I vividly recall us saying "We'll NEVER, EVER do another land border crossing" after our exhausting and nerve wracking experience in crossing the border of Turkmenistan into Iran in 2011 (refer Travelpod blog "Secret Threads of the Old Silk Road - Turkmenistan, Iran, Pakistan and Far West China - 2011"). We have had awful experiences also crossing from Kyrgyzstan into China and from Pakistan into China. Interestingly, in 2009 we had very little difficulty crossing the border from China into Pakistan, most probably because they are so relieved to actually get some tourists.

But we never learn and we did it again, crossing by land from Lahore, Pakistan to Amritsar, India.

During our last days in Pakistan, we were having great trouble in contacting our Indian travel agent Gopi Chand, Director, Himalayan Frontiers. For obvious reasons it was vital that we coordinated our travel arrangements with his company in crossing the border. Somehow, we forgot that the two countries are still almost at war and subsequently it was impossible to send text messages or make phone calls to India. The only means of communicating was through email via Ishaq Ali from Islamabad. Fortunately and only at the very last minute were we able to make contact and determine an appropriate time for Gopi's guide to pick us up at the Indian side of the border of Wagah.

Sadruddin did his utmost to buy some Indian rupees for us before we left Pakistan. Some rather shady looking black market money changers operating in a street market near our hotel had approached us the evening before and we thought they may be worth a try. Sadruddin however came back from the market that morning saying he didn't change any of our money as he thought their Indian rupees may be counterfeit. And so we left Pakistan for India with no local Indian rupees, only US dollars - a situation that despite planning, we had faced several times before.

It was stiflingly hot as we left Lahore for our border crossing. "Ooh La La - it's hot out there!" exclaimed Sadruddin. It was one of the more curious phrases used regularly by him and also a number of our drivers, obviously reflecting who travels to Pakistan these days (the few tourists we came across were mostly French or German). The border was flat, featureless and shimmering with the intense morning heat. And like all border crossings, it was laced with barbed wire and looked formidable.

Sadruddin could only come a certain distance with us before we embarked upon No Man's Land. He advised us to hire a porter which turned out to be a god send. An unfriendly, large framed older man in a turban and white flowing robes grabbed all our baggage and marched at break neck speed - with us trotting to keep up - toward, well we had no idea at the time. As it turned out we didn't have the choice and as Sadruddin had advised, the haughty porter was an invaluable in getting to the right place to catch our bus to the Indian border. In the very distance we could just see Sadruddin standing on the highest spot he could, waving to us as we departed. It was typical of him to look after us to the very end. As usual, I felt rather emotional about leaving Pakistan.

Wagah is the site of the very famous and ritualistic border closing ceremony which is performed each day at 6.00 pm by both the Pakistan and India armies. It is an enormous tourist attraction for both local and international visitors, and was featured in Michael Palin's well known "Himalaya" BBC television series. I knew it would be touristy but it looked like great theatre. Alan was highly sceptical, saying I was just being every other tourist. I didn't give in.

It was an blisteringly hot 500 m walk across No Man's Land to Immigration. An enormously tall soldier talked with us and yes, he said that he took part in the Wagah closing ceremony. I looked carefully at his feet. They were definitely larger than size 13.... Perhaps Alan would have more luck buying shoes in India?

The Indian border officials' building, unlike other border crossing buildings we had experienced was almost devoid of people. But it didn't add to the speed of our entry. Bureaucracy is entrenched in India, being learnt well from the British. As usual, the staff looked officious and stern, and we seemed to wait forever before our names were called. We were sitting next to an unaccompanied piece of luggage which I remember thinking was not a great idea but we didn't bother to move. Our practical Alan said if it was a bomb then the whole building would go up, so what was the point?

Our official looked painstakingly through our passports, scrutinising every detail. "Oh!" he exclaimed "You (Alan) were born in 1938, And yoooooooou (me) madam were born in 1953?". well, yes that was correct. "Ahh, was it a love marriage?" he asked curiously. We were quite stunned. In fact we couldn't really answer his question very well at all but finally agreed that perhaps it was. He then asked us who proposed first and then in what year we were married. Typically, neither of us could agree on either answer. The whole process was surprisingly funny and certainly quite different treatment to what we had ever experienced in our usually formidable border crossing interviews.

