My Jouney to Pakistan part 7: Working out in parks

In one of my previous posts I was saying that people don’t walk in Pakistan. Instead they take out their cars and go to where they need. I was very happy to learn that there are parks in Karachi where you can go for a walk or jog and I was even happier when we went there.

We went to Zamzama Park, a very nice park near our place, with few trees, a playground for children, a special court for skaters, benches, running tracks and even a small restaurant.

I was very impressed with how clean the park was. No food wrapper thrown on the grass, no water bottles lying around here and there, the trees and grass nicely trimmed. But I was even more impressed with how many people were there to work out.

I loved watching people on the running tracks because it gave me such a beautiful perspective on local people. I saw people walking or running in sports equipment (joggers, track suits) and people doing the same in shalwar kameez. There was a beautiful mixture of modern and traditional and the best part was that it didn’t seem like anyone was uncomfortable with this.

Apart from people running or walking on the tracks, there were others practicing yoga on their mats, while others were doing what it looked like martial arts.

Although a public place managed by Defence Housing Authority, the park has an entrance fee of 10 rupees per person (less than 0.1 euro) which help maintain the bonsai garden and offer full security.

Conclusions of the day

• Although walking on the streets is not an option, there are many parks serving this purpose. 
• Traditional and modern blend together on the running tracks without anyone looking uncomfortable.

My journey to Pakistan Part 6: People’s continuous surprise to the word “Pakistan”

If I had a penny for every time a person was surprised when hearing the word “Pakistan”, I would be rich. Richie Rich rich :) , Donald Trump rich :)

Two weeks back I met some of my former high school colleagues that I haven’t seen in more or less 10 years. Some of them were a little familiar with the changes in my personal life, but some were not and were curious to know who was the lucky man that put the ring on my finger :).

All I said was that I am married to a great man, I am very happy and he is from Pakistan. I swear that it didn’t matter that I said “great man” and “happy”. These words just vanished when Pakistan came into the sentence. For me it was a little funny as I am already used to the shocked expression on people faces. To my disappointment, the only conclusion for them was that my husband must be rich. Why else would I marry someone from Pakistan? I guess it is obvious why I didn’t keep in touch with these people for the past 10 years: they have no clue who I am and what is important to me.

Few days back I had the occasion of seeing yet another surprised face when I said I will soon go to Pakistan for few weeks. But this time there was a sign of genuine curiosity and cultural interest which I really appreciated.

I hope that people who think Pakistan is a place at the end of the world, a no man’s land, only a war zone, will get to read this. I don’t know if I should be hopeful or not, but if there is at least one person who, after reading my blog, understands that Pakistan is just another country with its goods and bads, with warm people, sunny skies, hope for the future, corruption, fights and love, then I will be happy and thankful to have taken the time to write all this.

My journey to Pakistan Part 5: Doctor and medical lab experience

When I started writing my previous post, I had in mind talking about my visit to the doctor and to a medical lab, but half way through the post I realized I got into a different story. There are so many things I want to talk about and the journey to Pakistan has been so rich in new experiences that it is very easy to get carried away with a different topic.

In my second visit to Pakistan I got sick. Really sick. It might have been the fact that I was coming from -15 degrees Celsius to +25 and I did not listen to anyone when they told me to wear something warmer in night or not to walk bear footed in the house. I woke up one morning feeling feverish and not long into the day others symptoms started to pop up. I thought it might be a common cold, then I re-self-diagnosed to a urinary infection and later in the day I started to think it may even be malaria.

I exaggerated a great deal, but my fever must have been well over 39 degrees C when I told my husband to help me, give me anything, do anything just to make me feel better. Poor him. He rushed to the pharmacy and came back with some drugs that helped lower the fever and I could get some sleep.

I have to say that in Romania if it is past 9PM and you need to go to a drug store, you must search half town to find one open. In Karachi, pharmacy, like anything else, is open till late in the night so I was lucky to get medicine even past midnight.

Feeling better the second day, I decided that a visit to the doctor can’t do much good for me. However fever spiked in the evening again and I was seriously reconsidering my options. We decided to go see my husband’s family doctor. Although it was around 7 to 8 PM the small clinic near our place was open. We waited in a small waiting room until our turn came.

