Written by Leanna M. Totten
Born in 1999, I grew up in the concoction of post-9/11 surveillance, war, US-interest propaganda, and the billions of dollars spent to uphold it all. Traveling to this South Asian country that borders the Middle East, I held awareness that being from the United States created false perceptions and realities. Saying yes to an expedition that removed the Western glasses from my North American eyeballs was an easy decision. Besides some cultural research, I purposely went into this expedition with few expectations. Boarding my plane in Los Angeles, I was eager for all Pakistan offered and to chase the rooted sense of humanity shared across the globe.
I've never had a country pour it’s heart out to me like this. Pakistan is such a raw, adventurous, but most importantly, misunderstood country -Chad, expedition member
Lahore: The Old City
October 6, 2021: Emily, Clara, and I landed after 2:00 AM and met Will, Eli, and Imran at the Allama Iqbal International Airport. I was relieved to pass my mental reins to the people who planned everything moving forward. As the introductions and excitement ended, Emily, Clara, and I fell asleep around 5:00 AM. Since we were waiting for the rest of the group, that day was not an official day of the expedition. Regardless, we later awoke to day zero in Lahore.
If I had not previously been to Haiti, specifically Port-au-Prince, the streets of Lahore would have scared me back to the hotel room. But I knew to expect chaotically organized traffic, busy markets, and hard-working people with places to be. The mix of infrastructure styles made the rich history impossible to miss. Having existed since before the 7th century, the heartbeat of Lahore was steady and strong. Markets with an array of goods lined the main streets and tucked into cozy alleyways below apartments. Drying laundry strewn across windows connected neighbors through thin air. Above the city, dozens of raptors circled in the open skies sharing occasional screeches with each other. Down below, heat from large, woodburning stoves united with the humid air as we weaved through crowds, sounds, and colors. Prayers from mosques poured out of loudspeakers, adding to the street noise of honking, motorcycle engines, and words of Urdu. But if you listened closely, you could hear the laughter surrounding the preparation of chapati by street cooks and the mini moats of gray water flowing on either side of the street. Looking deeper into the vibrancy, there are words of justice written on walls, a grounded, communal love, and small animals making homes in the cracks of historic buildings.
Our expedition group! Top row: Clara, Eli, Will, Imran, Cora, Chad; bottom: Alexa, Kelli, Leanna, Emily
That night, we were invited to Saiem’s apartment, a friend of Will’s. We were still missing two people in our group but it was nice to loosen up with the strangers I would be with for the next two weeks. Pakistan is a dry country, so you cannot just walk to a market and buy alcohol. But alas, booze (and other things) find its way. Learning more about each other, we drank, danced, and stayed up until 5:00 AM once again.
After fidgeting with my headscarf for what felt like 20 minutes, we were off on our official first day of the expedition. As we walked to our first destination, a bus full of people drove by, and my eyes met their beaming smiles. They waved at us with obvious excitement, Welcome! one girl even shouted across the way. We visited the Lahore Fort, where we saw staircases big enough for elephants. No, really, royals used to ride elephants up the oversized steps. There was one garden with massive trees that were 200 and 400 years old. People sat under them with cups of tea to stay out of the afternoon sun. I smiled under my mask, pondering all the people who previously sought shade under the trees; and how relieving it is that some things about being human never change. The Badshahi Mosque was the largest and most crowded mosque we walked through. Being a group of tourists brought us plenty of attention, and everyone was asked for selfies. I took a few with some younger girls but found myself feeling uncomfortable. The act of being an outsider met with so much intrigue was something I never experienced before. In a country where I knew women live private lives, it felt strange to be at the center of so much attention, especially in a religious space. We later entered a Sufi mosque, the Wazir Khan Mosque. Sufi, described as the mysticism of Islam, was presented with intricate, colorful patterns and text from the Quran that covered every square inch of the walls and ceiling. The air inside was still and I sat with Imran for a few moments attempting to ground myself. The discomfort I was feeling lingered, but in my exhales, was released.
Photos by Eli S., Cora S. & Kelli V.
