Where is Paddington Bear?

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone back home! Missing my family today.

As much as I wanted to sleep in and veg out in front of a TV, we had a full day ahead of us after we returned to London. We started the day by returning to Soho and having brunch at The Breakfast Club. I really liked it. We had about a 20 minute wait at noon on a Wednesday. Our server was very friendly and I thoroughly enjoyed my eggs, pancakes, potatoes, and veggie sausage. Afterwards we walked towards Buckingham Palace. I've seen the exterior before, so it wasn't super exciting, but it was mildly entertaining to watch a horse drawn carriage leave (I'm convinced it was someone important...David Cameron, maybe? I waved just in case) and guards move around and change positions. While inside the gift shop, I realized I hadn't seen much merchandise for Princess Diana (as I wanted to get my mother something). The clerk said they'd been asked to downplay her at the palace (naturally) and to try some of the souvenir shops elsewhere (no such luck, minus a mug with a giant photograph of her).

We headed towards Parliament, which was really nice, especially since you get hit with it in the face as soon as you climb out of Westminster station. Several people were "oohing" as they ascended the stairs. We took a few pictures of Big Ben and then the real jaw dropper was the Abbey. I loved Notre Dame...it was gorgeous...but Westminster just doesn't even compare. I was just mesmerized by the fan vault ceiling of Henry VII's chapel, the fact that Elizabeth I and Mary I were buried right above one another, and the sheer number of memorials and/or burial sites of some of the biggest names in English history (Lord Byron, Oliver Cromwell, Rudyard Kipling, Isaac Newton, to name a few). It was completely worth the money, but I'm just bummed we weren't allowed to take pictures.

Afterwards, we miscalculated the time it would take to walk to the National Gallery and spent about an hour running through some of the greatest works of art done by the greatest artists. I couldn't contain myself seeing Van Eyck's The Marriage of Arnolfini, Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus, Hans Holbein the Younger's The Ambassadors, and my favorite one there, Monet's Bathers at La Grenouillère. If I could have a do over, I'd give myself two more hours to take my time and process everything.

We felt like trying Indian food and found a franchise called Masala Zone back in Soho that had many favorable reviews. It was really good. We each ordered a thali with chicken tikka masala, rice, and various chutnies and sauces. I also had to ask for garlic naan. I can't go to a South Asian restaurant and not have naan. Highly recommended.

It's funny how the next day was supposed to be way easier, and unfortunately, it ended up being just as hectic. We started the morning by taking a long train ride to Wimbledon. I have no interest in tennis (except for staring at Andy Murray), but it was nice to see the exterior of the facility. At this point we were famished, so we headed all the way out east to check out Borough Market.

It was awesome. I picked up a few samples from the market to nosh on (croissant, cheese, mushroom soup, and some paella). I felt like I could just eat there everyday. We ended up eating lunch (I know right, who's hungry after all that? This glutton.) at Tapas Brindisa, a Spanish restaurant. The staff was all Spanish, so it was a bit hard to follow their thick accents. I tried to say, "gracias" after the meal, but our server corrected me and said, "grathias". He asked if I spoke Spanish, and I said "un poquito" which is a lie. Being able to say "my name is Uzma" doesn't qualify as any level of fluency in a language, but he laughed. I tried to tell him I was from Texas and that we're used to hearing Spanish because we're near Mexico, but I don't think he understood. Speaking of languages, at some point I ended up standing on the tube with a couple speaking a beautiful language I couldn't put my finger on. It sounded very German, so I asked them. They said Swiss-German. They asked where I was from (I was carrying a large travel book), and then they decided I didn't sound like I was from Texas, and that they liked Texan accents. Sorry to disappoint.

After visiting the Thames to take some pictures of Tower Bridge, we returned to Oxford Street to do some shopping. IT WAS NUTS. I swear to God, I have not seen mayhem like this before. Driving or walking...there was no getting through. I was shoved and I shoved. It was a dog eat dog world.

Random observations:

• The English are ridiculously nice people. They went out of their way several times to offer very detailed directions and didn't look put out by it either.
• The train is crazy efficient. It's easy to figure out after a couple of tries. And, when a rude woman cut in front of me and took the passage through the station exit after I'd already swiped my Oyster card, a station attendant was very nice and easily let me through.
• Paddington Bear has changed and doesn't seem to be as popular.
• They haven't seemed to have banked off the James Bond or Downton Abbey hype either.

