“HEY STOP! Where are you going?” - A policeman waves me down at a random check point while I am nicely cruising through fields of Marijuana.
“Islamabad!” I answer and confidently head for the barrier but another man jumps in front of me and makes it clear that I must stop.
Most of the checkpoints in Pakistan were a smile and wave kind of thing. Or in other words, I just had to be polite and fast enough for the authorities to realize too late or not at all what this white man was doing. Sadly, in Pakistan this is different. So I slowed down and smiled while greeting all the official looking guys and, to be sure, some of the others as well.
Once I had stopped I felt how hot it was - somewhere in the upper thirties (°C if you wonder) with a relative humidity close to 100%. My bicycle computer showed already a little over one hundred kilometers for the day. I was in no mood for an extended conversation with the police. But at least I would afterwards have to cover only five more kilometers to reach my next destination.
“Your passport and letter, please.” - said one of the man who wore no uniform. I handed him my passport and told him that I wanted to go to Muzaffarabad and the day after directly to Islamabad.
“Your letter, please!” he insisted while flicking through my passport to find the visa.