It’s morning here in Lahore, the first city in Pakistan that I’m visiting, even though I’ve already been in the country for two weeks. I haven’t explored Lahore alone though: I’m with Michele and Mirta, as well as Jörg and Birgit. Together, we visit the Imperial Mosque, the second largest mosque in Pakistan, a true masterpiece built of red marble. Lahore is only 24 km from India, but since I haven’t seen much of Pakistan yet, on Michele and Mirta’s advice I decided that after Lahore I’ll head up to Islamabad, then continue north to visit Pakistani Kashmir. But first, with the others, we go to watch the famous Wagah border ceremony, a daily military event held every evening at sunset. Soldiers from both countries perform an exaggerated martial parade, waving their respective flags. Imagine this: each country has built a stadium on its side of the border just to watch this show. For this occasion, I’m on the Pakistani side. The Pakistani stadium is smaller than the Indian one, but during the parade it felt like being in a packed football stadium for a major final, with everyone cheering passionately for their country. During the parade, I couldn’t help but imagine the day I would cross that border: India was just a stone’s throw away. After the ceremony, I warmly say goodbye to Jörg and Birgit. They helped me a lot; without them, traveling with the security escort would have been even harder, and I probably would have died of dehydration, haha. The next morning I load everything onto my motorcycle, say goodbye to Michele and Mirta with a promise to meet again in Kathmandu — the final stop for all of us — and set off alone toward Islamabad. I stay two nights at the Coyote Den, where I meet two solo motorcyclists: Ryan from New Zealand and Sean from the US. Both are traveling alone on their Suzuki DR650s. Sean is on his second world tour and is doing it with the same bike. They let me try it, and I instantly fell in love: my Transalp probably won’t be too happy about it. While having breakfast with Ryan and Sean, an adventurous Dutch couple, Ava and Margot, overhear my strong Italian accent and stop to talk. We chat for a bit; I tell them about my trip and find out they’re also heading north. So, we make plans to meet up later. After breakfast, I head out with the goal of reaching Naran. But just outside Islamabad, a military convoy stops me: without the NOC (No Objection Certificate) I can’t continue. I show the one I got in Quetta, but they say it’s not valid for this region. I have to go to the Italian embassy in Islamabad to get a new one, after which they would assign me a new security escort. It felt like a nightmare. I thought I was finally free from it, but here I am again. I understand it’s for my safety, but I believe I can manage on my own. I thank them, backtrack a few kilometers, and find a side road that bypasses the convoy. I try it and manage to get past, LOL.

But a little further on, I meet another convoy. This time they don’t ask for the NOC but simply assign me an escort. And here we go again: passport checks everywhere and constant stops to change escorts. At some point, I’ve had enough, so I push all 50 horsepower of my Transalp and escape. It was pretty easy since they’re two on a small Honda 125cc. Once I lost the escort, no one stopped me anymore. I reach Naran, cross the Babusar Pass at 4,000 meters altitude, and arrive in Gilgit, where I join the famous Karakoram Highway — the road connecting Pakistan to China through the Himalayas. What can I say: breathtaking places. Now, I really start to like Pakistan. After Gilgit, I stay at the Nomad Hostel, where I find Ava and Margot again. We spend five days together, traveling along the entire Karakoram Highway up to the Chinese border at 4,700 meters altitude. The Transalp, being carbureted, struggled a lot but never gave up or left me stranded. Together, we also do a two-day trek to the Rakaposhi base camp, where I spend my first night camping in Pakistan under a sky full of stars. Back at the Nomad Hostel, I say goodbye to Ava and Margot, hoping to see them again one day, if fate allows, and start the return journey to Islamabad. Three days of travel, just like on the way up, but this time I’m never stopped and no one assigns me an escort. I return to the Coyote Den and see Sean again, who unfortunately can’t continue his trip because he doesn’t have a paper visa for India. He’s trying to get one in Islamabad, but it’s very difficult. Many travelers have had this problem. The craziest but effective solution is to apply for an Indian eVisa (valid only for air entry), fly to India, then cross the border by public transport back into Pakistan, retrieve the bike, and then cross again into India by land. Luckily, I got a paper visa at the Indian embassy in Milan, so I won’t have any issues. Before leaving Islamabad, I still have one thing to do. In Pakistan, all trucks and buses are decorated with bright colors, floral motifs, symbols, and religious verses. This art is known as “Truck Art” and is a personal expression of pride for the drivers. So, as a form of pride for my Transalp that has taken me so far, I decide to decorate it. I find a specialized shop and give them free rein. I only ask for one phrase: “Everiting Inshallah,” meaning “whatever, take it easy.” It was the motto of the entire journey with the escort, and in general, it’s perfect for anyone traveling overland, slowly. Now that everything is ready, I can head to India, the penultimate country in this magnificent adventure. I can’t wait, although part of me wishes to return to northern Pakistan and stay there for months among the Himalayas. But alas, it’s not possible: I only have 22 days left before my Indian visa expires. But surely, one day, I will come back.