So, after much deliberation, I think I enjoyed Paris more for its history and really attractive and tall French dudes, but I liked the efficiency and practicality of London.

The crackle of a croissant

On Tuesday we headed out to see the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. I wanted to buy all the books, but ended up settling on two and had them shipped. At this point in time, my backpack was pretty much saddled to capacity (or so I thought). We then took a cab to the Musee d'Orsay with the friendliest cab driver we'd encountered in Paris. I enjoyed the museum, but not as much as the Louvre. Obviously it's much smaller, and it was really cool to see some of the most famous Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings (Van Gogh really didn't skimp on the paint). I think my favorites were all of the Renoirs. I could've stared at the Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette for an hour. I also loved the little man at the coat check who out of the blue said to me, "I love Obama!" The best part of our late morning was sinking my teeth into a crunchy-on-the-outside-but-oh-so-soft-on-the-inside croissant from a random boulangerie near the museum. Heaven.in.a.pastry.

Our next stop was what I'd come to Paris for - which oddly enough isn't even in Paris - Versailles. I felt like a kid receiving presents for Christmas, Hannukah, and Eid all at the same time as soon as the palace was in plain view. I mean, this was the court of Louis XIV. LOUIS THE FREAKIN' FOURTEENTH. This was the mac daddy of all imperial palaces. This was where the revolutionaries overran the palace guards and accosted Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. This was where the treaty to end the Great War was signed in 1919. I just couldn't even. I still can't. We saw room after room of (some only historical recreations) of the opulence of the French monarchy. I lost track of how many portraits and sculptures there were of Louis XIV and how many battle scenes there were of Napoleon. We would've taken a tour of the gardens, but there was some construction happening and it was pretty cold.

Words of advice to international travelers: do something about that expensive smartphone that's always in your hands. Being without any texting or calling capabilities (unless you have WiFi) is problematic, especially when your train doors shut before everyone you're traveling with has gotten onto the platform. It may take a long time to be reunited. And it may involve your friend finding a cafe with wifi to send your sister back home a Facebook message so that she can text message you in Paris, because yours is the only phone that can receive and send them.

We had just enough time to take a nighttime cruise along the Sienne. As nice as it was, it was ridiculously cold. And to be honest, I know several people said it was a "must" in Paris, I felt like it was just "okay". Yes, we got great views of the Eiffel and Notre Dame all lit up at night, but if one doesn't have time to take a cruise, it's not the end of the world.

We then headed back to Gare du Nord and I made two observations.
French customs worker: Bounjour! Come back and see us!
English customs worker: Where are you going? Why? For how long? What is your departing flight? Who are you really? What's your favorite color?

I'm exaggerating slightly, but not all that much.

And some general observations:

• There's a 50% chance you'll run into someone in the service industry who doesn't speak much or any English. Some signing works.
• The trains aren't as easy to understand as the Tube in London. They don't announce stops to you either...you just have to be on the lookout. Also, see the aforementioned premature door closing situation.
• There's no concept of saying "excuse me" to get by or to apologize to someone for a wrong. This may be something that's common outside of the U.S. though.
• You have to pay to use the bathroom, even if you're a paying customer. But I think that's a continental thing.
• Finding other Americans in a sea of mostly Asian tourists is like a breath of fresh air. You'll exchange pleasantries like, "Oh, you're American too!" or "Where are you from?"
• I can pass for different races...I was asked if I was French and Brazilian(?).
• You'll end up saying merci so much that you'll feel the need to say it even when you're back in an English-speaking country.
• The seagulls are nuts. They dive bomb at you and kaw like it's the End of Days. Hitchcock would be so proud.
• French men are really attractive. Like really. And tall.
• Despite what most people said, I found most of the Parisians we encountered to be very friendly.

Bounjour, mademoiselle

Paris, France in two days. Is that even possible, you ask? Yes, but it's going to be crazy. I mean, crazy. We began our journey at about 5 am...yes, you read that correctly, to take the Eurostar train into the continent. I'd make comments about experiencing the Chunnel, except I was kind of asleep, given the ungodly hour. It's a wonder I slept at all with the American teenagers in front of me giggling about scrapbooking their Paris trip with stickers from Hobby Lobby. Sigh. And yes, that totally would've been me ten years ago.

