'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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Sometimes, having a bad sense of direction is a good thing. This morning, Emily, Max, Luna and I left our hostel at 6 am, ready to catch the pilgrim’s bus at 6. 30 am to the remote Gamden Monastery in the mountains outside Lhasa. After an hour’s drive, we arrived at Gamden when it was still dark. As the monastery is at an altitude of about 4700 m and I hadn’t had breakfast, I felt a bit dizzy and out of breath. The pilgrims and tourists all hurried up the path to the monastery, but I decided to hang on a [View Full Entry]

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I am now in Tibet. I arrived in Lhasa on Sunday night after the most relaxing and luxurious train ride of my life. After the Russian and Chinese trains I had been on, train T 27 from Beijing to Lhasa was simply incredible. I entered a very new, modern train which was gliding smoothly through the rugged Chinese landscape like a jaguar. I shared my plush compartment, complete with private television screen, very comfortable bed with real duvet and oxygen outlet, with an American rock climber called Tree and a vivacious young man from Hong Kong called Chan. We spent the [View Full Entry]

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For some reason, I didn't expect to like China, but actually, I am enjoying my time here immensely. Somehow, I have managed to avoid the crowds by staying away from the major tourist spots, and hence I found being in Beijing really relaxing. Being at the quiet Templeside House Hostel (www.templeside.com) has been a treat as well, as Bobby and his delightful staff have made my stay very special with their hospitality. What really gets me is how friendly the Chinese people are: extremely obliging and helpful, in particular when I get lost (once in a while), and although everyone in [View Full Entry]

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