"You are not really going to Pakistan alone? As a woman?" that was the reaction of many when I decided to visit Pakistan. I am writer. And a lovely fellow writer invited me to her country, her home, to be part of her family for a while. We “met” while doing research for a book. She was kind and helpful. And she, too, was a booklover, a teacher. What an opportunity to see a new part of the world.

And so I flew via London to Lahore. Passport control was efficient. The officials were all uniformed women stamping passports, some wearing head scarves, some not. My friend Leila (not her real name) was waiting. We had no trouble recognizing each other. Driving through Lahore to her home, I felt like I had landed in a movie decor: unfinished concrete buildings, dusty dirt roads, men striding along in long white shirts and turbans, chatting on cell phones; rusty cars, carts laden with freshly cut greens drawn by donkeys, mopeds, all honking and going at top speed. The traffic looked like a wild game of bumper cars.

Leila's house is a lovely oasis in a jungle of noise. We had lunch of about ten different, typical Pakistani dishes. Eaten with the fingers with a freshly baked flat bread, and served with yogurt to soothe the spicy foods. I’m incredibly lucky: they tell me a cousin is getting married and I’m invited for all 5 days of wedding celebrations. So, straight off the plane, I’m in for getting outfits and meeting lots of people. I will share this fairy tale wedding with you in a separate blog post.

At the end of a long first day and night in Pakistan, I thought we'd get some sleep, but to my surprise we headed to the bazaar to buy cloth. It was late at night but still as busy on the streets as if it was mid day. Piles of colourful cloths were displayed by bolts in each stall of the big open-air market which offered nothing but fabric.

”Do we need to barter?” I ask.

"You pay what it is worth, not more but also not less," was the sensible answer. She explains that in true Muslim faith people prepare in this life for the afterlife and how you treat others is very important. This also means that it is inappropriate to charge too much for an item. There is no bartering. It’s a kind and pleasant feeling.

I choose fabric for a wedding outfit, called shawar kameez. It comes in sets of three: one plain colour to make the baggy pants, one for the matching top, the third will make the large shawl. You cannot mix and match but select a set. The fabric is then measured by arm length and cut. A seamstress looks me over and tomorrow my outfit will be ready!

We have interesting discussions about religion, politics and war. ‘We hate extremists even more than westerners do’, I am told, ‘because all muslims get blamed. Maybe misunderstanding is our own fault because we haven't shared enough with the rest of the world of what we believe in.’

My friends explain that the muslim faith includes many parts of Christianity, including Jesus as a disciple of God and that the Koran includes parts of the Bible. "Our religion is very tolerant and excepting," she says. I notice that the women I meet are like mothers everywhere: chatting about dieting, kids and the dangers of drugs. I also witness incredibly kind behaviour towards others: my friend gives a package of food and clothing to a stranger in need, simply to thank Allah for his goodness.

We visit ancient Fort Lahore. Built in the 1500’s by Moghul emperors, the complex encompasses many gardens, mosques and other beautiful, buildings including the Badshahi Mosque and the Sish Mahal.

“Thank you for coming!” a man beams at me - a western visitor. Even with a scarf around my head I stand out. A school class swarms around wanting to have their picture taken with me. We stroll around this UNESCO World Heritage site admiring cascading bougainvillea, the hall of mirrors, the balcony where the Moghul emperor stood to address the people.

Just outside the museum grounds, I don't have enough eyes to take it all in: a boy pushes a wooden cart with a small fire burning inside. On top he roasts nuts. There are cages and cages of live chickens, and dangling dead chickens. A goat market where men in long robes sell small goats. Oxen rest along the side of the road. A stand with sugar cane piled high while a man cranks a metal wheel on the side of a machine that crushes cane into juice. Baskets with bakings and sweets, herbs, nuts. I noticed people with wicker cages full of birds. ‘Do people eat them?’ I ask worriedly.

‘No', Leila laughs, ‘you can pay money for a bird and then release it. It will help your wishes come true....' So if someone is very ill, you 'buy' a bird, wish for good health and release the bird.

I’m impressed to learn that there is free health care in Pakistan. Those in need get free care from doctors. Others pay as they can. Most families live with multiple generations in one house. It is more economical and allows grandparents to teach the little ones. Education is very important. The grandparents teach them to be kind, to be polite, disciplined, to study hard. It seems the ideal way to live together, to me.

Going out is an adventure full of color and sound: donkey carts laden with firewood, freshly cut grass, sugar cane, building supplies. Women on bare feet sit on their hunches along the dark red (silt) canal and beat their laundry with stones. Trees are hung with baseball caps for sale, towels and t-shirts.

The fruit stands are amazing: each cart piled high with gleaming oranges and other fruits. I drink freshly squeezed strawberry juice. We went to the meat market in a narrow street among many other shops. Each shop is a three walled square with a shopkeeper squatting inside, facing the street. Some shops have a wooden bed frame with ropes in front, where the shop keeper can rest if it is quiet. At a shoe shop, I buy a pair of Arabian Nights slippers: shiny bejewelled slippers hand stitched of raw leather.

In my next post I will tell you about the amazing library project here and about shopping in Lahore!

For BOOKS about Pakistan, click here.