In the Mountain's Embrace

Travelling through the rough and rugged north of Pakistan was never going to be easy. When the poshest hotel in town gives you a hot bath the colour of green bean soup, you deal with it. When the hot bath suddenly turns into an icy cold shower, you deal with it. No drama.

You can no longer eat and live in the manner to which you have become accustomed. But in villages where blackouts are frequent, where a kid has to travel 2 hours to see a doctor and the only road to the rest of the world sometimes gets blocked by the odd avalanche, you know to count your blessings. In return, you get rewarded with priceless encounters.

- Over 10 days, our meals have taken on a kind of routine. Breakfast is toast and scrambled eggs, lunch is a forgettable affair of rice or chapatti...But the dinner, oh the dinner, is a princely feast every night.

Obviously, no one bothered to tell them the "breakfast like a king, dine like a pauper" theory. But hey, I'm not complaining. Dinner always starts with surprisingly delicious clear soup, then a jaw-dropping spread of rice, curries, chappati, salad, fried meat and vegetables in gravy. There is always way more than enough food for the three of us. Then there is dessert (usually pudding) and milk chai (tea). Our palates are pampered, even if our stomaches aren't.

- One magical experience was when we stopped on the highway and tried out the local cable car - a rickety metal cage that carries villagers across a lush river valley, for 2 rupees a go.

- Hunza's villages has the most charming children. Rosy-cheeked and dusty-fingered, the boys play cricket anytime and anywhere they can. They don't know soccer, nor do they care to know. The girls, who look vaguely East European, are beautiful.

- When people here say "car pool", they really mean it. Scarce transport means that a little jeepney that officially sits six, can actually carry up to 20. We're gobsmacked to see men clinging onto the jeepneys' sides and back, and another bunch sitting on top of it, carrying live chickens and sundry. All while the vehicle swerves down snaking mountain roads. And yes, Momin tells us, the clingers pay the same fare as those with seats.

- It is a joy walking around Hunza's village tracks. We see stone houses with colourfully-dressed women outside working the fields and children playing. Tall poplar trees flank the streams that bring icy glacial water to farms and households. It is said that drinking the slightly murky stream water is the secret to the longevity of the village's famous 100 plus year-old inhabitants. Um, I'll just take their word for it.

- Getting invited to tea is one of the loveliest experiences. Hunza people take hospitability to the extreme, bringing out an array of snacks while boiling water for tea. They live in square stone huts where everything takes place in one room. Men and women of the house sleep on different sides of the carpet-lined room. In the centre is the sunken dining "square", and right above, a skylight and chimney. At the back is a tiny open kitchen. Cosy and warm, it is an ancient design that suits freezing winters.

- I got really ill and nauseous one torturous night in Hunza ( I think it was the copious amounts of milk tea we were offered), and the next day, the very kind hotel staff offered herbal mountain tea (gratefully accepted) and also to take bring a doctor here ( politely declined). The restaurant people also brought a room service platter of fruits. It is embarrassing when most of a hotel's staff know about your bowel movements. I will come back, but armed with more Lomotil next time.