Travel
The Music of KAZAKHSTAN
The sounds of a new language, the clicking of a horse’s hooves on the ground, the howling of the strong winds at night, the barking dogs guarding the herds and the house as I cycle by, the loud crack of thunder in a stormy sky and the drumming of rain pouring down – Kazakhstan brings a new melody to my past days, and the murmurs of the grand steppe are then followed by the silence all around. I am told there is a singing dune nearby. A sand dune that sings! I wonder to myself. Have you ever heard a singing dune? If not, listen!
Upon reaching the entrance gate of the National Park Altyn-Emel in the southeastern corner of Kazakhstan, a burst of rain turns quickly into a hailstorm. I can feel the pain as tiny hailstones hit my body as if some short-tempered furious child in the middle of a tantrum was throwing solid balls at me. By the time I cycle the three kilometers to the park office centre in the small village of Basshi, the weather torture had stopped and the sky had opened up again into a clear blue sky. At the park office, Timur, the staff manager, welcomes me with a firm handshake and after the usual series of questions and answers, he guides me to the backyard where I am allowed to set up my camp.
Quickly enough, the Kazakh lady that works for the guest house of the park notices the whole scene of my arriving with a fully loaded bike, unloading the panniers and unfolding the tent. She gathers around my camp with a couple of journalists that had come to document the sights of the park. They can speak some English and through them, the curious lady finds out about my journey and what I am doing there on my bicycle. She can hardly believe I have cycled all the way from Japan and she invites me for dinner. Her name is Tursenai, and even though she cannot speak a word of English, she communicates incredibly well with the language of gentleness. The next morning again, she beckons me inside for breakfast. “Chai, chai”, she says.
That day, the prospects of finding a group to the singing dune, 50 km away inside the park, fail and I take a day off to rest and catch up on some tasks that I have been putting off due to the demands of the road and the lack of connectivity of the past weeks, like answering emails and updating my blog. At the end of the day as I am preparing dinner on the fuel stove, a young lady appears through the backgate. Timur has told her about my whereabouts and, intrigued, she has come to meet me. Saltanat is accompanied by one of the tour guides that bring foreign visitors to the park and interprets for her. She owns the guesthouse across the road and comes to invite me for dinner. I am delighted by her hospitality. I thank her and I make her notice that I have just eaten and I don’t think my stomach can welcome a second meal, but that I can join her for tea if it’s fine with her.
Saltanat is also kind enough to offer me the use of the facilities in the guesthouse and I take a hot shower before I join her in the dining room where tourists from Germany, Holland, and a group from Taiwan or Hong Hong, I guess, are having their dinner. As it is the norm of Kazakh hospitality, on the table lies an assortment of biscuits, chocolates, and candies, butter, homemade jams and honey. And this is available at every meal! While we have tea, we maintain a triangular conversation: she asks me questions in Kazakh, the tour guide sitting next table with his group interprets into English, and my answer is interpreted back into Kazakh to Saltanat.
It goes on for a while answering what most people in many parts of the world want to know when they meet for the first time a strange foreigner living in the saddle and on the road for lengthy periods, and coming from so far – typical questions ensue; where I am from, where I am going, what countries I have visited, my age, what is my job, whether I have children or a husband, or both, whether I have sisters and brothers, whether my parents are still alive and how often I talk to them, which is my favorite country, how much money I earn and how much I spend, if I am afraid; how I find my way around, whether I have GPS, where I wash my clothes and where I buy food. And at last the question that seems to intrigue everyone: how one ends up spending four years cycling around the world and still continuing?
The next day, Saltanat invites me again for breakfast, and for lunch. I spend all day in the guest house updating my blog, charging my electric devices and chatting with Saltanat and the ladies in the kitchen cooking and baking bread. A Dutch couple traveling with a guide and a driver in a 4 x 4 has accepted to give me a lift to the singing dunes later in the afternoon. The ride takes less than one hour on a corrugated trail, and when at last we reach the dunes, it has the effect of surprise: you would never expect to find a crescent-shaped pyramid of sand rising in the flat and monotone landscape.
