If I said that I liked Gilgit, then loved Karimabad. A little town that climbs up the steep mountainside, situated within a large river valley surrounded by high peaks permanently covered with snow. At over 7,500 feet the air is clear and not too hot. Once again, my son and I were the only guests in a nice hotel, opened up specially for us. Well, that is two bedrooms that overlooked a patio were prepared and the water turned on. It took a couple of days for the water to run completely clean, it started off a horrendous brown colour, but smelled all right. We drove out in the jeep to find another hotel or restaurants in the town for our meals. Breakfast was the best, with porridge, scrambled egg, toast and instant coffee. The atmosphere is far more relaxed up here. I abandoned the salwar kameze for ordinary trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, plus of course, my Tilley hat.
In all we counted nineteen foreign visitors here, the most we saw apart from Islamabad. All the little tourist shops were open with the proprietors waving us inside. Apart from the few embroidered pieces I bought, they were not doing much trade. All this has a knock-on effect. One trader greeted my son, remembering him from two years ago, and thanked us for coming to his country. He spoke excellent English and said that people should not be afraid to travel, for those who have confidence are surrounded by a bubble of protection which keeps them from harm. I liked this idea, but my son said it did not stop me from getting a cough and sore throat. I replied that the bubble could not keep out all the germs, being slightly porous and that my cough (caused by the dust) would soon go away. Our Guide's cousin owned the coffee shop where I bought a German book on the Hunza embroidery. I cannot understand much German, but the illustrations were lovely. The Cousin said they would take me to see the workshop at Threadnet Hunza, a Swiss-based charitable organisation, like Oxfam. Here they arrange for out-workers, mostly widows or poor women who have no income, to make cross-stitch embroidered items. These are brought to the workshop where girls are trained to make up into little bags, pin-cushions, needle-cases, cushion covers etc to a high standard of workmanship. They allowed me to photograph the machinists and also their pattern books. I bought several items as gifts. The Hunza women are quite different. They wear little embroidered pill-box hats with the veil draped over the top and back, not over their faces which are broader in shape. The did not want to be photographed, so I respected their wishes. They spend their lives high up on the mountain growing potatoes, the main cash crop. Some abandon their veils when they work on the terraces, hoeing the weeds, an interminable job. Next - I am helped down a precipice to see a glacier. To unsubscribe send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] containing the line: unsubscribe lace-chat [EMAIL PROTECTED]
