This wallet-shrinking experience was curiously summative and representative of my experience in Pakistan. Surprises that forced me to reconsider my previous conceptions of this much-maligned land and make me suspect that I worry too much abound, and I am consistently humbled by just how much I do not know about the real world and how much I am yet to explore.

For starters, Pakistan and India might be two separate countries post-Partition that profess to have Islam and Hinduism respectively as their official main religion, but they are tightly and inextricably linked, culturally and historically.

The first similarity that I spotted between Pakistan and India is language. Listening to the Pakistani locals speak and the endless chain of Urdu songs set on repeat on the stereos of the countless Pakistani buses we survived, I struggle to spot differences between Urdu (the Pakistani national language) and Hindi (the Indian national language). I initially attributed this inability to differentiate between the two languages to my lack of knowledge of them, but I soon found out from Leo, our trekking guide and host during our Hunza Valley stay, that Urdu is in fact very similar to Hindi. Only a few words are different, so much so that Pakistanis do listen to popular Hindi songs imported from India and watch Hindi Bollywood movies.

Next is sartorial similarities. Salwar kameez is a term used in both countries to refer to loose-fitting traditional wear. For the males, it is a shirt with extra long ends, paired with loose pants that are similar to breeches. This rather utilitarian clothing (it is light and loose, great for warm weather) is worn in both countries, albeit with differing regularity and styles. The Indians wear theirs in tighter fits, and the young are less likely to be seen dressed in them, as they are more westernised and ditch traditional clothing for their branded Levi's. On the other hand the salwar kameez is ubiquitous in Pakistan, so much so that as a traveller it is wise to tailor a salwar suit and wear it so as to blend in with the local crowd. Perhaps this difference in popularity is also a reflection of the conservatism of the respective societies, with Pakistanis less affected by foreign culture and adhering more to their traditions.

Biryani is a staple dish of both countries. Everywhere we go, the one thing we can trust to be present (and, more importantly, we are confident of pronouncing properly without attracting blank stares) in the menu is biryani. The various incantations served (hygienic or otherwise) at eateries are just variations on the same theme. The Indians do their biryani with stronger spices, and colour the rice yellow and red. In India biryani is always available in vegetarian and non-vegetarian versions. However in Pakistan, meat is ever present and vegetarians will find themselves struggling to find vegetarian dishes. Biryani in Pakistan has subtler spices and the rice has the colour of yam rice.

Even their sensibilities with regard to decoration of vehicles are similar. While the shape of the traditional Pakistani goods truck resembles that of a beluga whale with its enlarged forehead and the Indian truck looks more like a conventional truck, both the Pakistanis and Indians have a habit of painting their trucks with intricate decorations painted in gaudy colours, a curious tradition that I am yet to find out the origins of.

The sense of enmity which continually pervades the official Indian-Pak relationship is nowhere to be felt on the streets. The continued conflict over Kashmir and the various terrorist attacks that were committed on Indian soil has marred official relations between the governments of the two countries, but this history of bad blood is not imprinted on everyday life. Pakistanis live their lives just as we would back in Singapore. The people on the ground so to speak are alright with the Indians.

While crossing the border to Pakistan, I met a Pakistani man and his wife, both garbed in traditional Pakistani attire and crossing in the same direction as us. He was on good terms with the Indian immigration officer and it was all smiles and laughter between them. Of course, there is the occassional expression of dislike for Pakistan; the group of young Sikh men we met in the Golden Temple said that Pakistan is not a good place to go. Interestingly, I did not meet a Pakistani who had something bad to say about India.

Given the tight informal relationship between Pakistan and India, it is sad that historical forces and perhaps sheer dumb luck have resulted in the present-day situation where 2 countries have emerged from the end of British colonialism and Gandhi's vision of a united India is nothing but a distant, vain dream. If Pakistan has remained with India, it is likely that it would not ended up being generally regarded as a failed state today.