As soon as we arrived in Paris, we hit the ground running. If you're ever in the city, the Paris Museum Pass is a must. Every travel blog I've read complains about the horrendous lines at all the major tourist attractions. I couldn't tell you about them because the Pass eliminated that problem. We asked the first cab driver we could find outside of the Gare du Nord station to take us to the Notre Dame, but he simply said, "No" and drove off. I mean, a simple "no" would've sufficed...acting like I'd asked if I could scalp you was a bit much. We got to the Notre Dame and it turned out to be everything I'd imagined. I finally got to see Abbe Suger's flying buttresses (ha, butt) that I've been teaching about for over seven years. Afterwards we ventured across the street for some coffee and croissants and discovered that some Parisian cafes are simply tourist traps.

Inside the nave

Look at that base.

We then headed to the Louvre. We had come prepared with a list of things we wanted to see, which was helpful, but the museum was super overwhelming. I felt a mild case of ADD coming on as I flocked from one piece to the next. It's too crowded to contemplate the works and we were in too much of a rush to make other things happen. I don't know what my favorite piece was. I had little interest, or rather time, to check out the ancient art, but seeing some of the old Assyrian lamassu sculptures as well as remnants of Persian temples were pretty exciting. I mean, how did a lowly high school teacher from Texas suddenly get to be in the presence of artifacts that are five thousand years old? Oh, and that's me in front of David's The Coronation of Napoleon. Please don't judge the sweater wrapped around my waist. It was easily 80 degrees in the museum.

We then took a stroll from the Place de la Concorde (where the guillotine beheadings occurred during the revolution) down to the Arch de Triomph on the Champs de Elysees. The famous street itself was pretty underwhelming. I think it could've been the result of a festival that was happening on most of it. The views of the Arch as we approached it were amazing, but climbing the structure itself was possibly one of the worst experiences of my life. Obviously I need to be in better shape, but there was a small moment in the dark stairwell when I wondered how bad it would be if I just gave up, sat down, and just lived inside forever, thus shaming the soldiers whose memory the structure honors.

The last site on our list for the day was the Eiffel. I had my doubts, but once I noticed the number of little old women and small children making their ways to the top, I figured it would be worth it. And it was. Unfortunately, the Pass doesn't help you out with the Eiffel, but the waits weren't too bad. The view was breathtaking (for its beauty and because it was ridiculously cold). Afterwards, we finally checked into our hotel, which I can't recommend enough - the Select Hotel. It's right next to the Sorbonne and walking distance from Notre Dame. We were so tired, the thought of staying in and falling asleep early was very appealing, but we forced ourselves to walk around a bit and have a mediocre dinner at a leeeeeeiiiiissssuuuurrrreeellllyyyy pace. The American in us could not handle this.

Stay tuned for Day 2 in Paris...books, Bonaparte, and a boat.

Pip Pip Cheerio...I'm in London!

When my place of work said they'd take away our three-day weekend in October in favor of a full week off in Thanksgiving, I thought they were mad. How could we, teachers and students, go without some extra time off from Labor Day until Turkey Day? The answer is, it doesn't matter, because I'm traipsing around in London and heading to Paris tomorrow.

I've been to London before...twice, actually. Once to celebrate my first birthday (good times I have no recollection of I'm sure) and another time when my family was en route from uprooting ourselves from Saudi Arabia to move back to Texas. That was in December. It did not bode well for us desert folk.

Aside from the usual flight delay mayhem, panic over being "wait-listed" when we were supposed to be confirmed, and a few unhelpful Delta employees, our travel experience was actually quite smooth. The flight crew was one of the best I've ever experienced. The moment we got off our flight, I expected to see Paddington Bear and Harry Potter paraphernalia hemorrhaging out of the city. This has not be the case so far.

After some quick freshening up at Chateau de Uzma's Auntie, we took to the tube (after topping off our Oyster Cards...I feel so British right now) to checkout the gateway to all that is wonderful and magical, Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station. My first thoughts: London is kind of like fancier America and these stations are DART stations on acid. After 45 minutes of standing in line, we were able to take our picture with the infamous Potter props. I loved that the photographers running the tourist spot were just as into it as the dozens and dozens of nerds in line.

So many nerds.

But here's the cutest one.

We continued our nerdfest by heading to Baker Street to see Sherlock's "home". My hopes for a Benedict Cumberbatch sighting were dashed.

