Return to the Western World

Return to the Western World

In the plane a few hours away from Toronto. I can't wait. I have had a fantastic trip and had a great time with family, both with old relatives and forging new relationships but I can't wait to be home. If there is anything this trip has taught me, it is that I am a true north americaner. I would find it difficult to live anywhere else, although I love experiencing different cultures and visiting different parts of the world. Azhar has written a great ode to Pakistan below so in my last post I'll give you this.


Things I'm not going to miss:

1....the scarcity of Toilet Paper. In a land where there is such a need for toilet paper, why is there never any in the bathroom? There's always some in the kitchens as it seems the concept of kitchen roll or paper towels has not yet been invented, but never any in the bathroom where it is so desperately needed. And this is based on my experiences in bathrooms in peoples homes, five star restaurants, service stations, rest stops etc. I think I brought about 500 wipes to Pakistan and used almost all of them on my 12 day trip.

2...Layering. I live in Canada, where the weather can get as cold as -30c and I have never layered more than 3 layers: base layer, tshirt, sweater, and over that a coat. If I'm skiing or going to be outdoors, I may swap out some of those layers for a warmer version but it's never more than that. In Pakistan, in the winter, as the houses are cold, and gas is sporadic, I felt like the Michelin man. It's only when I reached Germany on the return trip that I realized how tiny my kid is. This entire trip, his wardrobe consisted of leggings and a slim t, which was layered over with a pair of slim fitting old pajamas. Then at least 2 more shirts on top, a sweater and sometimes a jacket. The poor guys feet Barely fit into his shoes as he had a minimum of 2 pairs of socks on at any time. Going back to Canada and putting him in a single sleeper to sleep is going to feel weird.

3....the showers. Oh...i can't wait to shower in a north American shower! The water pressure, the way hot water just comes on a few seconds after you turn on the tap. The way you can stand in the shower for half an hour with no issues and change in the warm bathroom or hang out in a towel while leisurely selecting your clothes for the day. The way you can take a shower at any time of the day. The fact that I don't even own a Balti. Cannot wait!

On that note, here are the things I will miss:

1...the food. I'm going to miss waking up and being asked if I want fresh squeezed juice or a hot tea first thing and what I want for breakfast. When asked what they have, being told " whatever you want".

2... The lifestyle. Waking up and having nothing to do other than perform basic personal hygiene.

By the way, if anyone else is going to Pakistan in the nest bit, let me know. I have a huge stash of meds that I need to traffic somehow before expiry. Everything to do with nausea, upset stomach, heartburn, indigestion, diaharea, vomiting, gas and bloating. I have ginger chews, I have gravol, pesto bismol, Imodium, gas-x, tums, you name it I have it.

First world perceptions of the fourth world

First world perceptions of the fourth world

We have arrived. From the modern motorway, which really looks kind of like the 401, we turned out to this tooty pooty dirt road where we shared road space with cows, bicycles, Tangas, wagons and all manner of shit. No really, shit. That's not a euphemism, there really was shit everywhere.

Along the side of the road we saw various manners of dhabas, mud huts, Charpais and other forms of housing, all covered with what my son excitedly calls "chocolate cupcakes". These chocolate cupcakes, for those who don't know, are made from cow dung (Atleast I hope it's cow dung but who knows) that are used as a fuel source for cooking. They are shared into patties and put on the houses to dry out in the sun, and are the single greatest contributor to the trademark gaon scent that permeates through the air.

We finally reach the gaon and go into Aymens family home, which is a haveli style ( open courtyard with rooms off the courtyard, and then a raised roof you can walk on and see below into the home). It's bustling, there is a tent going up in the middle for the valima, people everywhere, a full service kitchen dispatching chai trays with nibbles, to various parts of the house, a busy tandoor making dozens and dozens of fresh tandoori naans, huge daygs in which food is being prepared for the nights events. We sit down for a cup of chai which is not bad but tastes, well, different. It's got milkpak in it so I'm wondering what this new flavour is. Aymen is with me and takes a sip, first words out of her mouth, it tastes like goober. What is goober? Well, it's what those aforementioned chocolate cupcakes are made of. I decided at that moment I was not drinking chai the rest of the trip.

We decided to go for a walk in the village. This was actually a lot of fun. The road in the village is filled with village children, cows, goats and chickens (basically, live dinner). Cayden had a ball, feeding the goats, running after chickens. Within ten minutes he looked exactly like the rest of the gaon children. You couldn't tell his clothes were from Zara or that he was North American. With dirt on his face, shit on his shoes, snot running down his face due to all the dirt/allergies, he looked like he fit in just fine. Yay for me!

For those of you following the blog for the potty humor and shit stories. There will be a lot of that in this post. First, the kids were treated to the sight of a large cow shitting in front of them. Or in the words of Saifaan, "Aisha aunty, that cow did potty In front of everybody!". Oh yes he did. Maneuvering a toddler out of big piles of shit while trying to avoid carrying him as his shoes and clothes are already covered in big piles of shit and who knows what else was not fun. Probably not a good idea to wear a light colored outfit that you actually like.

Cayden decided that if there was a pile of shit in the road, he was going to step in it. I don't get it, I guess it's soft and squishy? All I can say is, if there was a single piece of shit on the road, my son stepped in it. Guess he takes after his dad after all.

We ended our walk in the kaith, outside of the village walls with big open fields of saag and other crops and beautiful picturesque landscapes. Don't really have anything negative to say here, it as beautiful, the sun was setting and we were all able to indulge our filmi alter egos and take beautiful shots in fields of flowers.

My funniest experience in the gaon was talking to Aymens chacha, who lives in the US and hasn't been to Pakistan in 37 years. When I asked him if the gaon was as he remembered, he said "this is the filthiest place on earth. It's just filthy. I left here 37 years ago and it has gotten worse". When people asked us what we thought of the gaon, and we told them it was very different, he told us to stop being diplomatic. Lol.

