3 Places That Made Me Believe in Humanity Again

Stories from Pakistan, Lebanon & Iran that changed me forever

There are moments on the road that don’t just stay with you—they change you. They dismantle your fears. They rebuild your faith. They challenge everything you thought you knew about people, places, and what it means to be human.

As someone who has spent years traveling across the Middle East—often solo—I’ve had more than my fair share of those moments. And while I’ve encountered beauty everywhere, there are three countries that left a permanent mark on my heart. Not because of their landscapes, though those were stunning. Not even because of their history, though that, too, was powerful.

But because of the people. The way they showed up. The way they welcomed me. The way they reminded me—without even trying—that kindness, connection, and compassion are still very real.

These are the three places that made me believe in humanity again.

🇵🇰 Pakistan – A Culture Built on Pure Hospitality

Before I arrived in Pakistan, I didn’t know what to expect. Most of what I’d heard came with disclaimers—concerns about safety, politics, and uncertainty. But from the moment I landed, something shifted.

In Lahore, I was greeted with warmth that didn’t ask questions. A man I met while buying street food asked where I was from, then insisted I meet his family. Within the hour, I was sitting in his living room, sipping chai, playing with his kids, and trying my best to keep up with stories told in a language I didn’t understand—but deeply felt.

In Hunza, surrounded by towering peaks and glaciers, I experienced a different kind of peace. Here, strangers would stop on the side of the road just to offer directions or share fruit from their gardens. Once, while hiking alone, I met a shepherd who offered me tea boiled over a fire, using water from the glacier. He had no reason to stop what he was doing—he just wanted to share something.

There’s a word you’ll hear often in Pakistan: "mehmaan nawaazi"—the art of hosting, of caring for a guest. But it’s not just a word. It’s a way of life. It’s woven into every encounter, every gesture, every cup of tea you didn’t ask for but desperately needed.

Pakistan reminded me that sometimes, the most beautiful form of humanity is generosity with no strings attached.

🇱🇧 Lebanon – Finding Light in the Midst of Hardship

Lebanon is complicated—and completely unforgettable.

It’s a place where the scent of za’atar in the morning mingles with the sound of generators and prayer. A place where rooftop bars glow against darkened streets, and where every single person you meet carries a story laced with both pain and pride.

What struck me the most in Lebanon wasn’t just the resilience—but the joy people still made space for. In Beirut, I danced in a small bar with locals who, moments earlier, had shared their frustrations about inflation and instability. There was sorrow, but there was also laughter. Loud, full, defiant laughter. The kind that says, “We’re still here. And we’re still living.”

In Tripoli, I was invited to share dinner with a family who had lost everything in the financial crisis. Their home was modest. Their kitchen barely functional. But they served me like I was royalty. I tried to offer money. They refused—genuinely offended that I would even consider it.

And then there were the little moments. A taxi driver pulling over to buy me fresh juice on a scorching day. A woman in a hijab helping me translate a menu, then insisting I join her family’s table. A shopkeeper who whispered, “Thank you for coming. It means so much.”

Lebanon taught me that humanity doesn’t disappear in hard times. In fact, it glows brighter.

🇮🇷 Iran – Deep Conversations and Quiet Grace

Iran is the country that surprised me the most.

Even before I arrived, people warned me. About the politics. The restrictions. The risk. But what I found was something entirely different—a deeply soulful, endlessly kind, and intellectually rich country full of people who welcomed me like a long-lost friend.

In Shiraz, I sat in a park where a young couple approached me, curious. We spoke for hours about love, poetry, faith, and freedom. Their questions weren’t just polite—they were sincere. They wanted to know about my world just as much as they wanted to share theirs.

In Tehran, I visited a mosque where I was invited to sit in silence with a group of worshippers. No one asked if I was Muslim. No one questioned my presence. They just let me be. That kind of unspoken inclusion is rare—and powerful.

And in Qom, known as one of the holiest cities in Iran, I expected distance. What I got instead was warmth. Seminary students offered me tea and shared stories about philosophy and spirituality, curious about my perspective and open with their own.

Iran reminded me that connection doesn’t need perfect words—it just needs presence.

Final Reflection

These three countries—Pakistan, Lebanon, and Iran—are often misunderstood. And yet, they are the places that restored something in me. Something I didn’t even know I had lost.

They reminded me that people are not their governments. That headlines don’t tell the whole story. That kindness is a universal language—and one we all need to speak more often.

So if you’re wondering whether to visit these places—go. Go with respect, curiosity, and an open heart. What you find may not be what you expected.

It will be better.

With hope,
Jay