We then headed out to Soho to meet up a former student studying abroad at Oxford and then walk around Carnaby Street, with all of its shops and restaurants. It was really pretty, seeing as how everything has been done up for Christmas already. Just eerily quiet. I feel like such places back home blare carols from loudspeakers on the street. Random notes: London is way more cosmopolitan than I remember it to be. Like way more.

Late night reflections

I wasn't planning on writing anymore on my trip to Pakistan, since I've been home for roughly two days. But, as I lay in bed, having just begrudgingly set my alarm for tomorrow morning, and my unforgiving stomach reminding me of all my poor decisions from the last two weeks, I started thinking that my last post might have been a bit rash.

I'd said that I had an issue trusting people in Pakistan. While this is still true, in some strange way, it's not either. I feel as though I can trust Pakistanis more than I can my fellow Americans when it comes to certain things. Yes, theft is definitely a concern, but that's a concern in the U.S. as well. I was thinking about how when my cousin took my sister and I out for dinner, her two year old son was bouncing around the restaurant, only to be held and tossed in the air by our waiter. This would be grounds for an altercation and perhaps legal action in the U.S. But in the Pakistani culture, this is kind of okay. The waiter had no ill intentions - he saw a cute kid and wanted to play with him.

I also thought back to our last evening, where my aunt decided to stop our car by a grilled corn vendor for a snack. We happened to run into an old friend of my father's who was on his way to the mosque. He insisted that the corn vendor take no money from us and give us cobs "on the house" because my family had known the street for 40 years.

I thought of all the relatives, immediate and extended, insisted on having my sister and I over, because no matter how far we sat on the family tree from them, we were still on the same tree nonetheless.

I thought of the jewelry shopkeeper that was run by three generations - a son, his father, and his father. The son said their business had been around for thirty years, and he used to walk to the shop after school everyday to help. He easily bent to all of our negotiations on price, and asked about life in America.

And then I thought of the airport workers from our first night, who seemed confused by our suspicions. They only wanted to make us comfortable, and move us away from a chaotic situation that could've involved muggers.

So yes, Karachi still makes me nervous. But it's still where my roots are...where many summers of my childhood were spent. And I will go back, just maybe not anytime soon :)

<3 you, Dadi!

Two government shutdowns in one year?

I'm down to my last 24 hours in Karachi. It's been a whirlwind of a trip. I don't think I'll ever get used to the driving. I feel like there's something wrong with driving 50 mph next to a cart being pulled by a donkey, especially when the cart's owner is also texting at the same time. Shouldn't there be laws on that - no texting while donkeying? But wait...there are no traffic rules...at least in most parts of the city. We drove through Defense a few nights ago to visit some relatives and the area was very well lit with grid-like street lights and signs that prohibited the use of phones while driving.

I wish the city was more accessible to foreigners. It's very difficult to go out and do things when you're not a local and are hindered by things like customs and language barriers. You're entirely dependent on people doing things for you. In some ways it's nice ("Yes, I'll take that third cup of tea") and in other cases it's frustrating, especially when I come from a country of independent people. I don't know if I can trust people. Should I hide my valuables? Can I go somewhere without a male chaperone? The more I've gone out, the more poverty I've seen. I've been seeing this for years, and it's not easy to forget, but it's something else entirely when you see it up close. There's some Slumdog Millionaire type stuff (missing limbs, eyes welded shut), but most of it is wretched and sad people trying to sell useless things, like flowers, balloons, and drawstring for your pants for money. And most of the time, if you're suckered into giving someone money (which you need to be wary of - it's organized poverty, so often times the rupees you're handing over to small children don't go to them directly), you're ambushed by every poor person in the vicinity. It's also why you can't throw scraps of food at the stray dogs and cats...no matter how many times the Sarah McLaughlin song plays in my head.

This is the wall that separates my grandmother's house from the street. This is commonplace for all homes, although I've seen many that are way more fortified than this, with built-in guard posts. When we were younger, the wall didn't have the wrought iron bars it does now. We used to sit on the edge and watch people go by, sometimes conversing with them, sometimes pelting them with mud (yeah...I don't know either). But things have changed.

