The hardest part about blogging, at least for me, seems to be keeping a series going until completion.

I never finished my series of blog posts about my experience on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?”  In fact, I never even wrote the post I was most excited about: the recap of my performance.

And I never finished writing about my time in Pakistan.

I have my excuses, I suppose.
Somehow, within a month of returning from Lahore, my computer, my wife’s computer, my iPhone, and two of my wristwatches all ended up broken.  Then my mom broke.  (Her cancer decided to make a resurgence, and she has been in the hospital for about 6 weeks undergoing an entirely new course of treatment.  There were some incredibly severe complications at first, but thankfully, it seems like she is finally on the mend.)

In any case, things are getting better, and I’m digging out of my hole.
I have a new iPhone.  My computer is in about 50 pieces, and I hope to put it all back together this week.  Sarah just needs a new battery for hers.

I’ve been to a couple of new sports venues recently, and I really want to start reviewing stadiums here.  A Pakistani blog asked me to write a guest post for them about my time in Lahore.

Hopefully, I’ll get around to clearing my backlog soon.

http://www.nunesmagician.com/2012/1/18/2717463/gary-sent-me-this-photo-saying-im-here-in-lahore-pakistan-where-i

And just like that, it’s over.
Off to the airport.
Lhe-auh-JFK-dca

Sent from my iPhone

Lahore is a modern city in every sense of the word.
In fact, “modern” in the developing world sense might be even more modern than in the western sense. Lahore has a little bit of everything and is probably about as representative of Pakistan as a city like Washington, DC, is of the US–both completely representative and not really representative at all.  If you ask me about “Lahore,” I feel like I can give you a decent first-hand account.  Ask me about “Pakistan,” and the best I can muster is an informed outsider’s view.
(Although I hope to do better after the next trip, tentatively scheduled for shortly after the US election in November.  Maybe I can be the next Guy Delisle and turn my wife’s travel needs into interesting writing.  Islamabad and Multan are on the bill.)

Things aren’t necessarily as easy here as they are at home in the States, but overall, life isn’t too hard if you reach a certain standing. Fortunately, there is enough social mobility so that that standing is largely attainable. Fortunately for me is that (like pretty much all westerners here), I am running entirely in circles that have attained that standing.

Here is how I’m managing life:
(There isn’t anything new in the below. You can find all sorts of good, first-hand practical advice on community-based sites like Wikitravel and Thorntree. Other bloggers, like Expat Heather, have some better insights for westerners in Lahore than I can provide after three weeks on the ground here.  But here are my experiences, for what they’re worth.)

Money

At the moment, the exchange rate is about 90 Pakistani Rupees to the US dollar.  That makes it

1. Very inexpensive to spend time here, and
2. Pretty easy to do conversions in your head.

ATMs aren’t quite as omnipresent as they are in large US cities, but they’re not too far behind.  I actually haven’t needed to use one yet (my father-in-law is bankrolling me at the moment–we’ll settle up at the end), but I should be in good shape when I need cash.

Nicer restaurants and shops take credit cards–Visa and Mastercard are pretty much always the best bet internationally (I’m using my Capital One card to avoid foreign exchange fees), but I’ve even seen shops taking American Express.  You definitely want to keep cash on hand, though.  Credit card use, while more widespread than I expected, is still the exception to the rule.

Coins are fairly rare and not particularly useful (probably why vending machines simply do not exist here).  Bank notes start at 5 rupees, which is less than 6 US cents at the moment.

Just about everything is cheap by US standards.
You can fill up on street food for under 50 US cents.  Add a drink and you can still keep your lunch well under a dollar.

We took my father-in-law to a trendy restaurant for this birthday.  We fed 5 adults and 2 kids for about US$55.  A dinner at a place of that caliber would run at least $200 at home.

Local clothes start cheap, remain affordable if you shop some local designers (super trendy designer T-shirts for the equivalent of $10 for the sort of t-shirt that would cost $40 at home), but go into the stratosphere for couture labels.  Don’t forget that there is plenty of money here–MM Alam road has a Mercedes dealer.  Western labels (Levis, Nike, Dockers, etc) are easily found but will run you just as much as they do in the US.  Counterfeits are widely available, and some look pretty convincing.  But I’m staying away.