Alt text includes photo locations
That evening, we drove to a border crossing in Punjab, where Pakistan and India meet. Will told us that we were going to a border ceremony, but I was confused about what that entailed. After walking through many security checkpoints and past photos of military personnel, we took our seats in a stadium looking upon the green gate of Pakistan and the red gate of India. The deadly Partition of India after World War II, enduring standoffs over the disputed land of Jammu and Kashmir, and bureaucratic drama make up the recent history between Pakistan and India. As more people arrived, this border ceremony felt more like a football game than a clash of bloody legacies. Pakistani children wore green and white face paint, an announcer boomed over speakers to hype the crowd, and workers walked up and down steps with snacks and drinks for sale. The ceremony began. Men beat drums to a perfect beat for Pakistani soldiers to march to as they approached the gate. Back and forth they went, stomping and marching with high kicks like gymnasts. The announcer led the cheering crowds through pro-Pakistan chants, competing with the announcer and crowd noises from India. With time, the gates opened and the kicks rose with even more intensity. On a large scale, this daily military ceremony is a lot better than war. It was a family event that brought a lot of excitement and pride to those who attended. I lack knowledge and context to truly ponder how harm may come from a seemingly-nationalistic practice. Coupled with coming from a country founded on white supremacy, those continued systems of violence, and a military budget more than the budgets of the following 10 countries combined, critiquing any nationalism seems hypocritical. Through division and hardship, Pakistanis celebrating pride in their country seemed to be a necessity for their collective joy.
Islamabad: The New City
October 10, 2021: A four-hour bus ride through farmlands and foothills took us to our next destination, Islamabad. In a twisted way, this city was a relief for my Western self. The infrastructure was newer and in better condition, shops felt more accessible, and the houses reminded me of California. Being the capital, it is a hub for government and international workers, along with the standards they bring. At dinner, I felt the toll of overstimulation that comes with travel, sleep deprivation, and putting my well-being in the hands of three trip organizers for the next two weeks. After a tremendous thunderstorm, I slept for 13 hours.
At this point, all of the group members had arrived, and I felt more comfortable being myself. Smoking a lot of hash one night helped speed up that process, of course. Exploring Islamabad together, we witnessed the quiet tradition of calligraphy by Wasil Shahid and the birdsongs of a humid forest hike overlooking the Faisal Mosque. The progressive media company, The Centrum Media, pushes boundaries through stories told by prisoners, gypsies, transgender folks, and more. We sat down with the founder, Talha, for lunch. Confidence filled my voice as I shared my opinions during our discussion on foreign aid that never reaches the people. Inspiring innovations poured out of a start-up company, the National Incubation Center, that held workplace standards I have only dreamt of. Collaborative spaces, a childcare room, an accessible CEO, and a story of a kitchen assistant now running the company cafe were doses of encouraging joy.
I fell in love harder than I’ve ever before. With this country, with these people, with how this experience has changed me. - Kelli, expedition member
Being a woman touring a country with different gender roles and expectations from how I was raised was a challenge. I felt eyes on me a majority of the time we spent in cities and felt the discomfort in not being greeted directly by some of the men we met. As a young, college-educated woman, differential treatment is not new to me — especially when I create or affirm boundaries. Learning to identify and weed out toxic masculinity, impairing gender roles, and overall disrespect in my inner circles has improved my confidence in young adulthood. But the combination of this discomfort and being in a new country brought similar anxiety I experienced as a young girl. Am I showing too much skin? Can I ask a question about that? Should I be smiling or nodding at the people who are staring at me? Is it bad that I don’t like the amount of gender separation I am seeing? Is it even my place to be concerned about this? The exposure to cultural differences led me to contemplate the layers of gender on an international scale.
Everyone can agree that the history of the Western and Eastern regions is complex. Cruel legacies of colonization combine with modern issues to create an extensive wicked problem, costing lives, opportunities, and peace for all it touches. Solutions for this stem from those who feel the constant sting of the systemic barriers in place. Who better to do it? The United States is told of terrorism, gender violence, and suffering in Pakistan. If the story does not include those, we hear nothing of Pakistan. But through that profitable fear-mongering, and despite all attempts to stifle it, these narratives riddle the United States as well. Are we still pretending the recent increase in white nationalist violence and crime is not terrorism? Pretending our mass incarceration problem is not predatory through a policing system created to maintain the enslavement of African hostages? That violence against women is not systemic and expected? That Christianity is completely separated from all government bodies?
Pakistan holds endless resilience, entrepreneurship, and common hospitality. Disguised through shady trade policy or white savior projects, Pakistanis do not need fraudulent heroism; they deserve partnership and transparency. The West has a duty to remove the economic and social barriers we implemented against non-Western countries (and the first step would be not murdering civilians via drone strikes). Through collaboration and cultural education, creating space for those with solutions to fulfill them is not the only step, but it is an essential one. Serving international economic and historical justice will lead us to an improved, sustainable world. A country full of intergenerational homes open to any guests, mountain villages protecting their surrounding biodiversity, and entrepreneurs creating progress can surely lead the rest of the world away from the harmful power imbalances Western profits and ideals maintain.