The city has gone crazy...going through some type of government shutdown, known as a paya jam, or "wheel shutdown", here. People say it's normal and these things happen on occasion. There are protests against the recent slaying of some Shi'ite Muslims and years worth of unsolved murders. I made the mistake of tracking Twitter and the local news, and found all sorts of headlines that make me want to apparate back to the U.S. immediately. There are accounts of volunteers helping to distribute vaccines being murdered, and gang violence in Lyari (which is where one of our cars was mugged on the way back from the beach just days ago). But no one here seems alarmed. The shopkeepers seem annoyed because they're all being forced to close down for the day, which means an entire day's worth of business is lost in an already struggling nation. They started closing down roads earlier on Thursday, but the shutdown goes into effect Friday. Apparently you just learn about these things by word of mouth. Sarah and I have woken up to what sounds like gunfire the last two nights. Maybe it's celebratory fireworks, but who knows.

My stomach is ready for American food. I've eaten everything possible while here. I even had the opportunity to eat steak. But I think what I've eaten too much of is my grandmother's food. Who eats four chapatis in one sitting? A gluttonous granddaughter.

Plastic camels, etc.

The wedding festivities have finally come to a close. The reception yesterday was gorgeous, but we weren't really allowed to take any pictures - country club rules. The weather was really nice for an outdoor celebration. I had to help receive guests with my family (I was on gift duty) for almost two hours. My feet are still sore from standing for so long.

I made friends with a kitten at the reception I named Sammy2. She was just the cutest thing, politely meowing at everyone. When I called out, "Come here, Sammy2!" She came running and rubbed her head against my foot, just as my Sammy back home does, in those rare moments he wants to say he loves me. I haven't been seeing too many cats here; it's mostly stray dogs. There is a demon cat that runs around outside of my aunt's house. Its meows are the stuff of nightmares.

Sammy2
Afterwards, we stayed up late playing a game and talking before saying our goodbyes to Farah's friends that were flying back home to wherever they came from. The house has dwindled from about fifteen people to about six. It'll be really quiet for the rest of our stay.

Today was a more uplifting and different pace in things - my sister, Farah's friend, and I went shopping at one of the local markets. We were able to pick up a few trinkets, shawls, and jewelry. We were originally going to go by ourselves and hope for the best (what's the worst that could happen - we get ripped off?), but my uncle insisted on coming with us to help with the language barrier and bargaining. I'm so glad he did. He was a huge help. I was also able to sneak in a few pictures. The shopkeepers aren't as aggressive as the ones in the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, but they're still your typical salesmen. I'm amazed at how cheap some things are here. I bought a really nice winter shawl for $20. It would probably be at least three times as much in the U.S. I'm a little upset because I wanted a little elephant, and through some mix-up, I ended up with a little rickshaw instead.

I was a little apprehensive about the shopping experience, but nothing ended up happening. But I highly doubt people are interested in targeting shoppers who are throwing down a few U.S. dollars' equivalent on Pakistani souvenirs. I'll be a little more wary when we buy clothes over the next few days.

Question - how do you remember which is yours?
When we were heading home, I insisted on getting some fresh naan straight off the tandoor. DELICIOUS.

Happiness in carbs.

I'm kind of surprised how quickly this trip is going by. We're only here for three more days. Our evenings are filled with visiting relatives. Hopefully we can knock out shopping quickly so we can do what we've been wanting to do since we got here - spend time with our grandmother. So far there have only been short moments filled with grandmotherly hugs and kisses.

Since I didn't post this last time - chicken tikka pizza. My stomach hasn't forgiven me for this yet.

I think I've shaved five years off of my life

The days continue to go by in a blur with wedding festivities. Thursday was my cousin's actual marriage ceremony. It was a whirlwind of meeting relatives I hadn't seen in forever, many of whom didn't recognize me. It was a very beautiful service and I still can't get over the fact that my Fawah is married!

In Pakistan, it's customary to keep paid household help. This always takes some getting used to for me. Back home, if I want to get something to eat, this involves opening a fridge, staring idly, and then either slamming the door shut or finding something to microwave. Here, I have to ask the housemaid to not only check if there is something to eat, but to put it on a plate, heat it, and serve it with all necessary utensils. And if there is nothing to your liking, a separate cook will make something for you. And he doesn't appreciate requests for dishes that are beneath his skills. Want a fried egg? You'll get an omelet instead. The help gets very confused when you insist on doing things yourself, like placing dishes in a sink or ironing your clothes. But then I feel like a horrible human being asking someone to make my third cup of tea for the day (seriously, what the Hell is wrong with me...I drink tea all day here). It also weirds me out that the help has to address me using a title usually reserved for an older sister, "baji", even if they are much older than me.

