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I had a Pashtun party to celebrate the anniversary 2x20 - no gifts or alcohol (although alcohol can be found in Gilgit), where are meeting the Hindu Kush, Karakoram and the Himalayas. The place is like a out of control laboratory for mountaineering dreams and views in all directions were like a slap in the face for the first 1-2 days. But after some time and a few hikes mountains seem to have more human and logical dimensions.

It’s Sunday. I go for a lazy afternoon walk to Islamabad. The minibus leaves me square in square F-6/4, and many of the houses around are partially covered with sheets or clothes. I am approach square F-5 with the interior ministry, ministerial complex and the Pakistani TV - all in a few minutes walk from Marriott hotel. I am checking the map where the hotel is listed as address number one in the capital. There is no better target for busy media presence. The street to the hotel is blocked - better late than never - and inside are the journalists from Express News, Dawn TV etc. Reporters are talking in front of vans with sticking out satellite antennas. Commoners are not allowed in the complex through the main street, but police is directing the crowd how to bypass the security (?) through a ravine 50 m away. I join the crowd to get a closer look. No need to describe the condition of the road and the facade of a wing is almost gone. This part of Marriott (name is still there) is like a dolls house painted in black instead of pink. The ground under the buildings has a glass snow layer within at least a kilometer radius. The grass and sidewalks are covered with debris, and windows of nearby shops are missing. It’s Sunday, but the merchants sit around to guard their shops from looting - only the glass doors of banks have been mended. The usual suspects are the bearded brotherhood, Pakistan's premier intelligence agency (ISI) or even Americans, but no matter who do choose to bet on you won’t be very far from the truth - their interests are intertwined in a strange symbiosis as it was in Indonesia 2003. That’s all folks. I stayed in hotel Faisal, worth less than the explosives needed to be destroyed.

Quetta is a pleasant town surrounded by mountains and inhabited by a strange mixture of calm Pashtuns and Baluchis. Two Baluchis in flip flops can stop half high-tech division in the passages to the city singing: "the mountains are our castles, the peaks - our friends, the earth is our bed and the thorny bushes - our pillow". Found a new (?) camera worth € 10 in one of the thousands of stalls on the Kandahar market...

After a day riding various vehicles I crossed without a problem the no man's land between the Iranian border and Quetta. The landscape is desert and the territory south of the road is normally closed to tourists, but the presence of police or army in those parts of the world is so symbolic that virtually no one will stop you. North of the road can be seen hundreds of traces in the sand, leading to Helmand - Afghan province number one in opium sector of agriculture. Ramadan in Pakistan is much stricter than Iran and the bus stopped twice for prayer and once for a flat tire, but after dark the mood improved and the boy in the back seat next to me smoked 5-6 cigarettes hashish in the last hundred kilometers. One shouldn’t be tempted, but the price of an average big block is about half a Euro.

Several years after the earthquake of December 26, 2003 the city still is literally "on crutches". The old walls in the town center are supported by thick wooden pillars, and most of the territory was cleared of bricks, mud and ashes but that’s all. Iron columns are still sticking from the rubble here and there and dust swirls everywhere. There are 2-3 buses carrying mostly newsettlers and construction workers. There are some walls remaining from the ancient fortress propped up on crutches. Parts of the wall are raised again, others are secured with scaffolding. In 2000 Izmit looked similar 6 months after the earthquake.

Shiraz is very authentic and preserved town, we glut ourselves with the same name grape variety, but couldn’t find the wine. We slip into an Islamic shrine - the mausoleum of Shah Cherak and everything went smoothly until we made a small error to the local code of Islamic conduct, so we were shown the way out. It is easy to pretend to be a Muslim in Senegal, but here we need more concentration. There will be more opportunities to experiment.

Esfahan is perhaps the most beautiful city till now - nothing to do with dirt and madness of Tehran, only gardens, fountains, parks and wide and shady boulevards. One of the most beautiful mosques in Iran is the Friday mosque in Isfahan (Juma in Farsi and Turkish means Friday in Bulgarian, and mosque in Bulgarian is pronounced jamia).