Well, Alison and I met up in London and hopped on the plane to Islamabad. I spent most of the flight prodding a French man sitting behind me, who was working for the French Embassy in Islamabad for the past two years, on his impressions of Pakistani culture and religion. And a few hints on to do's and not to do's.

Upon landing we appropriately dressed ourselves in long sleeve shirts, loose fitting pants, and headscarves and headed toward passport control. I was surprised to find that we had to file into the line for "unaccompanied women and children." I guess I didn't really know what to expect in terms of the cultural definitions of men and women. Our passports and visas were checked and processed by the only woman working at passport control. Curt met us with a smile and a hug and told us he was relieved to have found some of the missing bags on the conveyer belt. Alison and I did a little jig when we saw that ALL our bags had successfully arrived!!

We walked through the doors to embrace Islamabad and meet Ghulam and Blue Sky Travel. Ghulam and our guide Sharif met us with an armful of roses, a bouquet for each of us. Alison and I met eyes and smiled realizing that there were some benefits to the roles of women in this culture to balance the deficits! We navigated the traffic in the airport to the van and our driver loaded up our bags and headed to the hotel, where we found ourselves surrounded by fellow Westerners. After a short nap we headed off to Rawalpindi to see the market and more of the local culture.

First stop, money exchange. We found out that NOTHING in Pakistan is fixed -- it is all up for bartering. I asked Sharif for the rules of bartering whether it was accepted or not. He said "yes, for example I just bartered for a better exchange rate." We all laughed realizing things we take for granted as "fixed" in the United States. Pakistani society and culture doesn't function that way.

Alison and I noted that we had barely seen one woman in all our driving that day. The roads were lined with men dressed in local garb of whites and tan. But where were the women?? I was sure that knowing the birth rate in Pakistan that they must be somewhere. Sharif offered to show us the women's market.

We entered a maze of 100-year-old buildings in the women's market of Rawalpindi. Fabrics, jewlery, shoes, clothing, smells, men and women. My senses were overloaded, once again remembering the difference between the sterility of the United States and the plethora of smells, sights, and sounds here. The woman were all covered to varying degrees, head scarves, burkas, all different colors, patterns, styles. Alison and I discussed the different styles of pinning scarves, wondering if there was any correlation between style and religion or if it were just arbitrary. Alison lusted after enless styles of sparkly shoes while I ogled at the glittering jewelry.

A handful of women squatting around thousands of sparkling bangle bracelets attempted to explain the process of getting your hand to relax, applying a little oil and slipping a bracelets on. I did my best, but we couldn't help but laugh when bracelet after bracelet broke as the woman attempted to slip them over my not very feminine climbers hands. Not only am I fair skinned, and blue eyed, but at 5 foot 9 I tower over all the local women.

Refusing to give up, the woman eventually succeeded in getting a dozen blue sparkling bracelets onto my wrist. I imagine they will stay there until they break off. The little scratches producing blood caused uproar among some of the local women. A few used little bits of tissue paper to dry the blood from my hand while informing me that there were better shops and that they were sorry for the cuts I had received. Sharif bartered for an appropriate price for the bangles. The woman said 100 rupees (about $1.50), he said "yes and how much will you pay the blood." (honestly they were not more than little scratches). Another kind man arrived to help fix my hand. He poured a bit of alcohol smelling fluids on my hand which stung, Curt informed me it was Paint Thinner...Hmmm thanks!!

We left the bracelet experience laughing, but also with a small window into the kindness of the locals. Each woman we passed yearned for eye contact, intrigued by our foreign faces. Though hidden behind black veils we could easily see the gentle smiles radiating from the corners of their eyes. Though many women are shroud in black and veils, they seem to express themselves through elaborate shoes, handbags and jewelry.

After some spicy Dal and Naan we headed back to the hotel for a nap. In the hotel lobby we met an Italian Expedition to Broad Peak. The Italian man puffed his chest saying "Ciao Bella". He told me his objective expecting that I would be impressed, and offered me a seat next to him. I laughed and told him that while I was a bit apprehensive about interacting with local Pakistani men, the most aggressive male I had met was Italian!!!