Why I Left Lahore at 2 AM (And You Should Too) – A Real Pakistani Travel Story

By Sami Ullah Khan | October 2024 | 8 min read

Let me be honest. I am not a travel influencer. I don't have a DSLR. My Instagram reels get 40 views – mostly my mother. But last month, I did something that made me feel alive for the first time in three years.

I live in Lahore. Johar Town, to be exact. My life was simple: wake up, sit in Ferozepur Road traffic, listen to my boss, come back, eat, sleep, repeat. On weekends, I would scroll through other people's travel photos and feel jealous. Then one Tuesday night, I couldn't sleep. It was 2 AM. I texted my friend Usman: "Chal kahin chalein?"

He replied in one minute: "Gaari le kar aaja. Main bag pack karta hoon."

No plan. No booking. No permission from parents (I told my mother I was going to a friend's house for one day. She still doesn't know the truth).

The Car, The Chai, and The Worst Road Ever

We left Lahore at 4 AM in Usman's 2003 model Mehran. AC? Not really. Suspension? Gone. But that car has more heart than most new Corollas.

We took the GT Road. At Kala Shah Kaku, we stopped at a small dhaba. An old man with shaky hands made us anda paratha with so much oil that it dripped down my elbow. The chai came in a glass that had cracks. I asked for a clean one. He laughed and said, "Beta, yahan glass saaf nahi, taste saaf hai."

He was right. That chai was better than anything I've had at Gloria Jean's.

That dhaba is about 15 minutes before the M2 motorway entrance. No name. Just look for a blue tarpaulin and a man frying eggs in a black karhai.

Motorway Madness

We entered the M2 near Sheikhupura. The sun was rising. Usman opened his window. The wind hit my face – not Lahore's hot, dusty wind, but cool and clean. For the first time in months, I wasn't thinking about my pending tasks or the electricity bill.

Then the car started making a noise. A weird tak tak tak. Usman said, "Koi baat nahi. Engine ka normal hai."

Spoiler: It was not normal. We broke down near Kallar Kahar. A truck driver named Ghulam Rasool stopped. He didn't have to. He spent 20 minutes fixing our fan belt with a piece of old wire. I offered him 500 rupees. He refused. He said, "Main bhi kabhi jawaan tha. Ghooma karo. Paisa baad mein sochna."

I still have his number. I still haven't paid him.

Nathia Gali – Where My Phone Died (And I Didn't Care)

We reached Nathia Gali by 2 PM. No hotel booking. No plan. We found a small room for 3000 rupees – no TV, no WiFi, just two beds and a window that opened to pine trees. The owner was a Pathan uncle who smelled of old cigarette smoke. He gave us two blankets and said, "Bijli 8 bajay se 10 bajay tak nahi aani. Adjust karo."

At 8 PM, the power went out. Exactly as he said. I sat on the balcony in complete darkness. No phone (battery dead anyway). No noise. Just the sound of wind through pine trees and a few dogs barking far away.

I sat there for two hours. No scrolling. No thinking. Just… sitting. I realised something. I hadn't been still like this since I was a child. My mind was quiet. Really quiet.

If you want to find real peace in Nathia Gali, avoid the main bazaar. Ask locals for the track behind the old church. Most tourists don't go there. That's where you'll find silence.

The Old Lady Who Fed Me With Her Hands

Next morning, I went for a walk alone. I took a wrong turn and ended up in a small village – three mud houses, some chickens, and an old woman sitting on a charpai.

She was maybe 70. Bent back. No teeth. She saw me lost and gestured to come sit. I tried to speak Urdu. She spoke only Hindko. We communicated with hand signs and smiles.

She brought me a plate of sarson ka saag and a thick makai ki roti – made on a wood fire. The roti was burnt at the edges. The saag had no butter, no cream, nothing fancy. I finished it in three minutes. I wanted to cry. Not because I was sad. Because she had so little, but she gave me everything.

I tried to leave money under the plate. She caught me. She held my wrist – her grip was surprisingly strong – and shook her head. Then she smiled. A toothless, real smile.

I think about her every time I complain about my life.

What I Learned (No Philosophy, Just Facts)

I stayed for three days. I didn't go to any "top 10 tourist spots." I didn't take any aesthetic photos. I just walked, ate maggi twice a day, and talked to locals.

Coming back to Lahore was hard. The noise hit me first. Then a work email at 11 PM. Then my mother asking why I looked so tired.

But something changed. Now, when traffic on Ferozepur Road makes me angry, I close my eyes and remember the pine trees. When my boss sends a passive-aggressive message, I remember the old woman who gave me saag without asking for anything.

Travel didn't solve my problems. The rent is still due. The job is still the same. But my reaction to these problems is different. Slower. Calmer.

Practical Advice for Pakistani Travelers (No Nonsense)

If you want to do this too, here is what you actually need:

• A friend with an old car. Doesn't matter if AC works. Just matters if the engine starts.
• No hotel booking. Just reach and negotiate. Prices drop 40% if you look tired and local.
• Cash. Most places in Nathia Gali, Khaira Gali, and nearby have no card machines.
• Power bank. Electricity goes out randomly. Accept it.
• No itinerary. The best moments – the dhaba chai, the broken car, the old woman – come when you have no plan.

Do not go with a checklist. Do not go for Instagram. Go because you are tired. Go because your mind needs a break. Go because you want to remember what silence sounds like.

Final Words (From My Heart)

I am not a changed man. I still waste hours on my phone. I still get angry in traffic. But now, every two months, I take that 2 AM decision. I text Usman. We get into his broken Mehran. We eat at that dhaba. We break down somewhere. We sit in the dark. We come back dirty and tired.

And somehow, for a few days after, life feels lighter.

You don't need a passport to travel. You don't need a big budget. You just need to leave. Tonight. Tomorrow morning. Whenever.

Just leave.

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Have you done a trip like this? Tell me in the comments below. Or don't. Just go book a bus ticket.