that a person can watch as their own rate on phone or tablet, available for free at the TimelessToday website

https://www.premrawat.com/peak-know-yourself/

Here is my own story of my life leading up to and after receiving that gift of Knowledge back in 1972.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1838440127/

 

 

Letter to my local councillors

 I am concerned about Norwich City Council's social housing options policy.

I read about Government and other concern about loneliness amongst the elderly, many of who are forced to live alone due to Norwich City Council's housing policies.

I understand that two bedroom bungalows and two bedroomed ground floor flats are reserved for families and not available for the elderly, as a matter of policy.

Those families could be housed in upper storey flats or houses, whereas older people often have problems with stairs or noise made by tenants of flats above or below them.

Many elderly people may had lost a partner and suffer from living alone, even if they are still physically capable or have home helpers.  They would surely benefit from being allowed to share two bedroomed accomodation?

I am asking you to look into this policy and try to change it.  I realise there may be a shortage of two bedroomed bungalows but it seems senseless to give them to families rather than elderly friends or companions.

In addition of course those elderly people who may have to live along are paying more in enrgy bills, TV licenses, phone and internet services and probably food bills, often out of their only income which is their pensions.

 REPLIES:
Thank you for your email, Cllr Gail Harris who is the cabinet member for Housing will be in a better position to response.
Cllr Kendrick, Paul <p.kendrick@cllr.norwich.gov.uk>

Prem Rawat events

 Prem Rawat has been speaking at a series of events in Europe - London, Glastonbury, Berlin and Barcelona so far and next weekend in Milan. I feel fortunate that I can watch and listen via the internet live, via TimelessToday site. Even more fortunate that I have found his talks inspirational, reassuring, humorous and enjoyable. Even more fortunate that he does so many events in Europe and other continents and do look forward to many more. I continue to recommend his teaching sand the techniques he freely gives to those seeking inner knowledge of self and inner peace and joy. My book, below, is my personal story of my journey towards that almost 50 years ago. I put the lowest possible price on this, almost no commission, just a few pence which will go to good causes, so that others may feel some inspiration for themselves. It's available in most amazon stores, just replace the .co.uk with .com, .fr, .es, .de, .it,  etc, or order through bookshops using the ISBN number 978-1838440121 or direct from me.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1838440127

 

Kashmir@ Srinagar, Dal Lake and Pony Trekking, 1981 and 1985