The doctor’s office reminded me of the visits to the doctor from my childhood. The medical equipment was a little outdated, but clean. The doctor was a man in his 50s, very polite and speaking fluently in English. I told him the symptoms and a little about my medical history. When we got to the part where he needed to get my temperature, he took out a small paper strip and asked me to put it on my forehead. It was the first time I was seeing such a strip. Back home we use thermometers. However, there was no difference (I hope) in the accuracy. My fever was around 38.8 Celsius. The doctor wrote a recipe for some drugs and also asked me to go to a lab for some additional tests. He cracked few jokes with me and my husband, shook hands and wished us good health. The cost for the visit was around 300 rupees (less than 3 euro).

The good news was that I didn’t have malaria, which was such a relive.

We went to the medical lab for the additional tests. The lab is part of Aga Khan University, small but clean, with very professional people. We were done in no time and were happy to be informed that we will have the results very quick…over the internet. Yes, I was in Karachi, Pakistan and the medical lab had the option of giving results over the internet, just like any other medical lab in a 21^st century civilized country. The price for all that was somewhere around 1000-1500 rupees (10-15 euro), but I may be wrong about this as I was more concerned about the fever.

To my surprise, when we went to the pharmacy to buy the medicine prescribed by the doctor, we were also able to return the drugs we bought 2 days back but didn’t really need. Now that’s something cool. 

I was back on my feet very quick, cheerful and relieved that my first medical experience in Pakistan was far better than I ever imagined.

Conclusions of the day:

• As a city that seems to never sleep, Karachi offers the possibility of late night medical checkups: doctors, medical labs, pharmacies are opened till late in night.
• Medical labs are just as professional as in any other parts of the world
• Rather than self-medicate, it is better to get over the fear of doctors and go see a professional. Even if you are in a developing country like Pakistan, a professional doctor knows more about diseases that you might know.

My journey to Pakistan Part 4: Water and street restaurants

One of my biggest fears while traveling to Pakistan was getting sick and not being able to have proper medical care. I tried to pack with me all medicine I thought I may need for diseases I never had, I even called friends and asked about their experiences in different countries and what medicine they needed and didn’t have. I ended up traveling with a small pharmacy with me, mostly stomach drugs, expecting the worse from the spicy food and unsafe water.

I was advised to drink bottled water, or, if it is the case to drink tap water, I should boil it first. Bottled water was a good and affordable option so I preferred it. However, on few occasions, I had boiled and cooled tab water. It didn’t get me sick, I didn’t get any bacteria, but the taste was a bit awkward.

I enjoyed dining in nice restaurants like DHA Creek Club, Pie in the Sky Bakery, Hobnob (formerly Copper Kettle), Nando’s, Pizza Hut, but I had the best Pakistani food in small local dinners such as Thali Inn at Boatbasin or Meerut Kebab House.

The funniest thing happened in a dinner where I had the best kebab ever with halwa puri (Pakistanis love to combine hot hot food with sweet food – interesting combination, but not my personal fav). While we were waiting on our order, I was looking around me with great reservation, if not horror, thinking that such place could never exist in Romania, as it would be shut down instantly by the consumer protection authority because of insalubrity. Yes, I have to say it, it was dirty. Tables, chairs, walls…everything. So while these thoughts were going through my head, my mother in law asked me if we have similar places back home. All I could do is smile and say “No”. But, leaving aside this aspect, I have to say the food was amazingly delicious. I just loved it completely. And, to my relief, next day no stomach pain, no other unpleasant surprise. I ate in the most unsanitary place and did not get food poisoning.

However I did not escape Pakistani restaurants without food poisoning, but it came after having a beautiful romantic dinner in a “high life” restaurant near Zamzama Park. People say it might have been the fish, I say it could have been anything else.

It is not in vain that locals say that in Pakistan it is not the war that may kill you, but the water or the food. 

Conclusions of the day:

• Drink bottled water just to be on the safe side of things. Boiled tab water comes in handy as an emergency option. 
• Be careful where and what you eat: even in a fancy restaurant you can have surprises if you chose wrong 
• If you wish to try local food, choose wisely: look for crowded places (means the ingredients must be fresh) and try it from a place where you see many local people eating – they sure know the safe options

My journey to Pakistan Part 3: Rich and poor (happily together)

As a developing country, Pakistan’s social classes are very clearly separated: the poor with the poor, the rich with the rich and the poor working for the rich. I’ve seen great poverty and incredible luxury, exclusivist golf courses reachable through the slums, people living under the starry sky and others sleeping in million dollars mansions.