Shoeshine?  15 PKR.

Decent haircut? 100 PKR.

X-ray?  200 rupees.  More on that later.

Inflation is a real problem here.  Things that are very affordable to me are growing out of reach of some people.  Beggars are happy to receive 20 rupees.  I try to realize just how lucky I am.

Dress

A sizable proportion of men, and more than a handful of women, wear Western clothes.  It seems like pretty much anyone can get away with wearing local or Western at any time.

Before I came, I wasn’t sure what I’d wear more.  I didn’t want to look like a wanna-be in local clothes, but I also didn’t want to seem like I was too good for them.  But honestly, it’s a non-issue.

In higher-end areas, I feel a little awkward wearing desi clothes.
In most of the city, I feel slightly more comfortable in shalwar khameez.

Don’t stress about it.

Language/Communications

I still haven’t figured out the dynamics of who speaks Urdu and who speaks Punjabi, but it seems like everyone has at least a small smattering of both and, at the very least, a small smattering of English (it seems like every shopkeeper can count in English).

If you’re hanging out with middle class (or above) people doing middle class things, you’ll find that you’re essentially in an English speaking country (which Pakistan is in an legalistic sense–English is an official language).

A smattering or Urdu will certainly help (at least mind your “acha”s and “theek hai”s), and the Urdu alphabet will help even more (you’ll be surprised how many English words get transliterated into Urdu), but this is definitely an English-friendly country.  There do exist Pakistanis who only speak English.
It’s mostly British English with some Pakistani terms thrown in (it took me a while to figure out that a geiser–pronounced “geezer”–is a hot water heater).  The Pakistani English accent is quite pleasant and easy to understand.

"Free Calls," phonetically.

I have a local pre-paid cell phone number.  As a foreigner, you’re supposed to go to a cell phone company’s service center with your passport to sign up.  But my uncle-in-law bought me a pre-paid SIM from a corner shop and registered it for me (bending the rules was kind of a necessity due to a minor emergency back home that meant I needed a number ASAP).  Since I have an unlocked iPhone, all I had to do was pop in the SIM.

The local number was about 2 US dollars.  I’m not entirely sure what rate I’m paying for calls, but I think it’s around 1-2 US cents per minute for local calls and even calls home to the US.  Incoming calls are free.  When I need to recharge, I buy a card at a corner shop.  The minutes last a while unless I’m using data on my iPhone, which is relatively slow and expensive, but still bearable.  I’m using ZONG Pre-paid, by the way, and their coverage is good here in Lahore.  My only complaint is that their English-language prompts for checking your balance aren’t always accurate.  Supposedly Telenor TalkShawk has the best coverage nationwide, but I can’t vouch for that.

(The cell phone is a big change from my last extended stay abroad–four months in France in 2004.  Even a pre-paid was too expensive for me to justify at that time.)

I’ve spotted a handful of Internet cafes, and many people have wifi in their homes.  As I said, you can get EDGE data on your phone.  Speeds are adequate.

I still need to find a post office to mail my post cards (which are available in a small handful of places).  I can’t really comment on the post office, but I’ve sent mail to and received mail from here with luck before.

Servants

It’s South Asia, so you know there will be servants around the house.  I figured they would either be an amazing luxury or a little awkward to have around.  Or maybe both.

Actually, I’ve found that neither is really the case.  I barely notice them.  (Although they do notice me. The cleaning lady here brought her daughter today just to see me.)

The exception is the driver, with whom I’ve sort of become friends.

Since I’m not quite sure how to interact with the help, I err on the side of politeness, which seems to catch some of them off guard.  I probably don’t have to be as friendly as I’m being, but it doesn’t hurt.  I’m probably the only American most of them will ever meet.

In the two households I’ve spent time in, there has been a definite hierarchy amongst the help, and I get the sense that that’s pretty typical. As a traveler, it’s interesting for me to have the opportunity to interact with people from a wide range of socioeconomic backgrounds under a single roof.

Media

There are multiple good English-language newspapers.

I haven’t really listened to the radio. (I really wish I brought a radio with me.)

You can still buy cassettes here.