For all its power cuts, smog and inefficiencies, Pakistan itself is a fascinatingly complex country, despite its small size and the tendency of the press to simplify Pakistan as just another Muslim country. Sure, virtually the entire population are Muslims, but an entire range of attitudes towards the religion exists amongst the people. On one hand devotion to Islam can be seen everywhere. Calls for prayer are broadcasted through the loudspeakers of mosques during set periods everyday, all over the country. On the bus ride from Aliabad to Rawalpindi, I found it interesting to observe that despite having driven through the entire night on empty stomachs, the Pakistanis that shared our bus stopped in the middle of nowhere to pray at a ramshackle mosque first, before proceeding to a rest stop an hour or so away for a late dinner. Even in the mountains, we found makeshift mosques in the shephard's villages.

Yet the reach of globalisation and westernisation is unstoppable. Slowly perhaps but surely, it is only a matter of time before local mores and western influence intermingle, the youths adopt most aspects of foreign culture and traditions recede in significance, as have happened for most progressing Eastern nations. The most telling sign I have observed is the mannerisms of the youngish people in Hunza Valley. Leo and Mumtaz (Leo's university friend) for example use Facebook regularly, speak (or at least attempt to speak) English with an American drawl, hums James Blunt songs while trekking and spot distinctively liberal attitudes towards booze and sex that one would not expect to see readily from Muslims. Leo told us that he likes Obama, and talks freely about girls and Indian-Pak relations. He even smuggled Hunza wine for us to sample, an act that would surely be considered to be haram by many Muslims.

On top of this range of attitudes towards Islam, add the various denominations of Islam that exist in Pakistan, from Shia and Shi'ite to the mystic Sufi faith, and you have a heady and perhaps confusing miasma of religious beliefs.

While Pakistan's cultural depth has its own allure, the genuine warmth and innocent sincerity of the Pakistani people struck me most and left me with the most pleasant impressions.

Comparisons will inevitably be drawn since I backpacked both India and Pakistan, and what I perceive about Pakistan is almost always by relative comparison to what I experienced in India. It is my opinion that Pakistanis as a whole are generally a more genuine and sincere people than the Indians I have encountered. They are less touched by the kind of hungry, money-grabbing mindset that capitalism promotes, and are instead more informed by a genuine need to treat foreigners well with no hidden agenda. This is especially so for the northern Pakistanis. I read in Lonely Planet that the Islamic faith regards visitors as gifts from God and their appearance is a manifestation of God's grace, and I am see this attitude manifested in the way the Pakistanis treat us.

For once in my backpacking days (may it last for a long time, if not forever), I feel like a undeserving rock star, a true blue unique specimen of the human race, a walking (and often relucatnt) antenna for attention, which is rather surreal because I am otherwise just another student travelling on a shoestring budget. We sat in Lawrence Gardens in Lahore hoping to spend some quiet smog-free time with our reading materials but we ended up being handshaking ambassadors for China (and occassionally Singapore). Pakistanis come up to you and shake your hand, asking the standard set of questions (e.g. "Where you from?", "What do you do?", "Do you know kung fu?"). I was initially wary of them and approached them with a guarded heart, for fear of being duped into some scam or crime, but we soon realised that it is their nature to be so friendly to absolute strangers that do not even subscribe to their religion.

In fact, even the unsavoury aspect of backpacking is somehow milder in Pakistan. Touts are everywhere in both countries, but Pakistani autorickshaw touts actually help you, even after you have rejected his proposed deal (which probably has an inflated price). I was quite impressed by the numerous occasions where touts helped us without asking for reward. That said, the same can be found in India, even though my experience tells me this happens with lesser frequency in India. I remember an elderly old man who sells jeep rides out of Darjeeling approaching us and trying to help us, only to be rejected rudely by us because we thought he is just another tout. We ended up red-faced as we had to rely on his help in the end after we realised that we were stuck.

Forget also the grim and solemn picture that the media paints of Pakistanis. They are as fun-loving as any other culture. They obsess over cricket just as Indians do, and joke easily. The Hunza people in particular are a remarkably peaceful people (Leo remarked to us that there is one thing we will never find in Hunza, and that is violent crime), despite being close neighbours of the tribal Pashtuns in the Tribal areas and the Afghan extremists that hide in the mountains west of Hunza Valley. Despite their overt religiosity with the call for prayer never failing to echo throughout anywhere we went, they share their country readily with outsiders. Eating at restaurants often results in conversations initiated by Pakistanis. In fact we met on two separate occasions two Pakistanis who conversed with us in fluent Mandarin while eating our meal at eateries.

