Sat in Lahore airport using the free internet (anyone reading from European airport take note) to write my final update before I'm back in Karachi. Now I know this could mean an unprecedented 3 updates in 5 days, but what can I say? You have to give the people what they want...
I left you after wandering round "old" Karachi, and after writing the last entry Michael and I went to the Mughal restaurant in the hotel, wonderfully called "Dumphukt". More excellent curry was enjoyed as we planned for the next day, deciding we should start the morning at the Lahore museum, then on to Jehangir and Noor Jehan's mausoleums, before returning to the tasteful (and tasty) Croweaters gallery/cafe for lunch. The mausoleums and surrounding complexes were beautiful, and we spent a few happy hours wandering round in the sun, much as Jehangir would have done 350 years ago. Only without the dancing girls and wine. For those of you following the Mughal king family line, Jehangir and Noor Jehan were Shah Jehan's parents and Mumtaz Mehal's aunt and uncle. I'm sure Wikipedia would do a better job of explaining it all.
The apparently famous "old man of Wagha". He's in the Lonely Planet don't you know...
Every evening at 5 crowds amass in grandstands on both sides of the border, with plenty of flag waving and shouts of “Pakistan/Hindustan zindabad!” (Long live Pakistan/India depending on which side you’re on). This is followed by a military procession straight out of the ministry of silly walks, with lots of hands on hips and puffing out of chests; very, very camp and great fun. Enjoy!
Dinner was at an enchanting little restaurant called Cooco’s, owned and opened by the Lahori artist Iqbal Hussain who, again, I first saw on the aforementioned documentary. His paintings of prostitutes from Lahore’s red-light district are highly controversial in Pakistan, but they are very impressive and the restaurant holds a small collection which I was eager to see.
Aside from the art, and the delicious, if extremely spicy food, the main attraction was the exquisite night-time view of the beautifully lit Badshahi mosque, which goes up in my estimation every time I see it, and is certainly amongst the most impressive buildings I’ve had the honour of seeing.
Badshahi Mosque by nightI’ve had a fantastic few days in Lahore, and I very much hope to return at some point in the future. Now I’m off back to Karachi for shopping, swimming, and beating Michael at crib. I’ll try and backdate on my first couple of days in Karachi tomorrow whilst Michael tries to show his Urdu teacher the fruits of my labour, as I have been trying to drill the Urdu alphabet into his head over the course of the trip. Slowly but surely, slowly but surely.
Txx
*No, not the curry house opposite in Uppermill. Sometimes I have to put these in because I can hear my dad's voice in my head making these awful jokes.
So, after Michael's latest extended bumper edition I'm going to try and keep it brief and succinct. More about my first few days in Karachi when I get back there on Friday (update due on Saturday), for now it's going to be about Lahore.
What a city. We arrived this morning on the 8 o'clock flight and checked into the luxury of the Pearl Continental (Google it, you'll see what I mean. No more 10 quid hostels for me!) before heading out with our driver and guide to see the sights of this former Mughal capital. I'll say it again, what a city. I had no idea what to expect from Lahore apart from what I'd heard of some Mughal buildings and that there was more evidence of the British Raj here than I'd seen in Karachi. I'd completely underestimated things. On the drive from the hotel into the city, The Mall - as the main road is called - is lined with beautiful colonial architecture, converted into courts, universities, museums and post offices. It's lined with trees on both sides, and if it weren't for the mad Pakistani traffic, it wouldn't seem out of place next to Whitehall. Pushing further into the city, the traffic gets progressively crazier, with brightly coloured rickshaws and motorbikes darting in and out of lanes of badly organised cars and buses. Our first stop was at the Lahore fort, directly opposite the Badshahi mosque. Without wanting to seem ignorant, I simply had no idea that buildings like that existed outside of the Taj Mahal. The fort is wonderfully palacial and has been excellently preserved since it's construction and development over the 16th and 17th centuries by the Mughals and Sikhs, with huge elephant steps leading up to a "palace of mirrors" built by Shah Jehan (of Taj Mahal fame) for his favourite wife Mumtaz Mahal. There are many wonderful stories associated with various parts of the fort, my favourite of which is of the British using the palacial quadrant gardens as colonial tennis courts.