Due to the soft surface of the sand, it is a strenuous hike up to the 150 m high dune, progressing at a slow pace. I alternate between a few steps on the side slope and a few more on the ridge. Walking barefoot my feet sink into the warm sand and instantly I feel the cool sand below the surface, enjoying the fine grains around my toes. I always find it very relaxing walking barefoot, a sensual way to connect with space and time, with nature and the present moment.
The oddity of the place is that when an avalanche of sand is triggered by the wind, or even by pushing sand away with your feet or hands, it creates a vibration that emits a rumbling sound; if loud enough, it can be heard kilometers away and can last several minutes. It is a unique phenomenon that has been studied by scientists and not yet completely understood. As I sit alone on the ridge at the top of the dune contemplating the uncanny spectacle of light being cast onto the waters of the Ili River flowing from China, I play with the sand and the tiny grains slip through my fingers. Below, the tour guide is shearing away the sand with his feet, and the deep roaring rises in the air, as if a cry of rage from a distant background, letting the imagination soar into a world of legends and invisible forces, of fantastic animals and spirits of the desert, in the way singing dunes are surrounded by folk superstitions all around the world.
I am not allowed to camp there due to Park restrictions and return to the village with the same group I came with. On the way back, we see marmots and gazelles venturing out as the sunset presents its vivid colors. I assemble my tent one more time in the backyard, and the next morning, after breakfast, I thank Saltanat for her hospitality and say goodbye. As I cycle away, I feel as if my time in Altyn-Emel has been woven with sounds of mystery and great acts of kindness.
By Shanaz Ramzi
The class of ’75 from St Joseph’s Convent High School, held its 50th reunion recently. Our group of friends since school days were also present. While some of us live in Pakistan, many live abroad. Hence, planning the four-day reunion in Karachi was as much fun as the reunion itself, for the challenge was to pack the four days with sights and activities that even the Karachiites hadn’t seen or done in a long time.
We began day one, a Friday, with a coaster trip to our alma mater. We had coordinated with the school headmistress, Sister Margarette, who happened to have taught us too. Without anyone knowing, we had also invited our few favourite teachers to join us. Our group was as thrilled to see them as they were to see us. We took a tour of the magnificent institution, which thankfully looked largely the same as when we were in school, As it is a heritage building, with a few additions of new blocks on the premises.
After leaving the school we made our way to LuckyOne Mall, to show off the largest mall in South Asia to our visitors. We were received by their marketing department and given a guided tour of the whole mall. After partaking of lunch at the Food Court we were taken to Onederland, their amusement centre where we were treated to complimentary rides of our choice. If visiting the school hadn’t transported us to our childhood, whizzing down slides, bumping dodgem cars, and shrieking on roller coaster rides surely did!
Our next stop was Bahria Town, where we cruised through the immaculately laid out roads, and made strategic ‘international’ stops in front of the Eiffel Tower, and the Crookedest Street in the World, for photographs. After tea and ice cream at Murree Hills, we left to freshen up and then partake of an early dinner at the popular Kolachi, Do Darya, restaurant.
The next morning we started early to have brunch at the new Café Imran on the national highway. It must be said here that the long drives we had undertaken from day one turned out to be as much fun as the destinations themselves, for we transformed into giggly teenagers who burst into laughter at the smallest pretext. Laughter is indeed the best medicine, and we all felt rejuvenated despite our action-packed trips.
After brunch we set off for the beautiful UNESCO World Heritage Site, the 17th century Shah Jahan Mosque, in Thatta. It was a blazingly hot day but once you stood within its corridors, the ventilation, brick structure, and amazing architecture of the mosque kept us cool and comfortable. Our next stop was Koonj Farm at Gharo, where we stopped for tea.
The third morning we set off for our city tour. Starting with Mohatta Palace, which surprisingly many were visiting for the first time, we followed it up with the well-maintained Flagstaff House, now known as Quaid e Azam House, where a knowledgeable guide informed the visitors about the history of the artifacts and the rooms on display.
Frere Hall was next, but unfortunately, was closed, being a Sunday. Considering that Sundays are more feasible for families to visit such historical sites, one hopes that the management will re-think their weekly holidays and keep the venue open over the weekend, like the other heritage sites. In fact, at Flagstaff House we were happy to note that there were other visitors also, especially foreigners, and I am sure they must have also wanted to visit Frere Hall.