Speaking of language, the impression that Pakistan is an insular society cordoned-off from the rest of the world in stubborn isolation is inaccurate. I was startled when the man serving coffee to me at a street stall in a local market told me that he lived and worked in France for 10 years (if I remember correctly) and could speak French. After saying that, he waved to a friend who was passing by and told me that his friend worked in Germany and could speak German. As mentioned earlier the youths of Pakistan are already exhibiting the effects of western influence. I expected internet access to be hard to obtain, but it turned out to more available than I thought it would be. Even in Hunza Valley, miles from Islamabad with the treacherous Karakorum Highway snaking in between, there were internet cafes that provided reasonable access.

The most curious and peculiar thing about Pakistanis is that they can be so friendly and helpful that they are almost... irritating. It is similar to having a goody-two-shoes friend who always looks out for you and helps you, sometimes almost being in your face with his kindness, or a hyperactive charity worker. In short, they are too nice. It is tiresome after a while to have to engage in repetitive conversations about the same things, especially when a significant portion of people I have met refuse to register the fact that I told him I am from Singapore and insist that I am in fact Chinese Chinese, and it exacerbates already tense nerves caused by, amongst other things, the frequent power blackouts, intense heat, suffocating smog and bumpy dangerous bus rides.

Yet deep inside I always remind myself that this is not a fault but rather a positive thing. Being waylaid by overenthusiastic and misinformed locals always beats being murdered by extremists. Also the almost childlike innocence that pervades their interactions with me was very attractive. You don't see such sincerity in big city countries, and there was some charm and definitely much humour in the fact that many Pakistanis I encountered had the impression that all Chinese automatically knew kungfu by virtue of their race. There is something pure in their enthusiasm, and I am deeply grateful to be the recipient of countless expressions of their grace.

Leo commented that the people in Hunza Valley has lost quite a bit of hope post 9/11, as the once booming tourism business in Hunza was reduced to naught almost overnight as staying foreigners fled the country and their compatriots at home avoided Pakistan like the plague. It is sad to see such a fate befall a genuinely good-natured and pleasant people, who practise moderate Islam and has nothing to do with any of the black sheep extremists that perpetrated the 9/11 atrocities. I hope that now that a more enlightened American government is firmly in place, things will change for the better for Pakistan as a whole.

I watched the border-closing ceremony at Wagah from the Indian side with a tinge of sadness. I was leaving Pakistan and I will not be returning for a long time. This was probably my last real encounter with Pakistan for a long time. Watching the more staid and grim Pakistani supporters and the fierce-looking Pakistani guards clad in jet black uniform from the stands at the Indian side of the border while being surrounded by masses of cheering Indians, I knew deep inside that the Pakistanis are more than what they appear to be. The real Pakistan is not as uptight as one would suppose it to be, not even half as unfriendly as commonly portrayed. While I was physically in the Indian stands, deep inside I secretly cheered for the Pakistanis.

At the start of the trip, I had almost no intention of revisiting Pakistan. It was a prize destination for the sole fact that it gave me opportunities to brag about how I have visited such a "dangerous" and "backward" place and managed to survive it, and what were supposed to be left of my trip were passport stamps from the Pakistani immigration which I can show to others to prove that I managed to brave Pakistan.

But now that I have (hopefully) seen it for what it really is, I really want to revisit Pakistan in the future, for, amongst many other things, the majestic mountains, culture and warm and sincere people. There are many other places yet to be explored, like Peshawar and Quetta. Meanwhile I dream about and hold fondly with me the unforgettable days spent exploring the misunderstood gem that is Pakistan.

---

End note: We watched Pakistan win the ICC T20 Cricket World Cup at Bengaluru Airport while waiting for our flight. We hypothesised that our flight departed late because the Indians were glued to their TV screens. At any rate, it's about time the fellas had their spot of luck and their day in the sun. Leo and his friends must be celebrating now, way back in the mountains.