There is far less local English-language TV than you might expect.  I still bemoan the loss of Express 24/7 for more reasons than you can imagine.
International English channels are available, and everyone has cable.  Many of the channels come from India.  There are lots of good sports options, too.  Unfortunately, HDTV is still pretty rare.

At 6:30pm on weeknights on Express TV, you can watch the 2nd greatest television show in history, “Khabron Se Aage.”

Doraemon: Gadget Cat from the Future seems to be on air 26 hours a day.

TV is fun to watch until it’s time for…

Load-shedding
(AKA rolling blackouts.)

Other than traffic, load-shedding is the only thing I dislike about Lahore.
The power goes off for a couple of hours a time a few times a day because supplies are inadequate.  It’s frustrating, but it doesn’t take long to learn to live with it.  Shops and hotels have generators which kick on within a few seconds.  It usually happens about 5 minutes after the hour along a mostly-recurring schedule, so it’s relatively predictable.

Many people have uninterrupted power supplies in their homes to power a few outlets.  Basically, the more you spend on a UPS, the less the load-shedding impacts you.  “Torch” means “flashlight.”

I have not had to experience it yet, but gas load shedding is an even sadder reality in some areas.
Since the winters are relatively mild here in Lahore (it only drops below freezing a few nights per year), homes are built with gas-fed space heaters instead of central heating.  If the gas goes out, the pilot goes out.  If the pilot goes out and the gas comes back on, you end up breathing the fumes all night long.  People have died, so it’s no surprise that load shedding is a political issue.

Anyway, we have to turn off the heat before bed.  With enough blankets and thermals, you stay pretty warm, but it’s still an annoyance.  I wear a hat to bed, which I enjoy for its quaintness.

Health

Dengue Brigade

You’re supposed to get a handful of vaccines before traveling here, but I was busy.  Plus, dengue season is over and Lahore isn’t really a hotbed for many other diseases, so I figured I’d be ok.  So far, my luck has held out.

It’s the winter, and there is a cold going around.  I had a touch of it, but it wasn’t bad at all.  Just your average, run-of-the-mill January cold.

My sister-in-law had to go to the doctor the other day.  The office visit didn’t require an appointment and was only PKR 300.  I’ve heard that Pakistan is an up-and-coming destination for medical tourism, and I’m not surprised.  Fortunately, I haven’t fallen sick yet, but I would be in good hands if I were to.

I did get my knee X-rayed (I fell off a Segway in DC two months ago, and it has been bothering me ever since).  Due the load-shedding, it took four trips to the office to get it done.  But even despite the repeat visits, it was still easier than in the US.  No referral, no wait, and no insurance BS.  I walked in, paid my US$4.75, got 2 X-rays from an English-speaking tech, consulted with a British-trained doctor, and was out the door in 15.  (Diagnosis: sprained patella tendon.  Wear a bandage for two weeks.)

When ya gotta go…

Veni, vidi, vici!

I finally got to scratch “use an eastern toilet” off my bucket list.  It’s slightly easier to use than you’d expect.

I’ve seen plenty of both Western and Eastern toilets around.  I have no idea which is more common.  I’ve only used the toilet out once, in a mid-range restaurant, and it was fine.  But overall, the idea of using public restrooms here terrifies me.  I’m impressing myself by how I’ve taught myself to not notice that I’m holding it.

Laundry

Has definitely been my biggest challenge so far, but that’s more of a symptom of my living situation than of any structural problem here (people seem pretty good about personal hygiene–this is an Islamic country, after all).  I’m living with new family, and I don’t want to be any burden, so I haven’t really asked to have much washed.  Cologne is my new best friend.

Transport

Another challenge, as I mentioned.  But the locals manage, and there are enough autorickshaws that you should be able to manage fine if you’re here on your own.

Food/Drink

Incredibly delicious, affordable, and worthy of its own post.
I don’t miss Western food at all, but there are plenty of options should I begin to miss it (McDonald’s, KFC, Pizza Hut, Subway, Hardees, and plenty of nicer places.)

I’m flexitarian at home, and there is actually plenty of good veg food here.  But I’ve had more meat on this trip than I’ve had in the past few years combined.  This is a country that loves its meat.  People keep stuffing my face with it, and it’s delicious.

Fruit tastes better here.  I’m a convert to the Kinnow orange.