And then we were in India. A guard signalled for us to leave the building but there was no car in sight, not even a taxi or a bus. We were totally alone in a flat and dusty desert with not a person or even a tree to be seen. And it was blisteringly hot. We have been let down by guides on numerous occasions during our past travels and dejectedly resigned ourselves to being in this god forsaken part of India with no guide and no local money.

Mukesh arrived from nowhere. Dressed like a Ninja in an immaculate white kurta and scrubbed denim jeans, and wearing a white head scarf, our guide Mukesh was a cool model of the modern Indian generation. An intense young man, Mukesh explained as we drove to our Amritsar hotel, that although he was Hindu, he had strong beliefs in Sufism. And we had a very enthusiastic run down on the virtues of religion and meditation. Good start we thought...

The Punjab of India seemed a kinder, softer and more prosperous environment from that we had witnessed in the Pakistan Punjab. Brilliant green fields of paddy rice interspersed with orchards dominated the scenery. Water buffalo and tropical looking cattle wandered across the road and donkey carts trotted happily alongside our car - which was fortunately well air conditioned. Mukesh told us that a temperature of 48 degrees C was forecast for the day. Oh goodie...

A strikingly different feature from Pakistan we noticed was the large bill board advertisements - with actual pictures of women with NO head scarves and BARE ARMS, and young people dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Interestingly, we realised that we had come to accept the lack of women in public (let alone a woman without a chador or head scarf) in Pakistan as being normal, almost without thinking about it. It was quite disturbing.

It was mid afternoon when we arrived at our Ista Hotel on the outskirts of Amritsar. Mukesh suggested that being such a blindingly hot day we should have a quiet afternoon, before we drove to the closing ceremony at Wagah (yes, I did get my way..) and then a visit to the famous Golden Temple. The Ista Hotel was very plush and beautifully appointed. Staff was friendly and very helpful, and all spoke excellent English. I was intrigued how the women greeted us with their characteristic, charming prayer-like hand gestures.

Amritsar lies on the Grand Trunk Road which runs through the whole of the northern half of the Indian continent, connecting Peshawar, Pakistan to Sonargaon in Bangladesh. It is some 30 kilometers from Lahore, our last stay in Pakistan. Amritsar is the spiritual centre for the Sikh religion and is one of the largest cities of the Punjab state of India. Partition in 1947 had an immense impact on the city when the Punjab was divided between India and Pakistan. It then became a border city and often on the front line of the terrible India-Pakistan wars.

Although it was around 5.30 pm when we arrived at Wagah, the temperature was still in the in mid forties. It really took our breath away. To our dismay hundreds of people were queued up outside the entry gates - we were told by our large footed soldier earlier that around 6,000 people attend the ceremony each day. It was suffocating being pushed and shoved in such an enormous crowd. Fortunately for me the queues were divided into males and females. There were far fewer females and I felt sorry for Alan whose head I could only just see in the distance. "Just keep moving forward. Don't let anyone push in front of you" said Mukesh who had arranged to meet us later when the ceremony had finished.

Foreigners have preferential seating at the ceremony. Not that it was very palatial, just concrete steps right out in the still blazing sun. I guess at least we had good views and unlike the local crowd at least we could sit down. Alan didn't agree, complaining bitterly about his bum being burnt by the hot cement (I was later to realise that my part of the concrete step must have been slightly shaded). I muttered that he was out to wreck my afternoon and wrenched off my scarf for him to sit on. He still complained and I ignored him. I didn't add that I was about to pass out in the intense heat. It was truly horrible, especially being in such a confined space.