The next morning, my stomach is feeling a little queasy. I share this with Omar who smiles and pulls out his camera to share pictures of the food preparation process. Basically all the meat was skinned and feathered on site, with carcasses laid on sheets on the floor. Then, meat was butchered and butchered pieces were tossed into a Charpai that is lined with a bed sheet where it sits in the sun till the butchering Is done. No one is wearing gloves, and apron and judging from the pics, I'm not sure if they are adhering to hand washing protocol. Oh my lord. Where is Azhar and his bootleg amoxicillin when I need it? I'm also wishing I brought my own sheets as I'm not sure of the origin of the sheets on the bed I slept on last night. Luckily it wasn't a Charpai.

Omar was smart enough to shower before heading to the village. I on the other hand, am indebted to flush able wipes and anti perspirant. The "shower" consists of a communal stone walled area that comes up to mid chest, located in the front entrance to the haveli. I am not joking. Judging from the number of shirtless men wrapped in towels I see walking around in the early morning it seemed to be very popular. I tried to convince Omar but he wasn't having it. I was later told there are indoor shower facilities for women however at this point I figured I would just shower when I returned to civilization! Our bathroom did not have a lock on the door and so taking a shower just sounded like it would be a stressful experience.

We ran out of toilet paper shortly before leaving, which to my mind signified our time in the village had come to an end.

All in all, a different experience, fun in its own way bit can I say, I am very glad we were only there for 26 hours :)

From Pindi... to the Pind!

From Pindi...to the Pind!

This blog post is long overdue. I promised Azhar I would keep his blog after he returned to the modern world, and I've drafted this blog post in my head many times but something or the other has come up since he's left, and I haven't had time to update the blog. By "something" I mean a 35 pound iPad Nazi who requires constant attention, along with an iPad in hand, but I digress ( what did parents do before iPads were invented?)

So, cayden has been missing his nana and dad like crazy. He doesn't understand why they left without him, and in turn has stick to Omar and I like white on rice since last Friday. Luckily he has a new mumani to divert his attention, who he adores (Jaane Mani!) which has been a great help.

This blog has so far focused on life in "modern day" Pakistan, namely, big town life ie the "shehars" of Lahore and Pindi. But now, we move from the shehars to the Pind! Pindi is the Pind, you say? Well, I have now been to a real life Pakistani gaon (village) and I can assure you, Pindi is a bustling metropolis compared to the gaon.

We are heading to Omar's father in laws gaon for a family valima for 2 days. Ok, about 28 hours. Yes, I calculated. My first question upon hearing that I was going to experience Pakistani rural life: will there be wifi? ( first world problems, I know). Upon being told that there was some sort of network connection but not wifi ( which I assume means one dial up connection in the entire village), I proceeded to ask less important questions like, is there running water and questions on sanitary conditions.

If you read Azhars post on packing for Pakistan, let me assure you packing for the gaon takes it to the next level! Essentially I had to plan outfits for 2 functions. Our footwear of choice: khussas ( can be disposable) and crocs ( can be hosed down and/ or boiled to sanitize, as required!). Pants too long and need heels? No problem! Just pull them up almost to Urkel level heights, and rock on. Caydens clothing consisted of frankly, anything that could be steam washed upon our return. Ensured that there were tons of stomach meds, diapers, diaper rash cream, milk pack, bottled water and of course, toilet paper packed

Those of you who know me well know I am not a minimalist. Suffice it to say I had 3 huge bags packed for the Pind because frankly I don't know what to expect. Those who have warned me that it may not be a pleasant experience.

Wish me luck!

Bye bye Pakistan! Al Vidah!

Had a really great last day in Pakistan. The original 5 Canadian contingent spent the day together in Islamabad. Just Mubashar, Omar, Aisha, Azhar, and Cayden. We sat 4000 ft high, drinking tea at Monal restaurant at the top of the mountains, toasting to a great family holiday and to Omar's Nikkah. Inshallah may he and Aymen have a bright and successful future.

So I leave Pakistan with a bit of sadness, a lot of insight into myself and with these thoughts and tips.

1. My base is Lahore. No matter where my family has moved around from country to country, My identity is from my mom. I'm Lahori through and through. Why, you ask? I'm fat, Lahori. I'm gora fair, Lahori. I'm very loud, Lahori. I love my food, Lahori. I am funny, Lahori. I swear, Lahori. i tell dirty jokes, Lahori. I have a temper, Lahori. I didn't feel unsafe at all because if anyone messed around, I just would given them one tight slap. Lahori. I must have been born again once I'd seen it. I didn't think I would miss it so much. Lahore hi Lahore hain.

2. Etiquette. Pakistani's eat formally with a spoon and fork. Sometimes it's nice to eat roti with your hands but it's also nice to be a gentleman. Banda ban! I'm also never going to complain about a public washroom in North America.

3. Pakistanis do not drink black tea with milk in the evenings. At least not in the areas I visited. Chai is fine in mornings or even at tea time, but after dinner stick to kava, made with green tea and spices. I got the recipe, so if you thought my tea was good before...watch out! Got an awesome Kashmiri Tea recipe. Going to make it every morning. Masala chai, as good as mine is, is for tourists.

4. Keep receipts for everything. People hand you receipts for all kinds of things. Bags, parking whatever. Always hold on to them as you have to show them on the way out. It doesn't make any sense. Pay 20 rupees to park, got a receipt, go in, thank you. When I'm leaving why do I have to show the damn receipt again? How do you think I got passed the heavily armed guards to get in here in the first place. This used to drive Omar crazy!!

5. It's looks crazy, but driving in Pakistan has its own fantastic flow. Accidents are rare. Just focus on your own car, and never ever go backwards, no matter what. I drove once in Pakistan to prove my manhood to myself. But I'm also adult enough to never have to prove it again. I'd much rather have a driver, and sit in the back with a newspaper and Kashmiri tea. Also, donkeys are a very suitable and efficient mode of transportation. As long as you don't mind the smell.