Gilgit-Baltistan: The North
October 13, 2021: The next time I play two truths and a lie, I get to use riding on one of the world's most dangerous highways as one of my truths. From Islamabad, we flew to Gilgit to begin our hikes in the Hindukush, Karakorum, and Himalayan mountain ranges. After breakfast by a teal river, Emily, Imran, Eli, and I piled into a retro jeep with a driver wearing a matching hat and sweater vest. I was prepared to be nervous. I was unprepared to be sitting inches away from unguarded, sheer cliffs. Did I mention I have a fear of heights? This fear quickly turned to panic-singing every song I could think of, confusing the hell out of our driver. I felt insane. Regardless, I found moments where I could not help but smile. Surrounded by mountains I did not think I would see for decades, I was grateful to have the ability to travel like this. Holding my hand out of the missing window, I felt endless and divine.
With all the natural beauty and adrenaline came a wave of altitude sickness. Not counting the jeep ride, we had just flown from ~1,700ft to ~4,500ft. There was still a hike ahead of us to Fairy Meadows, which sits at ~8,000ft. As the blood left my face and consciousness became difficult, I opened my eyes to a private security officer with a rifle strapped to his chest declaring, you drink tea! Mountain tea! Having already taken a concoction of pills from Will, tea sounded marvelous. I sipped away at an unknown, tasty herbal tea while Will and Eli took turns holding my ankles on their shoulders while talking me back to reality. Tones were less concerned as the color came back to my face, and Imran had organized a horse ride for Cora and me to get to Fairy Meadows. Grateful I was not in a jeep back down, I clung tightly to my horse led by a man who was kind enough to hold my backpack for me. Occasionally sharing glances of reassurance, Cora and I started our venture up. Taking in views looking like a calendar photo for October, my nerves from almost fainting were soothed. Nanga Parbat, the ninth tallest mountain in the world at 26,660ft, towered over us as I listened to horse hooves on the terrain, free-range goats bleating to each other, and the roaring river running through the valley below.
I’m not sure I can call Pakistan an underrated travel destination since it’s usually not even discussed enough to be “rated”, but for those who are intrepid enough to venture over, it offers a rare and spectacular experience. -Alexa, expedition member
We were greeted by brisk air as we arrived in Fairy Meadows. Cora and I walked across the grass maintained by horses, donkeys, and goats to a shared kitchen for more tea. The cottages, each equipped with a wood-burning fireplace, circled the meadow. Imran explained how they are losing many native trees by building more cottages for guests and tourists. Chainsaws, a sound I was not expecting, broke the silence of late evenings. Despite the sadness of losing glorious trees, an everchanging community grows in the forest sprawl and gives way to sheer, arid cliffs of a new climate zone.
After hiking through thin oxygen and a remote village, we arrived at the Nanga Parbat basecamp. Goosebumps came with the cold silence, and ancient wisdom filled the breeze. As I looked at peaks carved by ice, I heard echoes of the cracking glacier and croaks of ravens. With my breaths, the insignificance of being one person became enlightening. Surrounded by the harmonization of giants who have stood for thousands of years and trees who have known each other for decades, I learned the hospitality of Pakistani people thrived in their natural world as well.
It was as if Mother Nature was forcing me to feel both the pain and joy of the earth … It reminded me of the importance of mountains. Why I love to be in nature. Why we must make conscious decisions to help protect our earth. -Emily, expedition member
After enjoying a hotel on an apple orchard, local gem and crystal shops, and a cozy bonfire in Karimabad with Will’s friend, Aziz, we made our way to the next hiking destination. Fearlessness was pumping through me after singing in front of my friends at the bonfire. That, along with facing my fear of heights from the jeep ride, had charged me up for the upcoming hike underneath the 25,551ft peak of Rakaposhi. Re-grouping before the hike, to my pleasant surprise, our rest stop had naturally growing cannabis plants and some delicious rose tea. We started our ascent over an impressive dike system that brought fresh water to the people below. Switchbacks turned to scrambles as we followed the unmarked paths up to our next camping spot, Happakun. We arrived at a massive meadow to our tents already set up and an outdoor toilet with a metal door thrashing in the wind. The main tent with the kitchen and eating area was warm, so we spent most of the evening with the locals who ran the campsite. Before the sunset, I peeked out the plastic windows to take in the mountain views. Gratitude filled me once more as I silently celebrated just how adventurous this expedition was. Two other people were camping and joined us for dinner and a chaotic, drunken game of Uno. Hash joints were passed around as The Rolling Stones played under the buzz of our conversations. I caught some of the local men trying to teach Eli a smoking trick. They cheered when I exhaled successfully as Eli (who had failed) shook his head. Looking around our circle of previous strangers, I knew the growing friendships were once in a lifetime.