We then made our way to the heart of the city, beginning with the iconic Empress Market, notoriously used for executions in the days of the British Raj, which became one of the most popular shopping sites for groceries over the years. Our next stop was Karachi Metropolitan Corporation, the erstwhile Karachi Municipal Corporation, which is also closed on Sundays, but thanks to connections, we had managed to get not only an entry into the historic building, but also a guided tour, right up to the rooftop.
Our next destination was a short distance away – the Denso Hall Rahguzar, a landscaped Walking Street, created by Heritage Foundation in 2021. In the middle of what was once a busy, dirty, over-crowded, land-grabbed lane, with shops spilling over with their wares, and motorcyclists and pushcarts jostling for space amidst pedestrians this oasis became a model street designed to mitigate the negative impact of densification and environmental degradation in Karachi’s historic core. A living testament to the adage ‘If there is a will there is a way,’ this street, paved with terracotta tiles hand-made by women who used to beg for a living, has four Miyawaki forests in the centre of the street, offering a cool respite to passersby and shoppers.
Our last stop for our city tour was TDF Ghar, a Dawood Foundation project that has converted what was initially an old residence of a Hindu family into a museum-cum-café, retaining many of the antique artifacts that belonged to the family, and adding interesting elements for the benefit of the visitors. We had brunch there and then left for Sandspit to enjoy the cool, nay cold, sea breeze blowing over the Arabian Sea, as we devoured a live scrumptious barbecue dinner, and shared stories from our past that can only be shared among old friends, no matter after how long you may be meeting them.
Our last day had been left for shopping as no girls’ trip or outing can be complete without splurging on at least some souvenirs and gifts. So, after breakfast at Khudee, which supports Down’s syndrome children by providing them internships, the morning was spent going around Bohri Bazaar and Zainab Market, and the afternoon at Dolmen Mall, Clifton. Dinner was at Creek Walk in Phase VIII where everyone had a great time trying out different gastronomical delights of their choice.
The last item on this hectic four-day itinerary was watching a movie, bringing back childhood memories of sleepovers, and culminating the reunion on a high, nostalgic and sad note that the four days had whizzed by so quickly. But it left us all determined to reschedule a reunion, in five years this time – as we can’t afford to wait another 50 anymore!
By Ariba Syed
China, a land where ancient history meets modern marvels, welcomed me with open arms. From the futuristic skyline of Shanghai to the timeless beauty of the Great Wall, every stop in the journey felt like stepping into a different world. The sights, the people, and the flavours of this incredible country made it a trip to remember.
My adventure began in Beijing, a city where history whispers from every corner. Standing in the middle of the vast Tiananmen Square, one couldn’t help but feel humbled by its significance. A short walk away, the Forbidden City loomed before me—an imperial palace so grand that it felt Prince like stepping back in time. Wandering through its courtyards, I imagined the emperors, princes and concubines who once lived within its walls.
Of course, no trip to Beijing is complete without seeing the Great Wall. Choosing the Mutianyu section, which was both breathtaking and less crowded I climbed those steep stone steps and paused to take in the view-rolling green hills stretching as far as the eye could see. It was one of those moments that make you feel both small and connected to something much greater.
Next up was Shanghại a city of contrasts that perfectly blends the past and future. Walking along the Bund, I was struck by the different colonial-era buildings on one side and the sleek, modern skyscrapers on the other. Strolling through Yu Garden, a peaceful oasis in the middle of the city, delicate pavilions and koi-filled ponds made it easy to forget the hustle and bustle outside.
At night, I headed to the top of the Shanghai Tower and looking down at the sea of city lights felt like I was in a sci-fi movie. The energy of this place was infectious- fast paced, exciting and full of possibilities.
Xi’an was a history lover’s dream. The Terracotta Army was even more impressive in person than I had imagined. Seeing thousands of life-sized warriors standing in silent formation, each with unique facial expressions gave one the chills. I tried to picture the artisans painstakingly sculpting each one more than 2,000 years ago- an incredible feat of craftsmanship and devotion. Renting a bike I rode along the ancient city wall, one of the best preserved in China. The mix of old and new, with the city stretching out on either side, made for a surreal experience.