6. Watch where you park. They use forklifts to tow you car. Nothing like seeing your rental car 20 feet in the air. Also why bother with a road block when a shipping container full of acid will do the same job at a fraction of the price. That'll stop traffic.

7. I have always loved and enjoyed my food, but I had so much great stuff on this trip. Always order the Malai chicken tikka boti, and never order the zafrani badami leg of anything. The longer the name,the stupider the dish. Also, anything makhani is great, especially the daal. Malai is awesome, but it needs a little sprinkle of sugar to go on top of it. The Paratha is the most beautiful thing in the whole world. The croissant can kiss my ass ( though i love you too). When I die, forget the 72 virgins, I want 72 Parathay. Now if these virgins could ALSO make me Parathay, I'm willing to compromise.

7b. Some guy just said I look like Adnan Sami before he got skinny. Shit I have gained so much weight. I better crawl back into a gym.

8. Family is family and we are all connected. I felt so much love from Omar's in laws that not for one second did I think that I was with my own inlaws' inlaws. Everyone is just family. I am taking Ruby aunty with me to Toronto. We spent one day without Aymen, and we really really felt the loss of her prescence, especially Cayden. But not just that. My cousin Aftab, who I rarely see, treated me better than a brother, and just kept on giving and giving. Even after I left for Pindi, he called me everyday to tell me he missed me. I love you Affie! In Rabwah, I thought some random aunty had come to visit me. It turns out she was my moms first cousin, and even in the short time we spent together, this lady who I never knew even existed, gave me so much love, and we were able to reminisce. At Bahishti Makbarah, I realized that many of us are from one big home in India. The Khulufah, Chaudhry sb, Dr. Salam, along with so many relatives of yours and mine lie in peace together. Now it's doesn't make me want to donate everything to Wasiyat, but I'm glad someone did.

8b. I miss my grandparents. All four of them. I also thank them for emigrating and suffering many hardships so I could grow up and write this stupid-ass blog!

9. Knowing Urdu is SO SO important for the next generation. A big reason my experiences have been so good is because I wasn't an idiot trying to speak English everywhere. Punjabi is not commonly used and Urdu is king. I'm 37, had never been to Pakistan, and still learned the language, so I know it's possible. Moreover, my parents speak perfect Canadian English, so Urdu was never imposed on us. I learned Urdu from the Khans, ShahRukh, Salman and Aamir, from Mr. Bachchan, from Mohammadi Rafi and Lataji, from Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Jagjit Singh. So if someone has a problem with my son listening to Rahat or watching Hindi films, come talk to me.

10. Do not fuck with the Pakistanis! This country should absolutely not under any circumstances exist. It is a mess. Sporadic electricity at best. Not enough gas to heat your home. Danger everywhere. Absolute corruption from top to bottom. Income is close to nonexistent. Political instability ever day. Dictatorships, military rule, assassinations. Complete lawlessness. But not only does this country continue to somehow work, and grow and progress, it will stand toe to toe with anyone. The Americans bombed the shit out of Afghanistan to find OBL, but when he turned up in Abbotabad (beautiful town I hear btw), they politely captured him, said sorry sorry and bye bye. India stands strong with a billion people, and missiles pointed, and Pakistan says mess with us and Mumbai becomes Boombai. We'll make a mcbc out of Delhi. I love India I think like a mother, but respect Pakistan like a father. How did they get their hands on a nuclear weapon? These people are crazy. In Lahore they will just slap you until you bleed, in Karachi they will hold a pistol to your eye and make you piss yourself. In Peshawar they actually will bend you over, pull down your shalwar, call you Salma, and make you their bitch!

That's it for me and Pakistan! Such a great holiday. Thanks for reading. Aisha's turn.

R-town!

So while I'm so appreciative that this blog has over 2500 hits, I noticed that my daily viewership has come down a bit. Granted, some of you may just be bored of me. Others I think are just looking for juicy gossip or the latest poo pooh joke.

So yeah, I stepped in a gutter full of shit today! I hope your happy!

We had the longest day trip today to R-town (aptly named to avoid further detection and keep me from being detained). To compare, let's say I was visiting Manchester, then I took my wife on a day trip to London. Lets say we set off at 6am without breakfast and then went to visit a graveyard, met with KMV, I-sahib and A-sahib, still no breakfast, then had tea at moody mamoos, habib aunties, Lally aunties and baby aunties and phupo Salma's then drove my ass back to Manchester while eating takeaway. "That would never happen?" you say? Damn right it wouldn't, cuz that's a crazy ass day. Oh and and don't forget I stepped in shit in front of mamoos house!

I really enjoyed visiting the graveyard in R-town. There is such a sense of history both personal and on a broader scale. Distinguished members of the community are buried there, as are many of your relatives and it's just a cool way to see how we are all connected, and how we all come from the same place and our families have had such similar experiences. I am especially lucky to have visited and prayed at the feet of my Bari Ami and Bari Abu. I was close to both, never saw them enough, and didn't think I would get this opportunity. I miss them dearly. Did you know that Bari Ami was only 67 when she passed? So young!

Aisha then spent some time shopping for burkas which I don't understand. Told her she needs a burka like I need a thong. Sure it feels great on holiday, but you'll never wear it at home.

Uncle took Omar and I around to the head offices around town, meeting the many officials around town who happened to be his good friends. These guys were like top top officials, but all really nice and welcoming. Had lots of tea, chatted a bit, and one guy gave me a handkerchief from KMV. The office complexes here are just fantastic. Beautiful buildings, modern set up. This place rivals anything in Maple, Silver Springs or Southfields! I was really impressed! These guys know what they are doing.

