Sylvia's Journal

Yesterday we finally made it out of Sheratonland into Karachi and Pakistan, modern Pakistan that is. Modern Pakistan feels a bit like Dubai. We went to the mall which was as fancy but not as filled as the minor malls in Dubai – the same stores, many even the same as in the US. The only local touch was provided by the countless shalwar kameez and fabric stores. Pakistan is a major textile producer and processor. The designs and colors are blinding, extravagant and original.

We had lunch at the food court which could have been anywhere. We ignored the western chains and drifted towards the subcontinental ones. Chowpatty served me a vegetable thali with a lassi – at least it felt as if I was on the subcontinent.

This evening we went to a brand new park called Port Grand, according to a plaque, created by a leisure corporation and opened by two important functionaries in May 2011. It is landscaped around the harbor and under the freeways, prettied up with candelabras dangling from the freeway concrete and with small entertainment kiosks along the walk ways. Entertainment includes Tarot readings and astrologers who promise to turn your bad times into good times. Food stalls and medium fast food restaurants line the water’s edge on a pier with Yanni music blaring loud into our ears. Only the fancy shalwar kameezes of the women and girls and a few men in traditional garb gave away that we were in Pakistan.

I am learning that the shalwar kameez fashion is very long again, ankle length. When I wore my long bangladeshi outfit in 2008 local girls snickered about how out of fashion I was – the tunics then being very short. So here too the hemline goes up and down, except this has no bearing on what is revealed of the legs, since underneath are always the pants, baggy or tight.

We ate at a kebab place overlooking the harbor and taking in the harbor smells (mostly kerosene). We tried a variety of kebabs, fish, mutton, beef and chicken. Except for the naan it was an all animal protein dinner – I have drifted far away from my mainly vegetarian diet in the US. We finished our dinner with kulfi (local ice-cream) on a stick that came out of a wooden box, and masala chai variations cooked on small burners by Paxtuns who didn’t speak a word of English. All the while we shook hands with giggling girls on an evening stroll with grandma. We often forget in the US that terrorist-producing places like Pakistan have grandmas on evening strolls with their granddaughters, licking fast melting ice-cream from a stick.

Earlier in the morning we met the senior staff of the organization we are having a workshop with next week and aligned expectations. In the middle of that I had a coughing fit – I am still recovering from a nasty cold that either came from fellow travelers or from my grandson.

Afternoon naps are still a must – the long trip and the cold really took a bite out of me. And then of course I stay up till long past midnight, trying to get back in a rhythm. It is good that we have some slack time.