After the big cities, I wanted to see natural surroundings and there’s no better place than Guilin. Cruising down the Li River was like drifting through a traditional Chinese painting. Misty Karst Mountains towered over the water, their reflections creating a dreamlike effect. As we passed by fishermen on bamboo rafts, one couldn’t help but think this was one of the most beautiful places, I’d ever seen, unaffected by the rapid change in other areas.
Yangshuo, a small town nearby, was equally charming. Renting a bike I rode through rice fields, waving at friendly locals. The slower pace was a welcome change, giving time to a visitor to soak it all in.
Chengdu was all about two things: pandas and spicy food. At the Giant Panda Breeding Research Base, I watched these adorable creatures laze around, munching on bamboo with zero urgency. It was impossible not to fall in love do with these gentle creatures.
Then came the Sichuan cuisine— bold, spicy and addictive. Braving a traditional hot pot experience, I dipped meats and vegetables into a bubbling, chili-filled broth. My mouth was on fire, but I couldn’t stop eating.
As my trip came to an end, I reflected on everything I had seen and experienced. China was more than just its famous landmarks—it was the warmth of the people, the flavours of the food, and the stories embedded in every ancient alley and modern skyscraper. This journey wasn’t just about places; it was about moments, feelings, and memories that would stay with me forever.
By Ayman Munaf
Traveling has always been more than just sightseeing for me. It’s a way to connect, to understand and to find the heartbeat of a place. And Indonesia, this vast, island-studded country was calling me for an adventure. From the bustling cities to serene temples, sun-soaked beaches to ancient jungles, every corner seemed to whisper a story waiting to be heard. Here’s my journey through this magical land, one that left me with memories and lessons I’ll carry for a lifetime.
Jakarta
Touching down in Jakarta was like diving into a kaleidoscope of colours, sounds, and smells. This wasn’t just a normal city; it was an experience. As I wandered through Kota Tua, the Old Town, the colonial architecture stood as a reminder of the past era, contrasting sharply with the modern skyscrapers and lively street vendors around it. The National Monument (Monas) towered above the cityscape, offering a panoramic view that seemed to sum up Jakarta’s dynamic spirit.
Yogyakarta
After Jakarta’s energy, Yogyakarta known as Java’s cultural capital felt like stepping back in time. My journey here was all about exploring the city’s ancient temples, each carrying stories of devotion and craftsmanship. Standing before Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple in the world, as the sunrise cast its golden glow over the stone stupas, was a mesmerizing experience. But Yogyakarta had more to offer. Prambanan, a Hindu temple complex dedicated to Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, was astonishing. The detailed carvings, each with a tale of gods and goddesses, spoke volumes about Indonesia’s rich culture.
Bali
After days of touring the temple and exploring the city, Bali was a welcome change, a place where time seemed to slow down. I spent my days wandering through Ubud’s Tegalalang Rice Terrace, a stunning green landscape sculpted by generations of farmers. Walking through the fields, I could hear the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of nature, a symphony of peace.
Visiting the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary, where monkeys roamed freely there was something magical about watching them in a place that felt almost sacred. Uluwatu Temple is perched high on a cliff with waves crashing against the rocks below. As the sun set, I watched a traditional Kecak dance, the dancers’ rhythmic chanting echoed through adding an enchanting end to the day.
My last stop was Komodo Island, a place known not just for its beauty but for its remarkable inhabitants: the Komodo dragons. Walking on the island felt like stepping into a prehistoric world. Guided by a park ranger, I trailed behind him through the savannas and there I saw a Komodo dragon sunbathing by a tree. This creature is so ancient, it seemed like another era. The experience was thrilling, humbling, and a little nerve wracking. This wasn’t a zoo; it was their territory, and I was just a guest.
Pink Beach
Equally stunning were the beaches surrounding the island, especially the enchanting Pink Beach. Pink Beach truly lives up to its name, with soft sand tinted with a delicate pink presence of microscopic red organisms mixed with white sand. Swimming in the crystal clear waters here felt surreal, like stepping into a dream. I’ll treasure that memory as one of the highlights of my journey, a vivid reminder of the unique and diverse landscapes Indonesia has to offer.
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