Leaving the fort you are left standing in front of the breathtaking Badshahi mosque, built in 1674 by the Mughal emporer Aurangzeb. The complex is awe-inspiringly massive, it can hold up to 60,000 worshippers at any one time, and is immaculately decorated with floral and Qurranic murals. I've taken more photos than I know what to do with, so when I have my camera and my laptop at hand I will definitely, definitely upload some, although this is the kind of building that photos simply will not do justice to. It also has stunning and bizarre acoustic properties, leaving any visitor in no doubt of the exquisite skill of the architects at a time when we were such a long way behind.
The afternoon was spent wandering round "old" Lahore, the inside of the walled city that reminded me a lot of Islamic Cairo, except with motorbikes, no tourists, and no plastic pyramids or dancing stuffed camels. And it was soo much bigger. The whole place had a feeling of authenticity about it, a feeling like it hadn't really changed much over the last 400 years. It was dirty, smelly, fly covered, teeming with people and with open sewers running down the sides of the street. It was wonderful. It's the kind of atmosphere I love, the kind of place I could spend hours and hours wandering around. Brilliant.
Tomorrow we're off to Shalimar gardens, of which I now expect great things, and then to the Indian border at Wagha to see the closing ceremony. Muchos photos and perhaps even a video (whooo, aahah) will be added when I'm back in Karachi, power willing.
Love to all, txxxx
is how my AS-Level politics teacher described me with dismay as he wrote my dismal attendance on my mid-term monitoring, referring to trips to Barcelona, Iceland, France and New York. Incredibly fortunate as I have been to travel in my 21 years, the next couple of weeks are going to be the fullest embodiment of this title. Yesterday (I think) I left Alexandria on the airport bus at 12.00 noon, arriving at Cairo airport at 17.00. My flight from Cairo to Dubai was delayed, meaning I didn’t get in until 01.00 local time, before spending a tortured night in Dubai airport and flying out at 08.00 the next morning, arriving in Karachi at 11.00 local. On Wednesday I make the quick hop up to Lahore before returning here on Friday, where I have another week before I shoot back to Cairo. Via Dubai. Two days later I jump on what I suspect will be the longest flight of my life thus far as I go all trans-Atlantic on a 12 hour monster journey to New York, getting to spend a full 3hours in the living nightmare that is JFK before spending another 5 hours on the flight to Phoenix. Then I drive 2 hours down to Tucson for two weeks, before reversing the journey to leave me in Cairo on the 23rd April. Then I’d better get back to Alex before Madame Magda personally hunts me down. And I’m excited about every second.
Last night in Dubai airport was crazy, the place is full, busy and open 24 hours a day. Looking out over the massive duty free mall bustling with people at 5am is inconceivably disorientating, I’d never seen anything like it. Full marks to Emirates though; a thoroughly pleasant flight from Cairo was followed by an extended nap on the flight to Karachi. Sleep was much needed.
I’m writing from Michael’s airy and spacious apartment in the Karachi district of Defence, a pretty, leafy and affluent part of town. Today has been my first taste of Pakistani life, and I have to admit to being thoroughly impressed. I’ve just been given quick tour around a few shopping places to get food, as it seems Michael has eaten himself out of house and home, stopping at a few bookshops, cafés and DVD retailers on the way. The heat is fairly energy sapping so constant refuels are a must, and tonight I get to go for my first proper curry for ages. I can’t wait. I’m completely exhausted though, hence the slight incoherence in my thoughts. Mmm curry.
All for now, I’ll try and update with some photos soonish!
Happy Easter!
Txx
Being 21 allows me to:
- Adopt a child.
- Supervise a learner driver if you have held, and still hold, a full licence for that type of car for at least three years. You can apply for a provisional licence to drive a large passenger vehicle.
- Obtain a flight navigator’s licence, a flight engineer’s licence or an airline transport pilot’s licence to fly an aeroplane, helicopter or gyroplane.
- Be sent to prison if I receive a custodial sentence.
- Become a Member of Parliament, a local councillor or a local mayor.
- Drink in the US (something that has only recently become relevant).