Rest of the day was spent on the go, visiting uncles many chachas and his Mamoo. We got to see the home where he and his parents grew up. Uncle wanted to show Aymen and I and Cayden off a bit which was very sweet. They were all very nice, and one chacha in particular had spent many years in Uganda and knew my family there very well. He told me me many stories of my father, grandfather and grandfathers brother who was a devoted community member. Everyone of us at least one famous link to the community. He is mine.

One dude, a cousin, had 7 kids. 6 boys and a girl. Holy crap what's that like?

FINALLY, squeezed in a dinner of tikkas and kebabs on the go on the way home. I no longer like the concept of on the go. I want to enjoy my food experience. None of this drive thru shit. We've alhamdolillah made it back into pindi safely despite the protests. Last full day in Pakistan for me tomorrow. Aisha has agreed to continue to add to the blog as Aymens dad is going to be taking her to the pind, his actual pind!

So to recap, I stepped in shit, my thong itches and I still want my f@?&ing breakfast!

Nikaah

The Blogs might be few and far between now as the internet is barely working. Neither are the mobile networks,gas to heat the home. Power has been coming and going.

You see there's some major political action going on right here in Islamabad and its a pain in my ass! Some Canadian maulvi Qadri has put together an occupy movement and million man march all at the same time. Millions of people are descending on islamabad protesting against corruption and for fair elections. The government has tried to block their passage and has set up crazy roadblocks of shipping containers full of acid. Its not dangerous per se, but getting in and out of Islamabad is near impossible.

I just hope the airport is open on Friday or someone is going to have to adjust a bit too much.

Luckily it didn't affect the nikaah function last night. We had a lovely function last night with very friendly people and nice food. Omar and Aymen both looked great and seem really happy now that the pressure is off.

Aisha looked gorgeous but alas she's a married woman.

Wedding functions are very different here. First, everyone eats politely with a spoon and fork. We look like monkeys eating naan with our hands. Also I normally don't notice a stage setting but this one was very nice. Nice fresh flowers and I especially like how they lay out sofas on the ground level below the stage for vip ladies. keeps them out of the way.

After the nikaah reception, Aisha, C and I escorted the happy couple off.  So I got to drive in Pakistan for the first time. I didn't get to yell at anyone (boo) but honked my horn a few times and ran a couple of red lights. Nice.

For laughs, we went to this secret inside road that has this deep incline which we sailed down like a rollercoaster. "Again?" Cayden exclaimed. Sure beta, why not?

Once we arranged a babysitter, Aisha and I had a great late night youngsters outing with Aymen, her bhabi from Australia and Omar.

First kulfi falooda. You see in Pakistan when you want something desi, its all available but the restaurant could be dodgy or even unsafe especially for ladies. So most outings are held in the car. You pull up to to the joint, guy comes and takes your order and everything comes to you in the car where you sit and enjoy. I've had like 6 snacks this way. khana ka khana. And if shit goes down you just hit the gas and get the hell out of there.

Finished the night at McDonalds which is pretty much McDonalds. But here its a destination spot in a fancy park. We even paid cover! McD's is very comfortable for ladies and it is expected for you to go in and lounge. Got a full meal with the spicy chicken sandwich. Blueberry pie with custard. That was good.

Touching moment last night when Aisha thanked me for coming to Pakistan. "Why?" I ask. "You know all the Pakistani stuff. You play cricket with the kids, joke with the uncles, and the aunties just love you!" For years, I have always been great at charming the aunties. Its their hot daughters that never give me a lift.

And then Aisha called me a "little bitch"! :)

Dholki

Ok. The appetizer is done. Main course tomorrow.  (Why am I always talking about food!)

We had a great Dholki function today for Aymen and Omar. Lots and lots of ladies took over the house in fancy suits. Lots of singing, great home made food, especially the chicken salan and kebabs. Omar was the centre of attention in the ladies side and he loved every minute of it!

I on the other hand was not the centre of attention.....I tried to sing once. Everyone ignored me so I shut up and went downstairs.  :(

Great event though we really missed you all from Canada, US and Germany. Aymen is great, you will all love her. She should settle in with everyone just fine.  The only sad thing is they will live all the way in Calgary.

Her parents have been fantastic hosts. Uncle Naeem especially is totally in love with Cayden which is really touching. He calls him our "Boss". Go figure.

So Cayden has fallen asleep in uncles bed during the dholki. Uncle comes up to me, "Azhar, Boss is sleeping in my bed, how do I get him out?"

"Uncle,  I haven't figured out how to do that myself. If you want, you can sleep with me. I'm sure Aisha won't mind" (cue your laugh based on prior blog entry. Ha ha gay joke gay joke. Moving on)

Uncle replies. "No problem with me. Mr Cayden boss is now staying in my room. In fact he's now going to stay here. I will take him to my village and we will walk hand in hand and inspect my fields.  I will teach him Urdu,  Arabic and proper Punjabi.  You come back next year with 50 people and then I'll give him back." So cute.

Now about that kidnapping ransom.  Do you guys have PayPal?

I'm not gay but...

I do like some of the finer things. Luckily due to work,my benefits cover certain luxuries like massages and therapies. But today, Omar arranged for he and I to have a spa day Pakistani style!

We started at the barber in the local bazaar. First the manly looking dude took me and gave me a solid rough and tough head massage, greased up my hair and gave me a decent haircut. Then I moved on to the younger boy who I swear had the softest hands and worked the tension out of my shoulders and neck. I'm not gay but it was a good morning.

Then we went into Islamabad to a fancy mens salon. The menu is funny. They offer arm wax, half leg, makeup, crazy chick stuff. I told Omar no matter what we get done and how pretty we look we aren't allowed into the girls side tonight. Nice try though. So I got a lovely eye treatment and facial done from my new buddy Rizwan. Also got a wash and blow dry. I'm not gay but my skin feels fair and lovely. He even gave my double chin lots of love.