Our hike to Rakaposhi base camp was cut short by a blizzard. Looking down the cliff to a glacier that looked like gigantic shards of glass, my legs stopped moving as the group continued up the ridge. I stood with Emily and the local trail guide in the falling snow as my gut, which I have been trained to listen to when hiking, screamed to turn around. I am not doing that shit, man. I am staying right here, must have come out of my mouth five or six times before Imran ordered the group to turn back. In fear of getting cold, we did not wait for them to descend back to camp. When we reached the communal tent, Chad and Kelli, who had stayed behind, a warm fire and green tea greeted us. A man we had not met yet came in to speak to the men I was sitting with by the fire. He looked down at me with a smile and asked, you smoke hash? With a yes, he lit a joint and took a few hits before passing it to me. I thanked him and assumed we were sharing it, but he promptly left the tent. No one else wanted any, so I shrugged before finishing it myself just as the rest of the group returned. Now high as a kite, we continued our descent back to Ghulmet. Emily, Imran, Alexa, and I pushed to the front and again, and for the sake of staying warm, did not wait. Halfway down, we stopped for a quick snack and water break under a handmade shelter. A silent, mutual agreement allowed us to finish the rest of the hike without a single word between the four of us. The hash contributed to my feelings of ease, but I doubt I will experience that level of peace until I return to those mountains someday.
Over 5 years of going to Pakistan and bringing adventurous groups with me to explore the wilderness of its untrodden plains … it’s as much a joy now as it always was to make Pakistan accessible to those who might otherwise deem it intimidating. -Will, expedition planner
Our next destination was Eagle's Nest in Hunza Valley, bringing us back to wifi and local shops full of crystals, rugs, shawls, fresh honey, and more. Aziz, who brought us yak meat for dinner, joined us once again with his friend, Shehzad. Shehzad is a well-known musician in the area... and very handsome. We spent the night around the bonfire listening to Shehzad and Aziz’s talent on the rabab, drum, and flute while sharing yak meat that made beef seem like chicken. As we drank Hunza water (mulberry moonshine), our friendships filled the night sky with laughter, stories, and songs. Hangovers the following morning were not enough to steer us away from scrambling up rocks to the panoramic views of Hunza Valley. Yellow autumn leaves were scattered across the town, and slicing through it all was a bright teal river against gray cliff sides. Peaks hugged by clouds stood above all of us in silence. As Shehzad sat with me humming a Pakistani love song, I took a deep breath intending to never forget that moment.
The next hikes of our trip took place around the village of Ghulkin. The drive there was stunning as we weaved along mountains and rivers. We stopped for a meal on Attabad Lake, which was formed from a deadly landslide in 2010. Since then, tourist opportunities have popped up along the new, blue-green lake. The road, named the Karakoram Highway, was repaired with the help of China to reconnect the northern region to Islamabad. Multiple tunnels were built and named the China-Pakistan Friendship Tunnels, the longest being over two miles long. Chinese influence in that area is not new. The Karakoram Highway is a part of the historic Silk Road, connecting China to the Indian Ocean. As I acknowledged the human history of the area, there was a moment on the bus where my eyes closed. Finding mindfulness, I was met with profound feelings of common humanity in the soles of my feet, in my chest, and in my hands. Despite issues that riddle history and continue today, the collaboration to survive and progress as a species is shared between us all. Through bloodshed, our will to live and flourish is passed through generations. Our ancestors quietly live within us, observing the improving conditions of the world through our senses. Although injustices do live on, tears ran down my cheeks knowing it is utterly impossible to be alone in this world.
