Lahore is 29 kilometers from the India-Pakistan border—it feels about 2900 miles away from India. The people are the largest difference. The Pakistani people have a sense of life. The streets are heaving with people whom smile, laugh, live and share. The streets are not that much cleaner and the air quality is perhaps the worst I have inhaled, but the ambiance is as relaxed as it gets. A copious amount of Afghani hash being smoked by everyone adds to this.

On our first night we were waiting for a man and his son to squeeze our orange juice and another Pakistani insisted on paying for our tipple. With the biggest of smiles, he waved off our protests and simply asked that we show the same hospitality to Pakistanis in our country. This convivial atmosphere never ceased for a moment during the week we spent in Lahore.

Malik, the owner of the Regal Internet Inn, is the man to know in Lahore. He was a journalist for over twenty years and the personal advisor to prime ministers, pre Mussaref. Malik arranged the best seats in the Mosque for Sufi music and even complementary dinner after. The music was esoteric and rhythmically astute. The mythical ‘drunken Sufis’ were in full affect, swaying their heads in collusion with the haunting signing and instrumentations. Rose water gently misted down upon the crowds sitting on the Mosque floor as men distributed sweets and water. Showers of ten rupees notes floated from the above the musicians whenever the mood struck a member of the crowd.

Outside, the streets of the Old City wound through time and space. Foods of various concoctions fried, steamed and boiled away whilst men and their sons made heaps of supple naan. Prayer calls echoed along cobbled alleys laid millennia before. Men and boys ambled along the streets with smiles and happy salutations. Whenever boys or men struck up a conversation with me it was out of genuine interest and pertinent questions and conversation ensued: a refreshing contrast from India where nearly every engagement by the locals was to fleece you in someway.

The most refreshing aspect were the travelers at the Inn. The people there were not clad in the Indian tourist ‘uniform’ of baggy linens, beads, feathers, sandals and bindis. They wore clothing that suited them, their clothing. According to India seven million people visit their country every year. Less than 50,000 visit Pakistan. Most of the travelers had already traveled through Iran to get there or were on their way: another refreshing departure from the usual India, Thailand, Indonesia crowd. These travelers thought nothing of going to places like Chitral or Peshawar—much less the occasional stray 7.62 that came through the roof of our accommodation. Though, even they thought us ‘crazy’ and with ‘huge balls’ for going to Afghanistan. Surprisingly, there are several women traveling the Iran, Pakistan route by themselves and successfully.

Lahore itself has no tourist ghetto like Thamel in Kathmandu or Colaba in Mumbai. It is purely what it is. The Sufi nights were not scheduled with a show every half-an-hour so the Lonely Planet crowd could get their snapshots of local culture. Even the Fort and main Mosque, though extremely beautiful and pleasant, is there for the locals first and visitors second.

A week was spent in the Pakistani capital of Punjab. At first I was confounded how so few came to such a great place then I became happy that most of those traveling India did not consider (as more than one tourist I met in India put it) Pakistan as a place they could go—for if they were there, it would only lead to its ruin.

The most interesting aspect is the media. Western media considers Pakistan to be the largest exporter of terrorist. Pakistan seems stuck somewhere between. Egyptians and Uzbek fundamentalist use the countries remote regions to train and are brushed over as Pakistani since they are in Pakistan. And when I say remote, I’m talking on the scale of the Denali or Kamchatka with an antediluvian tribal system. Currently, Pakistani Tribes in the NWFP have been fighting these ‘intruders’. According to local media they have killed over 250 Al-Queda affiliated terrorists in the last two weeks. The BBC just reported that fighting ‘broke out’ yesterday. Hum.

There seems to be a divide brewing in Pakistan amongst the fundamentalist Pakistani Taliban, whom instead of locking women in the home has them as a vital facet of their fighting force, and the rest of the country. I refer to some 200 girls in Islamabad that have taken over a girl’s college because they don’t want education. Clever bastards. Mussaref seems to be ignoring the issue, knowing that if he vanquishes them he will be spat upon as an Islamic extremist and if he capitulates the Pakistani Taliban will only gain ground. What to do? I’m sure the Fox News crowd has so many solutions, even if they haven’t set foot here.

And then there is the Jundalah. A force of terrorist funded and trained by the USA, in Pakistan. They operate attacks within Iran against the military, police and civilians. In their last attack, in Iran, they murdered (verbs are so important) 11 Iranian Revolutionary Guards in an ambush on a city bus. I’m sure that that policy will turn out well for the White House.

I’m in Peshawar now. Yes, the Peshawar of yore that all of you history majors read about: Alexander, Genghis, Osama, CIA, etc. They have all been here, the latter still obviously is. The city is 4000-years-old. It is a brilliant mix of Pakistani and Afghani and one is smart to wear a Shalwar – as not to stand out too much. Osama himself is thought to be in the mountains somewhere in this state. And given its vastness (aforementioned), it would not surprise me: it gives the old cliché ‘needle in a haystack’ a futile meaning. Tomorrow I will go to Gun Town and shoot Pakistani made AK-47s. To me none of this seems odd, much less dangerous. This is traveling and I am a traveler.