Yesterday I went to visit my great-aunt (my grandmother's sister). She lives with her daughter in the military compound, reserved for families in the armed and air forces. As we crossed through the garrison, armed guards briefly swept through our car to make sure we weren't harboring any suspicious materials.

Last night was the mehndi, traditionally a pre-wedding event that involves showcasing the bride's mehndi, or henna (something Farah refused to wear), other rituals and customs (something Farah also refused to partake in), as well as dancing (which there was plenty of). My cousin's English friend described this as "the event where mating happens". An awkward and laughable description, but there was none of that happening. At least nothing that I saw nor took part in.

I've been meeting so many different people and I love it. There are people here from different cities in Pakistan, London (I LOVE English accents!), and across the U.S. It's always nice to meet another fellow American while abroad.

Today, my cousin's friends decided to drive out to the beach and hang out at someone's beach house while enjoying the sunset in the evening. Evidently, this is not an easy task. The trek to the beach is about 45 minutes long, and involves driving through one of the most dangerous parts of the country. We were told to not bring any cash or anything of value with us, and to hide phones during the drive. We made sure each car had a hired armed guard in the passenger seat to ward off attacks. The beach experience itself was a lot of fun, but I avoided wading out into the water since it was a bit chilly. We ate, listened to music, played games, set out a bonfire (the hired help did this, of course) and just hung out. When we drove home, the girls were told to take precautions by covering their heads. We made sure there was at least one boy and an armed guard in each car. And here's the WTH moment of the day - unfortunately, despite these measures, one of the cars was stopped at gunpoint by two men on motorcycles. Luckily, none of us were in that car. But the guard lost his rifle and both he and the driver were robbed of their belongings. So, moral of the story - armed guards aren't enough of a deterrent for crime.

I feel like I truly witnessed Karachi today. I don't just mean the risque road trip, but just traffic in general. I've had several moments where my life has flashed before my eyes because of the way people drive.

They don't use lanes. They swerve around recklessly, yelling and honking at each other. Traffic jams and red lights are perfect opportunities to get mugged, so at night when traffic is light, it isn't recommended to even stop at a red light. On our drive to the beach we witnessed the end of a horrific car accident involving a truck and two motorcycles. After I saw paramedics lifting a dead body onto a stretcher, and a motorcycle completely crushed underneath the truck, I had to look away, especially when someone said, "oooh, his innards are splattered all over the street". And it made me sad to think about the families that would be receiving word that their loved one had suddenly died on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

I don't know about y'all, but I think selling raw meat off the street like this is a tad bit unhygienic.

Food check: More mithai, chicken tikka pizza from Pizza Hut

Random note: My Urdu is almost flawless.

Let the wedding festivities begin

Jet lag 1, Uzma 0. The last two days have gone by in a blur. I have to think for a moment before I can process what time of day it is, let alone the day of the week. The sleep deprivation is slowly starting to eat me alive. Despite my relatively early bedtime last night, I was woken up about 4 am by what sounded like a dog involved in a solo fight for an hour. By the time I heard the last yelp, the calls to prayer had begun. Of course, as a Muslim, these are beautiful to hear. But what confuses me is why there was like a thirty minute pause between them. Isn't there like science and stuff to determine precisely when the sun rises? So then when the calls subsided, I thought for sure I could finally fall asleep, despite the sunlight creeping in through the windows. But alas, the crows took their kawing. I must've fallen asleep around 9 am, just an hour before I was awoken to begin the day.

My cousin's actual wedding is tomorrow, so my aunt's house has been a machine, trying to not only get ready for the karaoke dinner party tonight, but the wedding itself. The house has been bustling with flower arrangements, chair cushions, outdoor tents, and boxes of Pakistani sweets called mithai.

Flower arrangements for the wedding done by my oldest cousin.

Tenting.