Seeing people fall in love with the country slowly over two weeks is the best feeling. I love it and the opportunity to show people from around the world my home as I see it. - Imran, expedition planner
In Ghulkin, we all had sleepovers in the guest room of a wonderful family for three nights. We visited the school with a 100 percent literacy rate, basked in rooftop views, and picked apples from the surrounding trees. We enjoyed delicious meals together, snacked on dried apricots, and once again, shared laughs until our ribs hurt. Evidence of the tight-knit community was everywhere. A graduating class wove baskets to use as trash cans along common hiking routes. The community mosque was welcoming, decorated with lights that lit up the night. We awoke one morning to the grandma, mother, and daughters away at a neighbors house to support them after a death in that family. Any crime was almost nonexistent, and I found myself daydreaming about the potential of improving communities using this autonomous village as a blueprint.
Trust your body and you'll get there was the repeating line in my head as we crossed the Black Glacier. Accompanied by the father and son of the family we were staying with, we climbed up and down piles of massive boulders, avoided ice patches, and made sure to tap rocks before committing any step. With any movement, you could hear pebbles and debris fall into the hidden cracks of the frozen river beneath our feet. The Passu Cones and other snowy peaks watched over our careful maneuvers. Once we returned to dirt under our feet, we stopped for tea on a lake where cannabis plants grew from gaps in the concrete. Continuing onto the second glacier of the day, we crossed treeless, rocky terrain. I found moments in lulls of conversation where my mind, inner voice, and soul felt aligned. I reflected on the amount of trust and confidence I gained in myself over the past two weeks. Catching my breath, I gazed down upon one of the world’s longest icy white glaciers. Cracks in the beast could be heard from hundreds of feet away. At that moment, I lost any capacity to be cold.
Return to Lahore
October 21, 2021: I felt a pit in my stomach when we were told to wake up at 2:30 AM to start our 12-hour bus ride to Islamabad. The road we were supposed to take was closed due to snow, and plane tickets were sold out. Kelli played music as we all gathered and packed our things, sharing bittersweet sentences and the sweetness of more dried apricots. No more hikes and only two nights left. Exhausted from a week and a half of daily hiking, the group settled in around 8:00 PM and awaited the chorus of alarms set for 2:00 AM.
Earlier that day, our last trek consisted of two bridges that side characters in a movie would beg the main character not to cross. But they would, and it was a key arch in their story. Looking down towards a pale blue river, I watched my feet step onto the mismatched wooden boards. Relief washed over me as I reached solid ground again. However, as I turned back to see what I had crossed, the fear turned to whispers as I acknowledged my bravery. Between the bridges was a barren valley of rock and meadows scattered with out-of-season farmland. We walked through trees just starting to lose their leaves and stopped to eat berries that reminded me of pomegranate seeds. As we approached the second bridge to end the hike, we walked along a path carved out of the cliffside that created a wavy pattern attempting to match the river below. The thinly sliced pieces of slate crunching under my boots broke the autumn silence, yet the peace was impossible to miss. The second bridge was popular, with soccer teams and tourists, selfie-takers, and errand runners. But Emily and our saint of a driver, Barbar, were on the other side waiting for us. It was lovely to see them.
Every problem we faced was countered tenfold by the overwhelming kindness and hospitality of the Pakistani people. It took a few days to get adjusted, but by the end, I had left a large chunk of my heart in this country and come out a different traveler than I was before. -Eli, expedition planner
I slept on the bus until 8:00 AM when I decided to sit up and sightsee as everyone, minus the driver and Will in the passenger seat, slept. I played music and gazed out at areas of Pakistan I was not expecting to see. We passed through remote villages in a matter of minutes, sometimes even seconds. Communities along the river climbed up cliffs to farmlands and homesteads. Painted trucks full of transported goods lined the roads, creating traffic jams on the already congested mountainsides. Construction sites were everywhere, with workers spread around concrete foundations and operating machinery. Our tourist bus stuck out, turning heads as we drove past temporary housing for those constructing projects.
I knew the risks of being a woman near labor camps from reading about the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women around oil projects in North America. Since I had woken up, a police escort had been driving ahead of us. After spending the previous summer protesting United States' policing policies and further systemic racism, watching armed police escorts keep us safe brought back discomfort similar to what I felt in Lahore. I do not fully deny the risk of being a young woman in the area at that time. Flipping this idea over begets men of color and the power that I hold in my potential harm. Just within Hollywood is a genre of movies telling stories of white people being harmed when traveling internationally (Taken, The Green Inferno, Hostel, etc.) In reality, widely shared stories of tourists being harmed meet the suburban practices of "safe" domestic travel, never leaving resorts when abroad, and the idea of "saving" majority-Black and Brown countries. Despite improvements made off the backs of workers, Pakistan still faces this racist wall of fear that the locals are well aware of, especially since September 11th, 2001. Whiteness remains the pinnacle of salvation when traveling within the global system of racism. It is an inescapable, unjust safety net infinitely wrapped around us. The privilege some white people might see as a tool, or choose to ignore, must be a source of reckoning and reflection as I continue to chase humanity.