Between the fruit and the tea, my body is alive with flavonoids!
I’ve really grown to love being served tea a few times per day; I think it’s the buffalo milk that makes it extra delicious.  Offices seem to have great coffee, but coffee snobs might stick their noses up–it’s mostly instant.  Coke and Pepsi are omnipresent.

It’s amazing how quickly you forget that alcohol even exists when it’s nowhere to be seen.

They tell you not to drink the water, but I’m a team player, and I don’t want to seem like a snob to Sarah’s family.  So I’ve been drinking it here at her house fairly often.  It looks, smells, and tastes fine, so if I haven’t brought a bottle home with me, I chance it.  So far, so good.  I try not to chance it if I’m not in this house, though.

I think the water is safe to shower and brush your teeth with pretty much everywhere.

Security

See the previous post.

If you are wondering how I’m managing anything else, feel free to ask in the comments!
(I’m waiting…)

How I spent my wedding vacation

Pakistan entry stamp

With Colombian and now Pakistani entry stamps in my passport, I feel like I’ve finally earned some serious travel cred. The thing is, Lahore really doesn’t feel edgy enough to warrant bragging rights. Yes, this is the post where I’ll talk about safety, and the short version is that I feel very safe here.

Now, the disclaimer: I’m not sure how much nuance I can provide given that I’ve spent 2 weeks being chauffeured around one city by longtime locals. There are travel warnings out about Pakistan, and they are mostly there for a reason. But at worst, it’s not bad at all here, at least in Lahore. I wouldn’t venture to Peshawar or most of Baluchistan right now, even though I’m dying to go, but Punjab seems to get the green light.

Granta 112: Pakistan

A little over a year ago, the literary journal “Granta” published an issue devoted to Pakistan. Their website had a set of special features on “how to write about Pakistan.” Check out number III: “Brand Pakistan.” Sure, it’s tongue-in-cheek, but honestly, pretty much everyone thinks that way. Be honest: when you found out I was here, you worried about me, didn’t you? At least a little?

I even know plenty of Pakistani expats in the US who worried for me. In fact, a fair amount of Pakistani expats themselves have some reservations about coming back home (remember Babu Bhatt on Seinfeld?). They probably paint a more optimistic view than Mortimer would, but even recent emigrants have given me some gentle warnings. One even told me to spend my entire stay indoors. If their/my/your hair stands on end just a little, it’s not entirely without justification.

I’ve done the macabre Lahore tour.

Liberty Chowk, Lahore ("where the Sri Lankan team was attacked.")

“Can you show me where the Sri Lankan team was attacked?”

“There were some blasts in your development, weren’t there, Uncle?” “Gary, that’s the training academy that the terrorists took over for a few hours.”

I had some incredible nihari a few blocks away from where the Raymond Davis incident began. Sarah and I were browsing Liberty Market a few days ago, and I asked her what part of the market had the bombing. “Alhamdillilah, they never bombed Liberty!”
But sadly, Google proved me right–the bomb went off pretty much right where we were parked.

Liberty Market.

When I looked out the hotel window the morning after our wedding and saw a protest march going by,

Jalsa--protest march

I got nervous for a second. And apologies to my Shia friends, but those black flags you see flying really intimidate the hell out of me. But don’t let fear rule you–they’re not dangerous. Actually, the most dangerous thing I’ve been doing here is probably drinking the tap water. Shit happens, but life goes on, and the odds of being in the wrong place at the wrong time are slim. If, God forbid, something bad were to happen to me here, it will be on the news at home. That’s because it would be a newsworthy event, which by definition, means it would be a relatively rare occurrence. Of course if, God forbid, something like that were to happen, I’m sure there would be some “hiker hate” thrown in my direction. But most hiker haters really don’t know what they are talking about, so I won’t let that bother me.

I’m more comfortable here than Sarah is with me being here. She is erring further on the side of caution than I am, which is the hardest part of the trip for me. Yesterday was Friday; I wanted to visit the mosque. She advised against it–just so I didn’t run into any uncomfortable conversations. That was probably the right decision, but things like that are a little hard for me to swallow. I am not used to feeling dependent or asking permission.

