The street is crowded with people. They are almost all men. Some move busily absorbed in their personal business, others clump in and out of the various shops open along the road. The sound of a horn is a warning for secluding yourself and let a car or a motorcycle pass, or even one of the highly decorated and colorful trucks. The sun has set since a while now, but August’s heat remains exhausting even after sunset. The air charged with humidity and the heat from the fires lit in the various restaurants, bakeries and rotisseries makes it even more sultry. But I gladly endure it. To wander these streets gives a good feeling.

Peshawar is a tangle of alleys, but it has its own order. I noticed it during the morning. Each street seems dedicated to an activity. And so, there is the shoes street, that of clothing, that of jewelry, that of the fruit and vegetable market. I move together with my friends and with my camera, greedy for images to capture. Behind us, two armed police officers with bulletproof vests. They are in charge of escorting us and are our inseparable companions every time we leave the hotel. Every noise catches my eye and, at every corner, there’s a scene that tells a story.

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A boy walks in the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, he stops and looks at me with intrigued air. As soon as we have eye contact, he makes a grin, an expression of disbelief that ends being funny. I hardly manage to hold back a laugh that turns into a kind of smile, and I rise my hand as a form of greetings. He responds with his hand and, reconsidering his initial direction, gets to walk along me. The conversation begins like all the many others during the day: how am I? What is my name? Where do I come from? What am I doing in Peshawar? 'I'm on a journey around Pakistan as a tourist,' I reply. He seems to genuinely reflect on it. And from there, the question you don't expect: 'But why in Pakistan?' I open my mouth but this time the answer does not seem to come out so immediately. So obviously.

I realize, I had never asked myself that question. Not even a few months before when, almost without thinking, I decided to take this tour. Due to the COVID pandemic, more than a year had passed since my latest trip and, browsing through various proposals, Pakistan seemed like the opportunity arrived at the right moment. At the end of the day, some decisions are not actually taken. They come at you, and you realize that there is nothing to decide.

But there, in Peshawar, one day before my flight back, the question made sense. A different sense perhaps, a sense of evaluation in retrospect: 'What has been Pakistan for me? '

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The trip had begun fifteen days earlier in Islamabad. Just few hours to settle in and have a first contact with the people on the streets of nearby Rawalpindi and, at the first light of the next day, we were flying to Gilgit. Destination: the Hunza valley. A few kilometers south of the Wakhan corridor, stretched along the homonymous river at the geographical point where the Karakorum ranges meets the Hindu Kush, this valley offers extremely spectacular views. I dare any visitor who wander along it, to remain indifferent in front of the view offered by kilometer-long glaciers that give rise to countless streams and waterfalls, or by lakes with changing colors, all surrounded by gigantic snow-covered peaks many of which exceed 7000 meters. The stay in this region was marked by close contact with the people. So close that we had lunch and dinner with them, and, on one occasion, slept in their home. It is the magic of travel, which attracts the wayfarer and the local, so different in uses and customs, and connects them in a link of spontaneous friendship probably fueled by curiosity towards the exotic. And here in a remote village near Passu, we were smiling guests at a wedding banquet, almost as if we were part of the family. The celebrations, both during the wedding and for its preparation during the previous days, are rich in symbolic gestures, excellent gastronomy, traditional music and dances.

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Leaving Hunza, through a couple of days long journey, we moved west in the Chitral area to spend a few days among the Kalash the picturesque ethnic group that populates an area of ​​northern Pakistan, limited to three valleys at the foot of Hindu Kush range within sight of the border with Afghanistan. Their somatic features characterized by light skin and eyes, although contaminated over the centuries by relations with neighboring people, are evidence of a genetic origin distinct from that of the rest of the Pakistani population. The Kalash belong to a Eurasian indigenous group, traditionally linked to an animist-type religion. Unlike their neighbors in ancient Kafiristan, who, over time, converted to Islam, the Kalash have stubbornly kept their religious and cultural identity alive. The Kalash economy appears to be basic but self-sufficient. Agriculture and livestock provide primary necessities. Construction and garment production are also largely managed within the community. Many of the customs and celebrations of the past remain. On a superficial analysis, it would seem that the Kalash people are among those few communities that remain tied to traditions and resist the pressure of globalization. However, it is interesting to note some aspects that could mark the beginning of a change. On the edge of one of the most "observed" areas in the world, immersed in a state with a strong Islamic identity, seduced like the rest of the world by the call of technology, the Kalash community is a fascinating place for those who love to travel and for those who want to try to imagine how it will evolve over the next few years.

 

From the valleys of the Kalash we then headed to Peshawar to spend there the last days of our trip. A city whose history dates back to ancient times, and which certainly reserves new developments in the times to come, for better or for worse.

Which brings me back to my extemporaneous friend and his pending question. At the end of the day, this journey got me where I wanted to be without me actually being aware of where it was. It made me live an authentic experience immersed in people's everyday life, sharing their experiences with mine, and exploring our cultural differences. It made me feel the warmth of hospitality. It showed me that curiosity is a great catalyst for getting to know the others. Obviously all accompanied by extraordinary views. And that's why, my dear friend, I choose to travel to Pakistan.