Disclaimer: I may be wrong about the apparent nonexistence of the middle class, as my observations are strictly based on what was available to me.

I never thought I would have someone do the dishes for me (here my sister Laura would strongly disagree because I don’t like washing dishes in evening, so she “voluntarily” washes them in morning – THANK YOU), cook, clean, iron for me, wash my clothes, water the plants and so on. And to be honest, I found it strange to have people do things for me while I read, sleep or just do nothing. But the first time I wanted to wash the dishes I was stopped by my mother in law so I decided to do as I am told: rest.

Yes, people like to rest in Pakistan. I was most of the times under the impression that people have no pre-determined schedule and that the ones who have, don’t follow it as rigorously as I am used to. This reminded me a little of my vacations in Greece where people value their leisure time greatly. But although the day may have a lazy and late start, it always seemed that Karachi never sleeps.

Rich or poor, people love to be out on the streets. Food streets (yes, there are streets only with restaurants, tea places, juice bars) get incredibly crowded after 10 PM. On these food streets you can see rich and poor people eating in the same diner, same 100 rupees dishes (less than 1 euro), drink the same tea. I loved this about Pakistan: when it gets to food and eating, manners are dropped and people are enjoying a lot.

But enough about food for now. A special post is needed just for this so I will give it it’s time and space later on.

Another place where the line between rich and poor seemed to disappear was at the sea side. Karachi is a city on the coast of the Arabian Sea and people love to go to the beach. Although sunbathing and bathing in the sea in the way that I thought of is forbidden (bathing suits are taboo and appearing half naked in public can get you into a lot of trouble), a lot of people still go to the beach even if it is just for the fun of being outside, cooling (your feet only) in water, riding a camel or a horse on the beach. Some come with their land cruisers straight on the beach and don’t even get out of the car (can’t really understand the fun of doing this), others take a more classical approach to things and walk on the fine sand.

When we went there the waves were enormous because of the monsoon season and rumors had it that some young men drowned there the day before so people were very careful about going in the water. However, it was a fun day once I got used to people staring at me.

At the end of the day everybody went back to their normal high or low class life, rich people drove back home in their air conditioned cars, while poor people walked back to their homes. Some things take time to change.

Conclusions of the day:

• class differences are very obvious, with some people living in open air with their children and their cattle(s) in one place and other people enjoying maximum luxury (just like everywhere in the world)
• it is the most common and affordable thing to have employees do all the house work for you
• good food bridges the class gap

My journey to Pakistan Part 2: A drive through Karachi

Karachi is one of the biggest cities in the world with over 11 million people (some sources talk about 18 million people). It is about 15 times the size of Bucharest, the capital of Romania. I still can’t imagine how big that is, but just for the sake of comparison , it is bigger than Paris, Istanbul or Bangkok.

Getting out of the house was a bit of a hassle. I love to walk. Love, love, love. But in Karachi, you don’t walk. You get out of the house, get into the car and go where you need to get. By car. This was my biggest problem, but I had to comply.

The streets were large and the noise was big. Small cars are the way to go around on the busy streets and people seemed a little careless to what happens to the vehicle (scratches are no issue) as long as they can get through. Rickshaws are everywhere and also lots of people on motors. And yes, buses are just like in the movies or in the pictures from the internet: colorful and overcrowded. 

I was advised not to take pictures so that people don’t get suspicious. At every light stop there were beggars coming to the car and knocking at my window. Again, being a foreigner is a big attraction for many curious people. Just like in Romania :)

Driving seems to be a gentlemen’s agreement. Sure there are rules…I guess. But the main rule is that the car honking first has priority. First few drives (on the passenger’s seat) were like a roller-coaster ride for me. First of all we were driving on the wrong side of the street. Everybody was driving on the wrong side of the street. There was a lot of honking and sometimes the priority was decided by the one who had more guts. But I was the only one surprised by the whole thing. For the rest of the people this was the normal day-to-day driving.