Sarah actually lectured me a bit when I went to a polo match by myself. But I was just fine. I almost certainly would have been fine at the mosque, too. I’ve already figured that out, and my minders are learning that, too. I hardly get a second glance when we go out. No harassment, no touts. Not even many stares. A few glances, maybe. But overall, no one pays any special attention to me.

For years, people have been telling me that I could pass for a Pathan in Pakistan. Just wear a Pathan cap and desi dress. And stay quiet (not quite as good of an option as learning Pashto, but more feasible). Any time I was told that, I smiled and agreed, but I never really believed it. But it’s a good looking hat, so I’ve been wearing it. And I still can’t believe it, but at least two people have asked my family if I’m from the Tribal Areas.

I'm not fooling anyone.

It’s almost absurd to me that someone could mistake me for a Pathan tribesman. Sure, the hat might fool a couple of

Getting excellent mileage out of that hat.

people, but common sense alone should tell you that it’s not much of a disguise. And the evidence bears that out. I’ve had to buy “Foreigner” tickets at three tourist sites so far. (Foreigners are charged about 200 PKR–about $2.20–for entry to sites that only cost about 10 PKR–11 cents–for locals. I don’t really mind.)

I’ll admit it: I stand out a little. I feel like there are three things keeping me safe.

1. I am with locals at all time. The day I escaped from my cage and went to the polo match, I also took a walk around a park. I did draw a little attention there.  I definitely stood out a little bit more. Or, if that wasn’t it, maybe I just looked a little more suspicious. Wandering around with a grandfatherly-looking father-in-law and two kids under 11 makes me look like an unlikely candidate to be the next Raymond Davis, even if I do catch people’s eyes. Combined with the fact that they know their way around, I have to admit that I am safer with family. However, that doesn’t mean that I would be unsafe without them.
2. There is almost no tourism here to speak of. A trickle, maybe, but that’s it nowadays.  (At one point, Lahore was a moderately touristy city, so many people have seen foreigners at one point or another, but not in abundance for a while.)  It’s particularly strange for me to visit the big tourist sites, like the Lahore Fort, and be the only foreigner there. (Even more startling when you realize I’m only about 10 miles from an international border). But the fact remains that Pakistan is pretty far off the tourism radar. Until yesterday, when I spotted a van full of white people at Shalimar Gardens, I had only seen one white person here (although I’ll give partial credit to the brown folks with US accents who I assume were second generation Americans visiting their grandparents). Ironically, this lack of tourism makes for a great travel destination. And not just for the bragging rights. With so few tourists, there is no industry of ripping off tourists. I had a great time in Costa Rica a few years ago, but the capital was a place where you could not let your guard down. With so many wealthy foreign tourists wandering around San Jose and similar touristy cities in the developing world, a cottage industry has emerged to take advantage of them. I’ve read that if I were to visit touristy Amritsar, India (about 20 miles from here), I could expect to feel safe but heavily  hassled.  But with no such tourism, no such industry exists here. I feel like I can whip out my camera pretty much anywhere without fear. No one is looking for easy prey.
3. Finally, I feel safe simply because the city is, by and large, safe.
   There are armed guards everywhere, but that’s the norm in many countries. They check your truck for explosives before entering a couple of areas, but that’s the exception, not the rule. There are metal detectors all over the place, but most of them are ignored.  Street crime isn’t any more of a concern here than anywhere.  There isn’t nearly enough poverty to drive people to desperation.
   There is a difference between danger and fear.  Unfortunately, the human mind rarely matches the two up appropriately.  Lahore is a city with slightly more danger than the average city yet significantly less fear.  It might sound odd to tell you that every single day I pass at least two attack sites without giving them a second thought.  But that’s just how life works.  And the locals–the people who have far more of a stake in this place than I do–go about life as usual.  The odds are on our side.
   

   Security Guard

I expected to feel relatively comfortable here, but even I have been pleasantly surprised by how at ease am I am able to be. My guard is never entirely down, and for the first time ever, I’ve lied and told people that I’m Canadian.  But I am not at all on edge.

I feel pretty.
(I was going to write, “I feel pretty safe here,” to end things, but my wife thought “I feel pretty” was a better ending. You know…Sarah–my wife! I got married! I’ll have to write a post about that, too!)