Friday 14th March 2008 was my 21st birthday. Birthdays are usually something I’m fairly ambivalent towards, this year especially as I’m so far away from family and the plans I’d made with Andrea had been left up the chute (Alan loves...?). A few times in recent weeks I had sort of half-said perhaps we should maybe go possibly for drinks on Thursday night, as I was coming to Cairo on Friday for dinner with Michael (who was in town along with 36 children from his school in Karachi), but by Thursday my plans had progressed no further, and, with some gentle persuasion from Tall Tom I agreed to drinks at our place. We agreed 7ish-8ish and went to Miami to get a haircut. This story is for another entry; sadly I didn’t get any pictures. I went home and chatted briefly to Andrea before her computer decided it was lactose intolerant and stopped playing. Tom ordered in some beers and I put on a shirt, blew up some balloons and put up some of the birthday paraphernalia sent from the UK by my darling mother. By half eight, I admit to being slightly perturbed at the poor showing from my friends, although I was enjoying beer and chocolate covered dates with almonds with Sian, Aala and Dalia who had come along. Suddenly I was rushed out of the flat in a flurry of balloons (beautifully pluralised “Balaneen” in Arabic) and packed into Shams’ car before being whisked off, with a few pickup stops, to a mystery destination. This was a well organised and nicely executed kidnapping with no warning. My only suspicions had been aroused when Tom uncharacteristically beat me at Pro Evolution Soccer earlier in the day. Arriving at a flat in the holiday complex of Mamora I was greeted by all my friends from TAFL and a load of the guys from rugby. An excellent party ensued with plenty of Egyptian beer and foreign booze, no complaining neighbours and a pleasantly warm evening. I’m not entirely sure who to thank, the organisers and helpers have kept themselves very quiet, but THANKYOU to all involved, you know who you are. I had an awesome night and couldn’t have asked for a better birthday bash, I hope you had a good night. Thankyou!
After catching up on some sleep I boarded the 3 o’clock to Cairo to meet Michael and his school. I had a nice meal and a fun weekend meeting and getting to know the young ladies and gentlemen of the British Overseas School Karachi, whose behaviour, manners and enthusiasm were exemplary, and whom I look forward to seeing in Karachi in a few weeks.
Thanks again for the party and for all the birthday wishes, I’d love to respond to everyone individually but this week is going to be crazy as I try and do mid-term exams as well as preparing for my trip to Karachi on Friday. All for now, hopefully more before I leave!
Lots of love,
Txx
So, as the more observant amongst you may have noticed, my latest update has been somewhat delayed. The last couple of weeks have been long and exhausting and the hardest I’ve had in Egypt, but in order to tell the full story I have to go way, way back to Some Time Before Christmas and introduce you to someone who, until now, has only had fleeting references in this blog (for reasons I with which I shall not bore you but about whom I will write with beautifully positioned prepositions).
I first met Andrea Alice Richardson in the upstairs of the TAFL centre, where she introduced herself to me in beautiful flowing Fusha with a charming American accent. At the time I was confused as to why we were speaking Arabic, English made more sense to me, but she was sticking earnestly to a “Pledge” she had made to speak only Arabic. This thankfully only lasted until an English/American sojourn to a Café and Bar, where I was impressed by Andrea’s remarkable sheesha-smoking ability and captivating smile. Apparently won-over by my remarkable eyebrows, my not-so-secret love of JT and my shorts and dad-sandals combination, she agreed to go out with me a few times and before I knew it we’d been on a wonderful weekend trip to Cairo and Andrea had become a huge part of my happiness and feeling of settled-ness here. Time and space do not allow for accounts of the many unforgettable adventures we’ve been on together and I will always regret being unable to write about them at the time, but it suffices to say that my time here would not have been the same without her.