Not sure I'd ever do it again though. It was still a pretty pricey day out and I'm not homophobic but there was a lot of dude on dude action.

I'm not gay but...

I do like some of the finer things. Luckily due to work,my benefits cover certain luxuries like massages and therapies. But today, Omar arranged for he and I to have a spa day Pakistani style!

We started at the barber in the local bazaar. First the manly looking dude took me and gave me a solid rough and tough head massage, greased up my hair and gave me a decent haircut. Then I moved on to the younger boy who I swear had the softest hands and worked the tension out of my shoulders and neck. I'm not gay but it was a good morning.

Then we went into Islamabad to a fancy mens salon. The menu is funny. They offer arm wax, half leg, makeup, crazy chick stuff. I told Omar no matter what we get done and how pretty we look we aren't allowed into the girls side tonight. Nice try though. So I got a lovely eye treatment and facial done from my new buddy Rizwan. Also got a wash and blow dry. I'm not gay but my skin feels fair and lovely. He even gave my double chin lots of love.

Not sure I'd ever do it again though. It was still a pretty pricey day out and I'm not homophobic but there was a lot of dude on dude action.

Easy day

Not much to write in todays blog. 

I woke up at 8am with a migraine and a cough frankly caused by smoking too much in Lahore.  (A detail I thought I had hidden well from my missus). So I scrambled around in my medicine bag and took a few tablets of this and that. I come back to bed and Aisha asks what I've taken and decides I've taken way too much.
"Throw it up!" She insists. 
I say "its fine. Leave me alone. Go to sleep".
Ten minutes later WHOOSH. She gets her wish. Its not a day in Pakistan without someones head in the toilet!

So I'm just hurting and asking Aisha for help. She opens with "Idiot, what part of Smoking Kills CLEARLY written on the pack are you too stupid to understand?".
Argh! I've got the biggest headache, I just threw up and my wife is just cussing me out. And she's being funny. Totally blogworthy!

"You think your such a tough Punjabi coming from Lahore,  look at you now you little bitch!"

"One more cigarette and your sleeping with my dad and his uncle. You deserve to be in the retirement room where everyone is coughing up phlegm!

I can't fight back. I'm laughing too much!

Easy day today, just did a little last minute shopping for the Nikaah. Except I got into trouble with Aisha and Omar for being too straight forward with the vendors. Or what they would say "rude!"

You see Aisha comes from Hyderabadi and Karachi stock. Very polite, very Sindhi style, very "aap yeh, aap woh", never letting you know what they are really thinking. Her Karachi family are next level elite.

I on the other hand am half African lion and half Punjabi sher and I'm in the homeland. So I'm telling it like it is and having fun. If something these paks show us is shit I say "It's shit!".  If its overpriced I say "stop trying to rip us off". I've always been loud and I'm just trying to be funny. But you see I'm also adapting to the environment.

One thing I've learned since I've been here is that in Pakistan and especially in Punjab, these guys can say and do anything to any one. Honestly no one gets offended. No gaali, no cussing, nothing is off limits except for one thing.

When the guy shoots you in the face, that's really really rude!

Family Guy

As much as I loved Lahore, its time to go home to my family. Even if they are in Rawalpindi.

As you can imagine I've been missing my son like crazy and when he saw me he came running and wouldn't let me go.  Every fathers dream!

Cayden has only been here a few days but what a huge difference in his Urdu, both in understanding and spoken.  I brought him a puzzle with what I thought were Urdu numerals but it turns out what I brought was Arabic.  What the hell do I know? But I sat with Cayden and he picked up " ek, do, teen" all the way to 21. For us, that's a pretty big deal.  Lets hope Aisha picks up Urdu just as quickly. Lol. Aymens dad is going to charge her a 100 rupee fine each time she speaks English. My Urdu on the other hand is awesome!

Asfa likes the toilet jokes so she'll be happy to know that poor uncle has gotten sick, Omar is sick and Aadil is sick. But wait Aadil is still in Canada? I guess when one of them eats a kebab, they all get diarrhea. 

We are in shaadi mode now and having a great time with Aymens parents. Plus I'm in a jolly good Pakistani mood. Aunty heard my foodie stories and is topping them with ghar ka khana. Fantastic! Parathas with gur. Wow!

But there's only three of us accompanying the groom and there's lots of work to be done. Sat down in the evening chopping coconuts and filling hundreds of little nikaah gift bags all the while cursing you relatives who aren't here with us. "Aadil china ka, mamoo china ka, chacha china ka, shimmi shoab china ke!"

Omar wakes up from his slumber and I say "yaar, I know you cried during my wedding, but why are you making ME cry way before yours?"

All in good fun. Having a blast!

Last night in Lahore

I think I need to stop the blog right here, because I'm going to get in too much trouble for having just too much fun. Really missed Aisha today and wished I had brought her and C and uncle and Omar to Lahore. Especially tonight.

My darling Aftab has been the most generous host. I can't tell you all the wonderful things he's arranged for me while I've been here ( for fear that he might send Huma and Henna to a hotel.lol.) but I've been fed, kept warm (no small feat) and impressed.

But he's a real ULU KA PATHA!

Everytime a beggar walks by, he sends them to me. "Go to Azhar sahib. Its his car. I'm just his driver. He'll give you dollars,  he'll give you pounds!" Swarms of people just start following me around. Kamina.

Poverty here is less extreme than what I understand is the case in India but theres still lots.  But while I came here with a softer heart its become a bit hardened. I've grown annoyed with the manner in which people ask. It takes its toll. It comes across as very scripted and fake. If you give 5 they ask for 10. If you say no thank you to something they sell, they say give me money anyways and then just persist. I've also seen how no one goes hungry. There are langars which produce a lot of free food distributed in and around the city. No one sleeps on the streets. I'm sure its a more complicated problem and I've turned into a rich asshole Lahori, but its a tough one.

