Things are settling down in Pakistan, and life has been inching towards normality in the twin cities of Islamabad and Rawalpindi over the last few days. The 'miscreants', 'mischief-mongers' and 'anti-social elements', as the newspapers call them, have mainly been refraining from creating civil unrest. The shops and markets are open again, public transport has been re-instated, petrol is available, and the people have come out of their houses. The PPP flags are still flying high, the debates about the now postponed election and the cause of BB's death rage on, but life inevitably goes on. I spend my days drifting, talking to random strangers, walking in parks, shopping, doing little excursions to nearby villages and shrines, and visiting families. Islamabad is an incredibly sociable city: I meet new people every day, and could easily spend ... read more

In this morning's newspaper, I read that foreign travellers in Pakistan are advised to stay in their lodgings for the moment until the situation becomes clear. As Islamabad is relatively quiet, I venture out to test the waters two days after the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. The streets are more lively than yesterday - there are some taxis whose drivers try to get my attention by slowing down and calling to me, and there is a long queue of cars, blocking half of College Road, trying to get into the petrol station - there was a petrol strike yesterday. Armed policemen supervise the road. A 40 day mourning period has been declared in the tribal areas, and the protests, violence and standstills throughout the country continue. I read a poignant column in the paper by Shireen ... read more

Islamabad is a very sad city today. After yesterday's assassination of ex-prime minister Benazir Bhutto, three days of national mourning have been declared, and everything is closed: the markets, the shops, the bazaars. There are no taxis, no form of public transport. An eerie silence has befallen the deserted streets. Occasionally, small groups of people cluster together by the roadside. They look dejected, defeated, angry. In the process of moving hotels earlier, I pass some road blocks; young people stand around street fires and debris. There have been violent riots on the streets of many Pakistani cities last night, as people were expressing their anger and grief. Zafar, my new host, looks like he has been crying when I arrive at the guesthouse. Looking at me through sad eyes, he says, 'Today is a very sad ... read more

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 the Old City - but then changed my plans because I felt tired and wanted to check out a few guesthouses in Islamabad. Only this morning I wrote into my journal how much I am ... read more

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 that this time my perception of the city is completely different - in particular after spending much time in Peshawar, Chitral and the North-West Frontier Province. Islamabad seems very calm in comparison, and is actually ... read more

'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. Colourfully painted trucks pass us on the road on this grey foggy and dull day. I notice that the petrol stations all have mosques or prayer places attached to them. On the sidewalk, I see a woman wearing a full white ... read more

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 why I hate this type of travel: just lots of waiting around at sterile airports. The only thing I like about flying is that you don't have to worry about your luggage once you're checked ... read more

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 that moment, my incredibly handsome Nepalese friend Bishal came around the corner, and he said, 'You want to go to Naikap? Go by bus - why spend 500 rupees if you can go for 10?' ... read more