Dominoes

It’s simply cynical to argue, every catastrophy has its good aspects. Well, at least I wasn’t able to find them here. But if there were any, I wished them to reveal their true nature earlier.

So it was with the minor and major desasters caused by dull moments, and then being fooled by villains ready for ripping off! Undoubtedly though a long journey changes your mind, you can’t escape your shadow. I probably met a whole legion of black kitties crossing my way on the Silk Roads a couple of years ago. And yet the bigger culture shock is that one after coming back home. — Let the tournament begin!

I

It was on a short Ladyfinger hiking tour, starting from the near basecamp. I was lucky with the fair and mild weather. After refreshing myself with delicious spring water, I set out to the trail, which wasn’t very challengig though it got some steep ramps and slopes. Having reached the small plain next to the needle peak, I enjoyed the gorgeous Hunza alpine view for at least half an hour, and took a series of panoramic shots. However I decided to return, when a bad weather front was approaching.

I had to face that I was missing the trail just a bit too late. Suddenly I found myself clinging mountainside without any chance to set a safe step. And for not letting gravitation win over me, I managed getting rid of my rucksack, which I then saw skipping and rolling down for about 200 metres. — When I checked my stuff later, everything seemed fine. As I was the only guest, I eventually left the camp again alone, another 1–2 hours of a strenous walk down to the village — quite unlike the locals in their flip-flops, hopping over the stones and rocks like geckos. Ah no prob, I thought, as I already had paid the camp a visit days before. But that had been with a group. Now I somehow missed one of those stone pile markers, and then got lost again on a rim of a mountain drainage channel. — Well, the day ended pretty cushy though. While it was uncomfortable outside, my host spent a bottle of fine home-brewd mulberry schnaps; not the that cheap hot crappy stuff they sell the tourists. I beat him in backgammon, so he had to drive me to Abbottabad for free. But I paid him anyway.

The real shocks I received later in Pindi: First, the last eight processed film rolls were emtpy! No gorgeous landscape and Taxila site shots, from a Gilgit polo match, amazing Pakistani trucks, fresh mango juice mixing, and Rawalpindi streets. Paradise lost. It turned out, a tiny spring in my camera’s optics had been torn.

And it still was. I was only given back my prepaid money some days later, after I insistently refused to pay more and threatened the shop man I’d make a police report. — My interest in taking photos then vanished for at least two months, until I got me a new cam in India. — Tilt!

II

We waited for the monsoon shower to come to an end, certainly one of Lahore’s last. Me and my friend from Britain finally were going to a local museum. Nothing more spectacular to see at this overcast weather, and anybody else seemed to prefer to stay inside. We were taking advance of the high sidewalks that certainly were established to canalize the knee-high floods. But we had to cross the streets somewhere anyway. And since we couldn’t see where to step through the muddy brew and maybe sink into a deep pothole, we were wading slowly and cautiously, also avoiding the poles with the transformators and cables, Iain two meters ahead.

Suddenly there were those ants around our feet — millions of biting ants in the water! They seemed to be everywhere, and no way to escape. Electricity! — I am dying! I am dying!, Iain was screaming, while having seizures. Wow, I thought, how could he be aware of this! — The next few things I know, that we somehow got into a nearby building, probably a school. And Iain’s camera had become freakingly hot, as its batteries were about to explode. He was saying, I would have saved his life by pulling him out with my rubber rain coat. I don’t remember; just that the helpful people offering first aid and tea were refusing to take any money. — Flashed!

The next day Iain invited me to a beer and an exclusive barber’s, making us look reborn. And I would meet him again in Amritsar, at the dorm of the Golden Temple. He then told me his favorite song refrain, which turned to be also mine at once as it is extraordinarily appealing — it’s from Bob Dylan’s “Shelter From the Storm”:

I am livin’ in a foreign country
And I’m bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor’s edge
One day I will make it mine!

III

After a long and boring day playing a minor role at a Bollywood film set, I took a shower back in my hostel before going to sleep. The next morning I saw my vest still hanging in the bath room. My given chills were yet enhanced, when I was realizing the traveler’s checks inside worth more than 1000 bucks were gone. At once a dubios Western hostel mate came to my mind, who then indeed had checked out early that morning. Well, it should be a bit of a hassle only, since the tcs were registered on me, and I would be save. However later in Nepal I learned, my home account was nearly empty, as all checks had been cashed. — In downtown Kathmandu I even met that strange guy by chance again. We recognized each other at once in a crowd from a certain distance, but he just startled and pissed off. — Touché!

IV

Being stranded, I had the choice of finding some job or, breaking off my trip and flying home. I did the latter, as I wanted to start studying then. So it happened a few weeks later, I was hammering myself abord with a whisky galore ... and woke up in mid Christmas commerce hell of home. I always interpreted the closing sound of ELO’s “Don’t Bring Me Down!” not to be a door but rather a floor slam after receicing a lucky punch. — Knocked out!

Mission failed — mission accomplished? Laughing at it didn’t help it really. And it was good for nothing; at least I wrote about it. Life’s a race course set with dominoes waiting to fall — better watch it any time! You don’t know, where a tile turns over, and when. And most likely, it was tapped by yourself. But when it’s too late, you won’t easily distinguish, if the ice water that is causing you a cold was from a bucket to revive you, or is from the cracked frozen winter lake, you are you now caved in.