So it turns out an old university friend of mine, Saira, is a teacher in Lahore.  We've known each other 18 years! She's married to a former US Marine working on a special project in Islamabad so they both travel back and forth. She loves Lahore but with no gas, no heat,  no electricity even in her fancy Gulberg compound, she's happy to go home in six months. Ottawa Carleton alumni,  maybe time to set up a fund to Save Saira! Samad, Nadeem get on it!

Aisha and I last met Saira maybe 7 years ago, but she came across my blog and got in touch. So crazy!
So Aftab and I added her to our "Sad Singles away from our Spouses Support Group".

Tonight was just food place after food place. And you guys are still going to say I missed something.

But highlight was dinner. Cheema sahib is head chef/owner of Aandaz. A trained chef from the US, he bought a brothel with the most spectacular view and converted it into the best restaurant wonderfully staffed by people who ordinarily would never find honest work.  He's the most funny, gracious guy, our age,  and Aftab's dear friend. So he took us to the upper upper level and sat and had dinner with us. That's called a chefs table! He treated us to the most beautiful food, overlooking the most spectacular view of Badshai Mosque and the Lal Quila Fort and the Dera Sahib Gurdwara, while playing the most beautiful music. My whole life, this is what I dreamed Lahore would be like.

This is still the Lahore of Akbar, Jahangir and Shah Jahan.

Laanat hain gerrard street par.

I think I want to start writing this post in urdu as my English has gone bye bye.

I've learned lots of Lahori slang, most of which I cannot repeat. Adeel call me when I get back. Maza layenge!

But I can give one example.

When your friend is "german" that means he's solid, reliable, trustworthy.

When he's "china ka" he's cheap, fake, and breaks down just when you need him.

My primary experience so far is with Lahore so I'm unsure as to how to proceed. If I give a good review you'll say this is also in Karachi, Islamabad etc. If I give a negative comment you'll say "oh that's stupid Lahore". Lets "assume" my experiences exist throughout Pakistan.

It takes a few days to understand this place. The complexities are so absolutely immense. What first looks like chaos is really just a natural flow.

While Canadians are generally like ants marching to the queen. (See union station or dvp at 8am), Pakistani's are like schools and schools of fish. Each one making sure they are fed, just swimming around but never actually hitting each other. Big fish eat more, and there are plenty of bottom feeders. Oh and they shit everywhere!

I've started to become a little aggressive like the lahoris. It turns out it was always in my blood.  Haggling with waiters, yelling at motorcycles. My posh urdu speaking in laws are going to think I'm a gorilla.
Pakistanis complain a hell of a  lot. But you're at the office, in a meeting, power goes out. You want to drive home, roads closed. You want to cook dinner, your neighbourhoods don't have gas. You bitch and moan, no ones listening. Not even your donkey.

After a so so restaurant experience, I've decided to stop chasing the curry. That's the Pakistan of our mothers and grandmothers and they have fed us the best karahis and keemas and biryanis we will ever eat. Nothing will compare. Although my wifes biryani is rock solid

Modern Pakistan is about having everything from everywhere but with chaska and style. Trying to avoid it is no fun. In an evening, we can enjoy the western espressos in a posh club, followed by the most beautiful gorgeous masaladar kebabs and tikkas brought in a tray to your car window while you're parked next to porsches and beemers and benzes. Asli drive-thru. Then end the night in the rowdy H block with item numbers blasting and kashmiri chai. Chas aa gaya.

Masala fries, spicy kfc, keema pizza, that's what real desi khana is now. Go eat haleem in the retirement home. (did I mention my wifes haleem is award winning?)

I plan to return and bulldoze Lahore tikka house on Gerrard street.

Bloody chinese restaurant!

Not so fast times at Lahori high

They say you haven't been born until you've been to Lahore.

I don't know if that's true, but its been a good start so far.

After ruby aunties wonderful parathas, we set off on the Daewoo bus to Lahore.  Just the regular fare, will try the vip on the way back. Its was a good easy ride. Aisha's dad was great company as usual. He and I have built great rapport over the years so we can hang out like friends. Though he got us in trouble.   We stopped at a rest stop for coffee and were just gup shupping with some guy. I kept saying " uncle we better board" and he kept saying "koi nahin. Lots of time." We get to the bus where a very grumpy conductor informs us the whole bus was waiting on us. BLOODY CANADIANS.

Sighted from the coach. A guy wants to take a leak against a wall. Now, guys ( and some girls admit it) all know that we have all peed in funny places in our day. But this guy is at a really busy intersection, squats in full paki position,  yanks it out and then looks back and forth to see if people are looking. Mate, there are 500 cars surrounding you in a traffic jam. You're not exactly stealth. And why cant u stand like a normal person?

Get to Lahore on time and am greeted by uncles friend  Omar and my old dear cousin Aftab. Aftab and I have had plenty of good times over the years, so at this point. I'm ready to ditch the father in law and party. Ignore earlier compliment.

So I joke with uncle, "you run along, my cousin and I will be good boys and stay out of trouble.  We'll probably just go read namaz and go to bed"

Where does Afee take me first? To read namaz! Bhai bahut seeda hogaya hain!

Now Aftab may be a lahori at heart, but even he succumbs to the craziness of Lahore traffic. No lights, no stop signs, a one way is really a three way.  An hour and a half to get 10 km. The roads are filled with cars, motorcycles, bicycles, rickshaws, buses, coaches, and donkeys.  In fact the ASS kicked our ass. I should have ridden the donkey home instead of the fancy corrolla. (Yes, corrollas are fancy here. Go with it)

The reason for the jam. They are building a fancy new bus lane. Now by building, I mean two guys with pick axes tearing up the road by hand, while the third applies asphalt with a paint brush. Um. This might take a while.

Now my boy Aftab is a flash guy, so he takes me to his very flash office and home in DHA or Defence. Once getting into DHA, the whole world seems right again. Is that a traffic light? Are we stopped? Huh? Where did my friend the donkey go?