Andrea and me somewhere in the Western Desert
On Saturday, 23rd February I awoke to the sound of my phone. Still half asleep I staggered over to answer it, smiling as I saw “Andrea Calling” written in Arabic on the screen accompanied by the little picture of a chick which she chose for herself when she first gave me her number 5 months or so earlier. Writing about the 24 hours that followed me answering that phone call is a near impossible task, as my memories are a kind of painful, terrifying blur, but I will never forget how, in broken English, an unfamiliar voice told me “This person has had an accident in the road”. These last few weeks has been dominated by two moments, the second of which will follow. That moment, just a split-second before Andrea snatched the phone from the woman telling me where she was and vaguely what had happened, unwittingly putting me instantly at ease, lasted a lifetime. In that second, a flood of questions instantly hit me, the answer to every single one of which I didn’t want to know, dreading my darkest fears would be realised. I don’t think I’ll ever feel more perversely grateful to hear someone tell me they’ve been hit by a car and are lying in the road as I felt when I heard Andrea’s voice. That glimmer of relief vanished in a heartbeat as I raced to find her, thankfully arriving before the ambulance, from where I could only look on helplessly as the person I love screamed in heart-wrenching pain.
Andrea had been hit by a kind of minibus called a Mashroua which drives up and down the Corniche taking passengers for the equivalent of 5p. The Corniche is an enormous 10 lane freeway which runs the 18km length of Alexandria. It is perilously fast and claims tens if not hundreds of lives a year, as people attempt to cross in the areas where there is a sickening absence of tunnels or walkways. At the point Andrea crossed at, the Corniche is 5 lanes wide, with all traffic travelling in one direction. I found her in the road, conscious and surrounded by helpful and concerned onlookers who had phoned an ambulance, made sure she was not moved and applied first aid to a cut on her face. 3 hospitals, a lot of x-rays and hours of pain later we discovered that Andrea had suffered a nasty break (that’s the medical term ;) to her upper right femur which needed surgery fairly urgently. As you can probably guess I’m being fairly impressionistic in my overlooking the details of the day, it was completely horrendous and involved long hours of negotiating with parents, insurance companies and doctors the world over as well as a programme manager.
The evening of the accident and the few lonely nights that followed were indescribably tough as I tried to come to terms with what had happened and the implications were for our relationship, my time in Egypt, the plans we’d made and, medically, for Andrea. The second moment began to nag at me. The “what if?” moment. What if Andrea hadn’t tripped? What if I’d been with her? What if she’d come straight to my place? What if, what if, what if? For those first few days it engulfed me, leaving me angry, frustrated and completely unable to deal with anything. What didn’t happen plagued me more than what had, and I almost completely missed the flip-side of the “what if?” coin. What if the bus hadn’t been able to swerve? What if it’d been going 5 mph faster? What if I hadn’t arrived before the ambulance? What if she hadn’t been conscious when I arrived? When I consider the darker possibilities, I can only be left feeling grateful for the sad reality of what happened.
I’m now going to scan-forward, like a video tape, giving a very general gist of what happened in a squeaky voice. Andrea was in a lot of pain. The nurses gave her lot of pain killers. Many important visitors came and went, leaving the hospital room full of flowers. Most of the TAFL centre visited, which cheered Andrea up endlessly. Her girlfriends were amazing at taking care of her. The pain continued, as did the drugs. Daddy Richardson arrived from the States. More negotiations with aforementioned problematic insurance company ensued. Andrea managed to get a flight back to the States 10 days after being admitted to hospital and is now sat at home in Arizona recovering and recuperating. At least I hope that’s what she’s doing.
I’m now starting to try to adjust to life here without Andrea, and it’s going to be harder than I’d ever imagined. We always knew we’d have to say a tough goodbye sometime, but neither of us had been prepared for it to be so soon and under such difficult circumstances. Thankfully before she left I was able to buy tickets to visit her after I get back from my eagerly anticipated trip to Pakistan, and knowing when I will see her again helps a lot. Still, everything here holds a memory of which Andrea is inextricably a part (one gold star for that delightfully fronted preposition) and I will miss her terribly. I’ll keep writing over the next few weeks, in two weeks you’ll have to temporarily suspend belief as I write not as Tom In Egypt, but as Tom In Pakistan, followed closely by a Tom In Tucson exclusive. All these special editions, you lucky readers you.
In other news, Friday saw my international debut on the rugby field as part of the all-star rest of the world team that beat Team Egypt in their first match. Watching a hapless England lose to Scotland on Saturday leads me to think my Six Nations call up is only a matter of time...
Tx
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