Why I'm here.

This word Hindostan means “black place,” for in the Persian language “hind” is “black,” and “stan” is “place.” You may guess, therefore, that the people in Hindostan are very dark; yet they are not quite black, and some of the ladies are only of a light brown complexion.

What a large country Hindostan is! Has it an emperor of its own, as China has? No: large as it is, it belongs to the little country called England.

How did the English get it?

They conquered it by little and little. When first they came there, they found there a Mahomedan people, called the Moguls. These Moguls had conquered Hindostan: but by degrees the English conquered them, and became masters of all the land.

—FL Mortimer, “Far Off,” 1852

Once upon a time, in the mid-1800s, there was a children’s author in England named Favell Lee Mortimer.  She wrote a lot about other cultures and about Hell; ironic, considering that she reportedly only left England for two brief trips and actively planned on avoiding Hell at all costs.

Her books are long since out of copyright, so you can read some online for free here.  Check her out.  I didn’t quote any of the juicy parts.

Mortimer was a product of her era.  And, considering the era, her modern reputation of a laughingstock might not be entirely deserved.  She was remarkably well-informed for a 19th-Century homebody, and her audience was school kids.  But still.  She was an Orientalist in the Edward Said sense of the term.  She had, it seemed, the right intentions.  But she was a jingoist.  “Racist,” and “ignorant,” might also be apt adjectives.  But mostly, she was a homebody writing about the world.

Almost as absurd as the idea of Mortimer writing books about Asian cultures is the fact that I spent almost five years working on a Pakistani TV show without ever visiting the region.

It’s good to finally be here.

I’ve blogged a few first impressions, and hopefully my next post will talk about what I’ve seen and done on the trip so far and what my days have been like.
But in case you don’t know already, here’s the story of…

How I ended up in Pakistan

It’s actually a pretty standard story, and most of you know it already.  Boy meets girl, yada yada yada, Pakistan!

Despite having very little background in South Asia, I was recommended for a job at a new Urdu-language TV show that was launching in Washington, DC, in 2005.  I took the job and really enjoyed it for a year until I moved back to New Jersey to take care of my grandmother.  I was gone from the show for a year almost to the day, but people remembered me.  When they needed a part-time producer to work two consecutive days per week, the Executive Producer called me.  My mom and I arranged a Nurse’s Assistant to care for my grandmom the two days per week when I was out of town.

In the year I was gone, a new producer named Sarah joined the team, and we became cordial coworkers, but nothing more.

After my grandmom passed away in 2008, I decided I wanted to go on a big trip to clear my head and to devote some time to myself before returning to the workforce full time.  I had learned a little Urdu and a fair amount about Pakistan and India, so why not take the train from London to Bangalore?

My boss was behind me and green-lighted the trip…until a new project came along.  After that project, I got the green light again, and I had nearly finalized the plans for my trip: Pakistani visa, Indian visa, new camera, new backpack, and places to stay were all in my possession.  But another new project popped up and the the trip was postponed again.  Almost immediately after that project passed, I had an opportunity for career advancement with my show that I couldn’t pass up, and the trip was permanently scrubbed.

My job with the Urdu TV show would now require me to come into work at 4am.
Sarah was also assigned to the new 4am shift, and misery loves company.   Our colleagues on the morning shift would go home to their families at the end of the day, but we were both alone in the city.  1pm is an odd hour to have time to yourself in DC, so Sarah and I would often wind up coming up with a makeshift plan as we walked out of the office each day.  Wanna grab lunch?  Then lunches and museums.  Conversations. Movies. Finally, dinners.  Next thing you know, we’re engaged, and next next thing you know, I’m in Pakistan 29 hours away from being married.

It’s hard for me to see myself as a groom.
It’s also hard for me to believe I’m in Pakistan.  Yet it’s equally hard for me to believe that I’ve never been here before.  After so many years of working in a Pakistani office each day, nothing really feels that exotic here unless I really make my self stop and think about it.

In any event, I know that I’m VERY happy to be both a temporary Lahori and a (hopefully permanent) husband!

I guess the next step is to visit Francophone Africa, since that’s where my current show is aired!