I didn’t get to see much of the city first time I was there. We stayed mainly around the neighborhood, which is the same with late Benazir  Bhutto’s former residence and park, a rather posh area with nice houses, embassies and parks, shopping malls and food streets.

What stroke me the most was the security: I’ve not seen a real rifle in my life before landing in Karachi. And in Karachi I’ve seen so many, that I got used to them in few days. Almost every store has a security guard with a big rifle, while at banks or jewelry stores there are several guards. Some people have heavy armed bodyguards following them around, but we were in an area with several embassies and extra security seemed appropriate. Entering a shopping mall meant having the handbag scanned and us going through a metal detector. First I felt so strange. Then I felt a little more secure. After few days I didn’t even notice.

My conclusions:

• driving around can be an extreme sport for a newbie 
• buses, rickshaws, 4 people on a small motorcycle is not uncommon
• if you are uncomfortable around guns and rifles, a visit to Pakistan will cure that in few days  (but will not get you hurt ;) )

My journey to Pakistan Part 1: Getting there – airport and first impressions

Few years back Pakistan was an abstract name for me, a name that I would hear in the news, but never pay attention to. I never took time to read about the country’s history, about its traditions and people as never in my wildest dreams I thought of getting there.

And then it happened. Cupid stoked and my life turned 180 degrees and I started to read about this far away land. If there’s anything that working in the media has taught me, it is that the least relevant information about the actual life in a country can be obtained from TV or newspapers news.

Sure reading and understanding historical, economic and political facts helped to get an idea about where this country is and what is going on in there, but to be honest nothing really prepared me for what I was about to experience on my own.

The visa procedure went surprisingly well and quick. The counselor and the ambassador of Pakistan in Romania were extremely kind and helpful.

It was interesting to observe people’s reactions to the news that I am going to Pakistan for a vacation. I guess it is not a country on the top of traveling destinations or must see places. My dad asked me to be extra careful there as he doesn’t have enough money for ransom :)

For a girl who had traveled only in Europe, the information about what to expect in Pakistan was so complex that I decided to neglect it completely. The other option was to freak out and I couldn’t let that happen.

I have to say that it was the biggest thing I have ever done: going willingly to a country listed by the ministry of foreign affairs as a war zone.

The flight was comfortable and it took less than going by train from Bucharest to Cluj (my fav city in Romania).

My first surprise was that although alcohol is forbidden in Pakistan, there were a lot of intoxicated people coming out of the plane. Sure, I can’t assume that they were locals. They could have been of other nationalities and just enjoying the last contact with Bacchus’ nectar before they reach the forbidden land. But still it was a little strange.

I reached Karachi in the night and went through passport control quite fast. They have special queues for unaccompanied ladies and people were very polite. Sure, there were questions, but nothing unexpected.

I have to admit that it was strange to see all around me people that looked different, dressed different and spoke a language that I couldn’t understand a word of.

I was advised to pick my luggage quickly and walk without talking to anyone. Before landing that seemed absurd. After landing I understood that in a foreign land you have to rely first of all on what you know and what is familiar to you and there is no reason to be brave. I picked my stuff and walked as fast as I could with a 25 kg luggage :)

And there it was: my first contact with the real thing. No spooky monster like the news were announcing all the time. Just people. Different people, but nonetheless people. Sure, for a minute or two I was the center of attention. I guess there is not every day you see a young, blonde, unaccompanied lady walking around.

The first real shock was the weather. It was the end of June and I was told that monsoon season started or was about to start (don’t really remember). But for me monsoon season and high humidity were as abstract notions as moon atmosphere. Getting out of the airport, which, by the way, was nicely air conditioned, was like walking directly into a hot air blow dryer. Although it was around 1 AM, it seemed like there were 50 degrees there. I sweated instantly in what I thought were my comfortable jeans and I have to admit I looked with high envy at the local’s shalwar kameez which seemed like a much more appropriate option.

Driving from airport to home didn’t offer me the time to see much in the 40 minutes ride because it was late in night, but I enjoyed seeing palm trees everywhere and many outdoor billboards with smiling faces and slogans I couldn’t read.

First conclusions:

• hot weather means sauna hot and humid weather means steam bath humid – like it would make your nicely straightened hair curl back to mother nature :)

• jeans are not the best option for summer in Pakistan

• people look different, talk different, dress different, but they are welcoming and polite