After the best shower of my life and sleeping in a bed again, we got lunch with Richie, another friend of Will’s, in Islamabad. Richie stumbled into organizing and advocacy as he helped an at-risk family recently flee Kabul, Afghanistan. We discussed the Western influences on the region, the creation of extremist groups, and how the failures in immigration policies in Western countries continue harm towards displaced populations. It was another conversation that captured the international power dynamics in place, and how their trickling consequences remain unjust. What could have been a day-long discussion was cut short by our need to get back to Lahore. As expected, the four-hour bus ride turned into a party with interesting Hunza water cocktails and sing-along songs. We were heading back to a comfortable night at Saiem’s house before parting ways to end the expedition. Instead of sleeping like normal people, we kept the party alive with drinks, hookah, and dancing. As the night slowed, we piled on couches and talked about where to travel next.
After saying a final goodbye to Imran and maneuvering back through the Allama Iqbal International Airport, I could feel the all-nighter fighting back as I sat with Emily, Alexa, and Kelli at the gate. As much fun as I had, I wanted nothing more than to be on the plane one step closer to home. I silently pondered the little sleep, miles of hiking, challenging points of reflection, and mental resilience I had just endured. My chest filled with pride as my self-compassion grew. Not only had I paid for this trip on my own (minus one flight as my college graduation gift from my uncle), there was no overall objective, no assignments, and no rules for my month of October abroad. And yet, I had grown into the expansive potential that was presented to me. With the value of lifelong learning, my quest to chase humanity came alive through conversation, music, and fearless adventure.
Acknowledgments
Imran, thank you for many check-ins, your quiet leadership, and for answering all my questions about your home country. Will, thank you for keeping me laughing, your contagious and upbeat energy, and for all the connections you provided. Eli, thank you for pulling us all together, for the beautiful photos, and for always being willing to help. Without you three, I would have never done this expedition. Now, I cannot imagine my life without it. Alexa, I am amazed at how you packed everything anyone ever needed. My favorite thing about you is your sneaky, killer one-liners. Clara, to this day, I laugh thinking about you trying to take a group photo of us high on hash. And we never even got one with you in it! You are a true joy to be around. Chad, your calm energy brought a lot of balance to the days we spent together. Our conversations about food and music helped me as I started feeling homesick, so thank you. Cora, I was kidding earlier we definitely hiked up to Fairy Meadows. If anyone asks, we did not ride horses. I repeat we did not ride horses! It was a blast dancing with you in all the places we did, and I see some European clubs in our future. Kelli, my Gemini soulmate, thank you for completing our group so perfectly. Your authenticity and will to dig deep inspire me. My wonderful friend, Emily, without you, I would not have known about this trip or made it through. Thank you for pushing me to sing, hiding me while I cried, and going to Istanbul with me. I love you as much as I am proud of you.
I would like to thank all of the locals in Pakistan who helped make this trip comfortable, informative, and fun! To our beloved driver, Barbar, who always greeted us with a smile, kept us safe on the road, and let us blast music many times, I thank you warmly. Thank you to Aziz, Saiem, and to Rehman and your family for welcoming us into your homes and ways of life. To the calligraphy artist, Wasil, Talha at Centrum Media, and to Richie, I learned so much, and thank you for taking the time to connect with us. To our scrappy lil group -- I love you all so much. Please reach out if you find yourself in or near Washington State. You are all unique and crazy characters. It was an honor to explore Pakistan on this expedition with you.
Questions? Comments? Feedback? Please feel free to email me at 99totten@gmail.com. For a faster response, consider adding "Pakistan Project" to your subject line. Please note that I am fully vaccinated against COVID-19, but am open to discuss what it means to travel internationally during this time. Thank you for reading this far!
Ready to go to Pakistan yourself? Follow @readyforroadpk and @willmeara.loco on Instagram to learn more. For other group trip opportunities, including Pakistan, look to @thepartyingtraveler on Instagram.
Credits:
Eli, Cora, and Kelli