DHA is beautiful.  Big modern buildings,  beautiful plazas, parks. Afee has this modern office above a proper Levis and Dockers store. In his bathroom, munni badnam is playing! Do I pee or do I dance? You know how I love to dance? But I don't want Azhar badnam hogaya darling pee pee ke  liye.

Quiet night in. Tasty biryani. And I'm getting into the whole "help" vibe. Aftabs got a great guy sohail who is just with us always. We don't even have to put the DVD in the player! Its my brothers house so theres no takaluf.  SohaiI's mother is the cook. I've ordered my favourite breakfast of mouli paratha for tomorrow. Do we have mouli? No but it'll be here. Do I want it first time or second time? Bloody hell, how many breakfasts am I going to eat? Chalo, lets have it first time and ill decide what I feel like for second time.  Sohail is coming home with me!

I have been totally annoying Aftab asking him if everything he feeds me is safe. He tells me to shut up, eat it, and if worse comes to worse,  I'll get to see the inside of a Pakistani hospital, pull down my pants, and have a injection put in my butt. Lets hope I don't get my mcbc done!

Aisha and Omar and Cayden are en route. Safe travels.

Getting to pak

Jeddah jeddah jeddah. I was so worried about getting sick in Pakistan, I didn't think to worry about the food at the Saudi airport.  Big mistake.

Two hours before my flight I ate a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea. And my whole stomach emptied itself before we even took off. The poor flight attendant had to scramble to find more vomit bags.

And how smart am I? I put all my medication in checked baggage.

Otherwise once I had puked my guts out, the rest of my flight was fine. It was an empty plane so I was able stretch out and sleep finally.   We had a two hour delay circling Islamabad due to fog, but I didn't mind. Got a solid 7 hours.

Scariest part of the flight was getting on. The whole flight was just full of serious Taliban looking dudes. Big ones too with hats beards the whole thing. I counted five ladies on the plane. Made nice with the mullahs though. Might as well be useful.

Arrival in Islamabad

Here I am. You all said it wouldn't happen. 

So I was advised to get a porter to help me out of the airport.  Omar gave me a thousand rupees and said this is what it will cost. Aisha advised me to never ask what things cost, just tell them what you will pay. So I, thinking I'm a pro, tell the porter, "I'll give you 500 rupees or piss off". He happily agrees. Turns out he would have done it for 200. Groan.

Airport is chaotic but cool. I found wifi and was able to check in with people no problem.   People have been overall friendly and nice.

First things first. We have to set up. Get the water, phone, medication,  money exchange.  Everything is close by. But you can spend your money quite quickly.

So I'm digging the initial vibe. Don't get me wrong, its f&*cking Looney Toony here. Loud, run down, chickens and ducks everwhere. And thats the city. What does the village look like?

And again, all dudes! I would hate to be a lady here. Though they may all be at home watching Humsafar.

And usual things happen, power goes down, heating gas is low, its a bit cold. But that's no big deal. Too bad the pakisani's don't have access to our luxuries.

Ok gotta run. Tea time. Off to Lahore tomorrow.

In the depths

I've endured 8 hours locked in a middle eastern airport terminal. I've got no jokes, I find nothing funny right now. I just want this plane to come and take me. Four more hours.

I've read, shopped, watched movies, charged all my gadgets, ate, slept, even prayed and still. Time stands still. I was hoping I could sleep, but a half hour nap leaves me refreshed. I don't want to be refreshed, I want to sleep through it.

Tom Hanks made being stuck in terminal look easy. But he was in New York, there was a Burger King, and that was all bullshit.

You may be thinking, "well, maybe he saved a lot of money?" Nope. Plans changed last minute and I just had to get there. It's been a hard journey.

One thing is for sure, I better get a visa so I can visit Riyadh on the return trip. If not, I'm staying in Pakistan.

I get why people come to the West and don't go back. Give them a break. After making the trip, it's easier to make a new home someplace then make the long voyage home! And they come on boats!

Hanging around the airport.

In Jeddah, safe and sound, and now stuck. There's no way to get a transit visa for Saudi at the airport, so here I am, in the terminal for 12 hours. It's just started, and I'm miserable. From now on direct flights, don't care what it costs. Luckily Aisha and Cayden aren't here, they would be beside themselves.

There's a single coffee shop and sandwich bar. At least the airline gave me a voucher for dinner. Small victories right?

I tried to be classy and confident and walk into the first class lounge. Turns out I'm not that classy!

Speaking of classy, I have discovered the squatter! It's actually cleaner here to use because of the whole Muslim shower system. Regular toilets get really gross. And of course. No toilet paper! I left all mine in checked baggage. But I'm not complaining. I actually travel well, and am adjusting. Have actually made friends with a couple of desi guys. Good to know Urdu.

So if someone, anyone is free. Skype me or email me. I'm so fricking bored.

F*%#king JFK

So Air Canada flight to New York, I've got a nexus card, quick flight, 3 hours in New York, plenty of time to change terminals. Easy peasy right?

Not for me!

I get to JFK, New York, AMERICA, and the stupid Airtrain between terminals isn't working! They don't tell you it's not working. It just never comes. No attendants, no information booth. Nothing!

Now a tiny little bus comes by every 30 minutes to take ppl around, never stopping at the same place twice. Islamabadi's, you've got nothing on Americans. When the bus finally arrives, already full, these guys ATTACK it. Me with my "aunty suitcase" don't stand a chance. I push over an old lady to get on one. Only got two hours to my flight, I gotta do what I gotta do. We make it one stop, when the driver announces he is now travelling to Jamaica, Queens all of a sudden. 1 hour and I've made it ONE stop. stuck at terminal 8.

