I just received a text message from my friend Maddie in England, telling me that Benazir Bhutto has been killed about an hour ago in Rawalpindi - Islamabad's neighbouring city, a mere 15 km apart - in a suicide bomb attack. As my TV in the hotel doesn't work, I went down to reception, only to have these news confirmed by the ashen-faced receptionists. Everybody is standing around in silence, not quite knowing what to say or do. I'm feeling rather shocked. I was supposed to be in Rawalpindi this afternoon - I had planned to go to the bazaars in [View Full Entry]

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It's Christmas Day in Islamabad. Actually, it isn't - it's the birthday of Pakistan's founder Mohammad Ali Jinnah, so there's a public holiday here, too. But I've been wished 'Merry Christmas' many times over today by well-meaning Pakistanis, who are very surprised when I tell them 'thank you very much, but I am not a Christian'. Earlier, when I had a picnic in the sunny Rose Garden, a young man approached me, handed me a beautiful pink rose and said 'Merry Christmas', before disappearing amongst the trees. Bless. I arrived back in Islamabad three days ago, and I have to say [View Full Entry]

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It's been a while since I last posted on this blog - this was due to being in the freezing Hindu Kush mountains, where internet access is sparse, if existent at all. We left for Chitral on 11th December, via propeller plane. Chitral is pretty cut off from the rest of Pakistan, as you can only get there by plane (which is frequently cancelled due to bad weather conditions) or over the Lowari Pass, which isn't really an option at this time of the year, due to snow. It's a lovely little town, and the people there are again completely different. [View Full Entry]

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'Welcome to the North West Frontier Province - Land of Hospitality', a big sign proclaims as we take the Grand Trunk Road from Islamabad to Peshawar. I have met Abdul, our Pakistani driver, and my British travel companions at Islamabad airport, and together, we are heading towards Peshawar and Pakistan's North-West Frontier in a minibus. We are eight people, including Stanley, our guide. As soon as we leave Islamabad, the atmosphere around us changes. Everything feels lighter and softer here: I see smiling faces, waving children, and intrigued gazes, although the weapons are still ever-present [View Full Entry]

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It's Dark Moon and I am in Islamabad. It feels quite strange to be in a place I have previously only seen on the news, mostly in regard to political unrest and bombs. The way Islamabad is portrayed in the media, you almost expect to arrive in a warzone - but things feel relatively normal here. There are big wide streets, cars, people, just like everywhere else - but there is a difference, and that difference is in the atmosphere. I arrived in Lahore last night, after spending the day on planes and at Delhi airport - I remembered once again [View Full Entry]

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The wonderful thing about travel is that synchronistic events happen pretty much all of the time. It was a drab Monday morning in Kathmandu, and as I had an appointment in the afternoon, I was not too sure what to do with myself for the next few hours. After breakfast, I bumped into a German woman I had previously met at Shivapuri, and during our conversation, she told me about a well-known Nepalese shaman called Mohan Rai, who runs a shamanic research centre just outside Kathmandu. 'You could go there now', she suggested, 'it's only half an hour by taxi.' Right [View Full Entry]

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Oh, malaise. I've been doing so well for all this time travelling, but the traveller's bug had to get me sometime. After a delicious meal on Wednesday night, which somehow didn't agree with me, I spent all of Thursday between my bed in Shivapuri cottage and the toilet, with awful nausea, cramps, diarrhoea and vomiting. I don't think I've ever felt that sick. However, as I said the next day, I had 'Glueck im Unglueck' (German for 'fortune within misfortune') - in the midst of all that agony I felt quite blessed that I had the bug in a comfortable cottage [View Full Entry]

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It had to happen sometime: two-and a half months of near-constant travelling, new places, new people, new experiences are finally catching up with me. Feeling more than a bit worn out and tired, I've been hiding high above Kathmandu valley for the past few days, in a fantastic little cottage called Shivapuri Heights, owned by an Englishman called Steve and staffed by a lovely young Tibetan-Nepali man called Sonam and a fabulous cook called Jaspa. Shivapuri Heights towers on a hill on the edge of the Shivapuri National Park (where you can spot leopards and monkeys, if you're lucky), and near [View Full Entry]

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It is now clear to me why they call the road between Tibet and Nepal the 'Friendship Highway'. When you spend a week or so in a jeep with each other, driving for most of the day through the dramatic, vast and empty landscapes, challenged by cold and altitude, you have two choices: you start hating each other's guts, or you become good friends. Luckily for us, the latter applied. The drive can become especially amusing if you discover that some of the people you are travelling with have the same childish sense of humour as you. Emilie and I discovered [View Full Entry]

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Yes, Tibet is cold. I am now in Shigatse, on the road from Lhasa to Kathmandu. I am travelling with Emilie, a Swiss woman called Natalie, a driver, and a 'guide'. I say 'guide', because the man, who has a hoarse voice similar to Marlon Brando in 'The Godfather', takes his duties very lightly. He is mute most of the time, and when we ask him for some information, he mumbles monosyllabic replies or gives blatantly wrong answers. Emilie asked him the other day what the name of a big mountain overlooking a big lake on the way was. He mused [View Full Entry]

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