The smells, sights, and sounds

Sarah and I got into Karachi about 4:30 am local time. Our uncle had arranged for someone to guide us through the airport, which was much appreciated. Unfortunately, due to a slight hiccup, my aunt and uncle were not immediately standing outside of the airport with the rest of the hundreds of people shouting and waving down family and friends, amidst the pungent odor of the urban poor. A tiny part of me panicked...I was alone in a relatively unfamiliar city, with two airport personnel, and no working cell phone to figure out where anyone was. Not to mention, my Urdu is quite limited. Fortunately, one of the gentlemen was kind enough to use his phone, and tried to put us at ease while we waited, by continuously drawing us away from the large crowd into a more secluded and remote part of the airport grounds. His intentions were to find us more comfortable seating and offer us tea, but my U.S. conditioning set off red flags and I ended up mumbling something about wanting to enjoy the pleasant weather in the vast open space outside, instead of sitting in a confined room where no one knew of my whereabouts. Of course, my choice involved sitting next to some rather suspect individuals who kept asking if we needed a ride. Just when I'd inadvertently locked eyes with a creepy old man eating an ice cream cone, my family arrived.

It's hard to tell just how much the city has changed in ten years, but one thing that stood out was how lit up and decorated everything is at night. It is Prophet Muhammad's (s) birthday today, known as Milad-un-Nabi, a tradition that some Muslims observe with great fanfare, and a national holiday in Pakistan. It looks like Christmas lights on steroids. Even the mosques are decorated in miles of stringed lights. Something else I noticed is that they've also upped security in neighborhoods, having created armed guard posts similar to our gated communities back home.

I was able to get a short nap in after we arrived at my aunt's house, but it was a bit difficult with roughly a million crows kawing and currently, I can't tell if all the shouting nearby is the result of some successful construction project or a pickup cricket game. I'd forgotten how lively the city sounds. The roar of a motorcycle, the putputput of a rickshaw, and the daily intervals of the call to prayer. And because of the holiday, I can hear singing and additional prayers blaring from nearby mosques in Urdu.

Of course, a visit to my relatives is not complete without at least a dozen remarks on how much weight I've put on.

My aunt and uncle.

With my grandma.

It'll be hard to post pictures of the city, as I don't really think standing in the street with my Instagram app open is a possibility. But I'll try my best!

Random note: To get the driver in front of you to either speed up or move out of your way, it is perfectly acceptable to honk at them until they oblige, which they usually do.

Food check: Mr. Burger, fresh naan.

NAAAAAN.

Greetings from Dubai

I'm currently in Dubai on my way to the mother country. My cousin, Farah, is getting married, and my sister, Sarah, and I are taking a quick trip to Karachi, Pakistan. This will be our first time there in over ten years. I'm excited and anxious at the same time.

This was my first time flying with Emirates and I have to say that I've really enjoyed the experience so far. This is largely due to the fact that the neighboring babies were unusually well-behaved (and super adorable; I just wanted to eat their faces). But honestly, I think all children come off as angels after the demon-beast from Hell on my way to Istanbul last summer.

I'm assuming many South Asian families use Emirates to fly to India, Pakistan, and various parts of the Middle East. Our flight was delayed out of Houston (airfare was almost $500 cheaper departing from there instead of Dallas; crazy, right?) for two hours because...no joke...15 elderly people needed wheelchair assistance. Please don't take this as a jab towards people who need those services. I've just never seen that happen before.

There was a funny little Indian woman on our flight. She must've decided the flight crew wasn't picking up her dinner tray quick enough, so she made a point to walk up and down Economy (from her seat in Business) to find room to leave her tray. She woke up a baby by lifting its blanket to peek at them despite the mother's protests. I watched her try to leave her tray in the bathroom before other passengers, who were also watching her, started shouting at her. I think she took this as an invitation to first accidentally dump the contents of her tray in front of a row of gentlemen, and then to leave her trash at their feet. They, including additional nearby passengers, began arguing with her, but she wandered back to her seat, leaving us plebeians behind in confusion.

I know it's lame, but I like to check out Starbucks in different countries. I usually leave mostly disappointed, because they don't have my beverages of choice, nor do they accept my plethora of gift cards.

Square donuts?

Of course, Starbucks anywhere in the world never fails to misspell my name.

Our layover in Dubai isn't long enough to leave the airport, but it's crazy long to be sitting idly. I took some time to checkout the local souvenirs and had to stop myself from buying everything for just being amusing. I took more pictures but they won't load.

After seeing family I haven't seen in ages, I guess I'm most looking forward to eating fresh naan, shopping, practicing my Urdu, and of course, watching my cousin Farah get married!