I finally find an illegal Indian taxi cabbie who I coax into driving me to terminal one. Thank god I know hindi. So 30 dollars later I make it to my terminal with little time to spare. ( Aisha you would have done this an hour ago, but you'd be so proud)

Saudi Airlines itself is pretty decent to Jeddah. Boarding is easy. But one funny thing. This poor innocent white guy had booked himself a nice little exit row. But upon reaching his seat, the attendant informs him he is now sitting in some random row. I think he's still arguing about it now.

I seem to be seated near the "prayer area" at the back of the aircraft. There's a good size area open, where u can do sajda. At least 8 could pray here. I'm probably not gonna, but just sayin. Actually, I probably will. Will kill some time.

SHIT, new update. White guy is reading namaaz. He's one of them....I mean US

Fun fact. Most airline movies obviously are family friendly having cut out sex and swearing. Arab friendly goes further. Small amounts of cleavage are blurred out totally drawing your attention to it. Hindi songs are out. And any MENTION of an alcohol is removed. Guy sits at a bar, orders a ____. Showing ppl drink is fine.

Dude in front of me is watching a bootleg of "This is 40" on his iPad which has a little nudity in it. So he creates this fort with blankets between his seats so no one can see.

Food on this airline was pretty decent. Chicken and saffron with roast potatoes. I even landed a second entree of tilapia and rice. Half way through the flight, they set up a buffet station with all you can eat sandwiches and fruit. No too shabby.

On board and off to Jeddah.

Alhumdilillah!

My journey begins.

So I'm off on my first flight to new york. No complaining today.  I'm very excited to be off on this adventure.

Just a little sad to be alone. I don't like leaving my family even for a day and watching cayden cry for me as I left was tough. Ill see them in 5 days and at least I get peace and quiet on the plane.

You know my friend Jamal asked "so azhar bhai is going to Pakistan for the first time? What's the big deal?" His mom responds"he's 37"

"Oh, that's different!"

I think that's the point. I'm going as an adult so have no childhood memories to compare to. No idea of what to expect other than the exaggerated warnings from my family and friends. I hope for the best and expect the worse!

All of you who know me know that I am entrenched in and appreciative of Pakistani. I sing qawalli and play cricket and wear kurtas and cook kebabs. And Pakistani women are beautiful. I even married one! Maybe even two?

And more importantly Aisha and I are going to meet our great new sister in law Aymen, and to help guide her and omar on this first leg of their own long journey.

But I'm not going im blind. The culture shock will be huge, the dangers apparent and the memories unforgettable. I'll tell you how I really see it.

So how does my wife say goodbye?

"Azhar, let me look at you, hopefully not for the last time. And if you do end up in trouble or kidnapped or in jail. I'll be sure to remember what you always tell me."

"IT'S NOT WORTH THE MONEY"

Gods new plan

Astaghfarulah

So I must have really pissed God off with my earlier rants.

And as punishment he threw some unforeseen circumstances my way cancelling my partying in London and Dubai and instead has called for me directly to him in Saudi Arabia.

Poor Omar and I spent the entire day on the phone rerouting my trip. Stupid call centres are full of idiots, 45 minute hold times, inability to process credit cards. One attendant actually spent 20 minutes with a pen and paper doing basic math to see how much money I lost. I thought Indians were smart? I'm so poor.

And what's worse, I fly back through New York and will enjoy going through US customs with a passport full of urdu and Arabic.  That inappropriate rape comment from before.  Oh that's definitely happening but now a white guy will do it.

So 30 hours to get to Islamabad and 40 hours to get back. I'm going to be so grumpy!

Packing!

“You’re going to need a lot more Imodium and underwear”

What the hell am I getting myself into?

Packing for this trip basically means going deep into the basement, and collecting all those items of clothing, that just “barely” survived the last Goodwill run.  So baggy ass faded jeans? Check.  Too tight shirt with holes? Check. I still have this sweater? Check.

Because, it seems (and I am speaking strictly from hearsay) to take clothing to Pakistan, is to gift those clothes to that country, permanently.  Because they ain’t coming back the way you found them, if at all! Lost, stolen, ripped, dirty, or just with a new car (exhaust) smell!

Of course, I can always pick up a few Hugo Bass, or a Sadida items while I’m there!

And my wife is forcing me to take an old “aunty” suitcase. No wheels, no nice handles. Just one big rectangular block filled with Pepto Bismos, Hand Sanitizer and Imodium.  Oh, and p.s. I totally did the pak thing and weighed myself with my suitcase on the bathroom scale. Would hate to be taking out items at the airport (wouldn’t be the first time)

OBTAINING THE VISA

Seriously Pakistan? Seriously?

You’re making ME jump through hoops to get a travel Visa? Seriously? Into a country where you know who was last seen vacationing before they took him on a cruise? Did he have to answer all of these damn questions?

So my father is not "technically" Pakistani, you’re afraid I don’t have the adequate family history to visit? What part of Azhar Mahmood Ahmad Janjua sounds like a white man’s name?  Do you think a single person in Canada has ever been able pronounce it?

Why are  you so worried about letting me in. Because I’m born in Toronto? Yeah, I’m sure there is an Orange Alert for Canadians who are eager to infiltrate Pakistan and cause trouble. What do you think I’ll do, pour maple syrup on the roads with my hockey stick? Only Quebecers do that...duh!

And what’s with all the questions about my education? Are you worried I spent my formative years in a Sunday School learning about crosses and wine and wafers and swine! I never should have put up that damn Christmas tree! Damn you Santa!

And all the work questions? Yes, I have a job. That’s how I paid for this ticket.  You really want to ensure that I have a job to come back to?  Well we wouldn’t want Canadians to just stay and take away jobs from hard working Pakistani’s. I always wanted to be something called a Chaprasi on something called Mall Road.

Anyways, well, thank you for the Visa, eventually. I’m glad to have finally proven that I am brown, am married to a brown girl, and have brown relatives. Also, I won’t stay long.

Also, thanks for not making me do the interview…..this could have been a whole different post.