The crowd roared. Hundreds of local women in brilliant saris began to dance down No Man's Land to wildly loud thumping music. The crowd went mad. A loud speaker shouted Hindustan! Hindustan! The crowd responded shouting back "Hindustan Jandibah! (or something that sounded like that), Hindustan Jandibah!". On the other side of the border we could hear the loud roars of Pakistan! Pakistan! The atmosphere was electric. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UUEC5jwBTc

I was feeling rather guilty not being on the Pakistan side which had far fewer patrons when the official ceremony began. With much pomp and splendour enormously tall, stiff legged (large footed) soldiers wearing brilliant red fanned hats marched in pairs or alone toward the Pakistan gate. At the gate they glared, hissed and growled at the Pakistan side which I assume was doing the same thing (we were unable to see the Pakistan side from where we were sitting). With a huge goose step that must felt like doing the splits, they turned and marched back to be followed by another team of soldiers. It was deadly serious and quite a spectacle. https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=OKpL03jLg1g

I have to admit (although I didn't dare to Alan at the time) that I was mega pleased when the ceremony ended at 7.00 pm. Most of the foreigners were European and looked like us; that is they were about to die from the heat. Mukesh had told us to make a run for it before the crowds departed and we were highly relieved to find him and flop into our air conditioned car. Only later, did I admit that it WAS very touristy and sadly the heat made it almost unbearable. Alan still was complaining about his burnt bum....

Our day ended with an evening visit to the famous Golden Temple and a walk through the Old City of Amritsar.

The Golden Temple (Harmandir Sahib or Temple of God) is the holiest Sikh shrine in India. It was built in the 16th Century and later reconstructed in 1794 by Jassa Singh Ahluwalia. In the Early 19th century, Maharaja Ranjit Singh secured the Punjab region from outside attack and covered the upper floors of the "Gurdwara" (Gateway to the Guru) with gold which gives it its distinctive appearance and English name of "The Golden Temple". The building has four doors leading in which symbolises the openness of the Sikhs to all people and religions, and is surrounded by the soothing waters of Lake Amrit Saravar.

Philanthropy, along with business enterprise and physical bravery, is a vital part of Sikhism and all their temples have a Langur, a kitchen preparing free meals around the clock, financed through the one-tenth of their income that all Sikhs are expected to give to good works. The work is all done by volunteers, and any Sikh is expected to come and help. The high volume soup kitchen at the Golden Temple not only provides free food but there are also free dormitories for 25,000 people a night - a staggering achievement.

The evening was still very hot and sultry and when we saw the queue of hundreds of people lining up to enter the temple, we decided that looking at it from outside was a better idea. The temple was indeed beautifully majestic, illuminated by external lights; the entire scene further enhanced by a glowing full moon. It was breathtaking - but so was the heat.

We ended our evening with a walk around the Old City, through its tangle of lane ways and tall decaying buildings. It was by this time quite late and in the darkness of the old streets were thriving markets and shops selling everything from shalwaar kameez and saris to devotional ornaments, and hot local foods. Mukesh suggested that we catch a bicycle drawn rickshaw back to the Golden Temple where we would meet our driver. We were not keen to have any person peddle us back through the crowded lanes but Mukesh was quite pragmatic saying "These people need the work to earn money and we need the transport as it is a long way back" In the end we were pleased we did. We had walked a lot further than we had thought and it was still extremely hot and humid. I still did not enjoy the sight of our pathetically thin peddle man and his sweating taught body as he strained to peddle us back to our car. Thankfully, a lot of it was downhill.

Mukesh wanted us to drop by the university and meet with some of his students who were learning English. He looked disappointed when we refused his invitation. However, we were tired and had been caught in similar situations before when it became almost impossible to politely leave.

Hot and exhausted, we decided to dine at the Ista Hotel. The restaurant was sophisticated and quiet which by this time we really needed. Up until then we had travelled long distances through some fairly rough conditions and after the day's events were tiring of crowds. It was delightful for us to sit back and enjoy a meal of Tandoori Chicken and a bottle of good wine in the ambiance of a very nice restaurant.

The Ista Hotel is the only five star hotel in Amritsar and although it is located some 3 kilometers east of Amritsar city, we would highly recommend it to travellers.