the time i got scammed in faisalabad but still ate the best biryani of my life
okay, so i've been in faisalabad for three days now and i'm running on about 4 hours of sleep, too much chai, and the lingering paranoia that i left my passport in a rickshaw. but hey, it's a budget student's dream? sort of. i arrived on a rickety bus from lahore, the kind where the suspension is just a suggestion and the driver thinks honking is a spiritual practice. the air smelled like diesel, spices, and something metallic i'd rather not identify. i lugged my backpack - which holds exactly two shirts, a pair of jeans, a sleeping bag that's seen better days, and a mini tripod that's already falling apart - through the chaos of the bus station. a tout immediately latched onto me, promising 'the cheapest hostel in the city, only 300 rupees per night!' i later discovered that meant 'the cheapest hostel still standing after last year's monsoon.' but i was too tired to argue. the weather? it's sitting at a cool 15.13°c but feels like 13.53°c thanks to this weird damp wind that sneaks through the alleys. humidity's 32%, so my skin's drier than the textbooks i keep meaning to read. pressure's steady at 1016 hpa, whatever that means. i just know it's not raining and that's good because my hostel's roof leaks when it's humid. faisalabad sprawls in this chaotic grid of narrow lanes and wide roads that somehow all lead to a traffic circle with a giant clock tower that nobody knows the time of. the clock tower (locally called 'ghanta ghar') is the unofficial meeting point for everyone from street vendors to politicians. around it, the streets scream with rickshaws painted in neon nightmares, carts selling everything from roasted corn to cell phone chargers, and guys ironing clothes on the sidewalk with coal irons. i've never seen so much activity in one spot. it's like an ant colony that drank too much espresso. i survive on 200 rupees a day, which means samosas for breakfast (10 rupees each, and they're worth every paisa), bun kebabs for lunch (30 rupees, a slab of grilled meat in a bun that could double as a weapon), and if i'm feeling fancy, a plate of haleem from that stall that the guy told me is 'the best in town' (i heard that's what they all say). i usually check TripAdvisor's list of cheap eats before i venture out, but sometimes the best stuff is the cart that's about to get shut down by the health inspector. i'm not about that life.
that samosa stall near the clock tower? they say the owner hasn't paid his taxes in years. but the chutney? legendary.
i've been trying to use my student id for discounts. at the museum, the guard just laughed and said 'this isn't lahore, kid.' still got in for half price because i cried. (kidding. maybe.) on the bus, the conductor gave me a student discount without even asking for my id - maybe i look like a broke student, which i am. if you get bored, lahore's a couple hours east on the bus, and multan's to the southwest for that sufi mystic vibe. sialkot's just up the road if i need more leather goods. basically, punjab's a giant playground of cities and i'm just hopping from one to the next on a shoestring. i'm actually staying in a guesthouse just off the main drag near 31.7194°n, 72.9842°e. it's a spot that doesn't exist on most maps but google pins it down. here, look:
the streets here are a photographer's nightmare (in a good way). check out these snaps i found from unsplash that totally capture the vibe:
i met this guy named ali who runs a tiny library out of his bike shop. he lent me a copy of 'the alchemist' for 50 rupees and told me his story about almost moving to canada but staying because his father got sick. it's these random connections that make the whole thing worth it. if you want to find more stories like ali's, check out the Pakistani Travel Forum where locals spill the tea.
the cheapest hostel in town? it's above the kebab place. the smell will haunt your dreams.
i also heard from a drunk backpacker at the hostel bar (which is just a table with a thermos of chai) that the bus to gilgit leaves at 4am and you have to bribe the driver to get a seat. that's on my list if i can scrape together the cash. maybe i'll sell some photos to Yelp's fancy Faisalabad page - though i doubt they'll pay.
beware the guy selling 'antique' brass at the market. he's just melting down old pipes.
i'm sitting on the rooftop of my hostel right now, watching the sky turn orange behind the smokestacks. it's 15 degrees, the air still dry as paper, and i can hear the call to prayer echoing from a dozen minarets, all slightly out of sync. it's messy, it's loud, it's exhausting. but it's real. i've gotten lost in the labyrinthine bazaars, been offered tea by strangers who wouldn't stop talking about cricket, and i've eaten enough street food to probably need a colon cleanse by the time i leave. but i'm here, and i'm alive, and i've spent less than 20 dollars a day doing it. that's a win in my book. i keep thinking about that samosa chutney. i might go get one right now even though it's almost midnight. because why not? the city never sleeps, and neither do i - mostly because the dorm bed feels like a bag of rocks. but i'll deal. check out my budget travel tips on dawn if you need more ways to pinch pennies in pakistan. and if you ever find yourself in faisalabad, look for the guy with the dented thermos selling chai at the corner of the main bazaar - he makes the strongest brew this side of the indus. tell him i sent you; he'll probably just shrug and charge you the same price anyway. ride the chaos. it's the only way.
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