After weeks of anxious waiting our Pakistani journalists visas finally came through - at the eleventh hour. The idea that we might not make it to Pakistan was unthinkable. It's so important for us to go there, not just in terms of its significance for the project and its role in global affairs, but on a deeply personal level.

Though I have English seaside air to thank for any robustness I may have, the earth of Pakistan nurtured my parents, grandparents and ancestors as far back as I know. I'm the first transplanted sapling in the line to arrive on home counties soil. It's only natural then, that I know when I land in Pakistan, something's going to flip over inside my heart and I will feel the visceral tug of my roots.

Once what we're doing is clear to the people we meet, I reckon Pakistanis will go that extra mile to help us out. It's been five years since I last visited and I'm remembering all the good things: the sound of the dhol drum, eating nihari in Lahore, the green wheatfields of the Punjab, riotous colour and above all, that Pakistani warmth that I want to hang on to, no matter how British I might feel. Here's a picture of the Lahore skyline - you can pick out which parts of it are mosque, fort and Sikh gurdwara.

Thanks to the fabulous Osamas worldwide who are uploading themselves - keep it coming! A little birdy tells me there might be some Japanese Osamas out there...