—–

By the way, “gora” is Urdu for “white guy.”  “Gora in Lahore-a” just seemed like a cutesy title for the series of blog posts dealing with my time here.  It’s not really all that clever of a title, and I’m surprised no one has used it before.  In any event, it gets the job done.

Ya Allah the traffic!

You have this mental image of developing world traffic, particularly in Asia.  But friends and coworkers have told me time and time again over the years that that’s not Pakistan.  Egypt, India…sure.  But not Pakistan.  I took their word for it.

Now that I’m here, people are still telling me that the stereotypical developing world traffic that I’m sitting in almost every day is not Pakistan.  They’re just doing some construction.  It’s never this bad.

Once again, I guess I’ll take their word for it.  I haven’t even been here for a week, so I’ll give folks the benefit of the doubt.  But last night it took us well over an hour to get to the first wedding event (mayun) and only 10 minutes to get back.  Today’s trip to the Lahore Museum was similarly congested.

My uncle-in-law to-be has been playing this sitar CD in the car.  It really sets the mood.  Riding around feels like being in a movie, especially when we have a driver.  Listening to the local music, seeing a world go by that looks just like dozens of b-roll shots I’ve watched at work, seeing the occasional recognizable site (We did a report on Shaukat Khannaum Hospital!  I’ve met the people on those political posters!)…I have to remind myself it’s real.  On foot, I walk purposefully.  But in the car, I gawk.  So, I’ve mostly been having fun with the traffic.

But it’s not a curiosity for the people who have to deal with it on a daily basis.  It’s sad, really; public transportation is woefully inadequate and, from what I understand, somewhat stigmatized.  The city seems incredibly spread-out…absolutely sprawling.  You need to get around, but you’re mostly on your own.

There is poverty, but there is also enough affluence that it seems like a motorbike is within everyone’s reach or, at the very least, realistic aspirations.  And the number of multi-car families is also growing.

Add that up, and you get the traffic that I’m talking about.  Cars, trucks, motorbikes (I saw six people on one today), donkey carts, horse carts, auto-rickshaws, vendors (goldfish wallah?!?!?), bicycles, the occasional man hauling a cart, beggars, and pedestrians.

It’s a shame.  I’ve never seen a city so desperate for good public transportation.
Before I arrived, my expectation was that, of the cities I’ve visited, Lahore would most closely resemble Bogota, Colombia  (Los Angeles now also slightly comes to mind, but Bogota more so).  The cities themselves are rather different, but of the places I’ve visited, it’s the best comparison.  One of the things that has really transformed Bogota into a more livable city has been the Transmilenio, its Bus Rapid Transit system.  Lahore seems to desperately need something like this.  I hear they’ve been talking about a light rail system for decades, but who knows what will become of that.  InshaAllah…

My favorite thing about the USA is our infrastructure.  My least favorite thing about the US is overly rigid zoning.  So, I like the fact that Lahore has grown rather organically.  It really feels like a city of neighborhoods.  Actually, more like an agglomeration of neighborhoods.  But it grew organically in too much of an auto-centric way, and the low-density sprawl needs some sort of transit infrastructure to keep pace with it–you can’t just dump people into the streets and have them fend for themselves.  I really feel like a good, modern bus transit system could solve a lot of the problems relatively effectively and inexpensively.  It would make the city far more livable.  Besides that, shalwar khameez and dupatas seem particularly ill-suited to motorbikes.

Despite the chaos, the system more-or-less works.  In my admittedly limited experience, I haven’t seen any accidents yet (although I often think of my friend, Brent, who was killed in a road accident in India).  Traffic has never hit a complete stand-still.  I haven’t seen a single stop sign, but the lights are obeyed and the traffic police won’t hesitate to pull over folks who don’t respect the rules.  The roads seem to be in good condition.  Signs point the right way.  Construction projects are underway. No sore throat yet means good air quality. And maybe most admirably, the city has managed to retain a ton of green space despite the strain on the roads and the constant push to build more.

Could I ever drive here?  I wouldn’t say “never,” but honestly, never is definitely a possibility.  If I could get used to everything being on the other side of the road, and if someone would finally teach me how to drive a stick, I might, at some point, feel up to braving the chaos.  It definitely looks tough, but not quite insurmountable.

***

Happy New Year, by the way!

(It seems mostly like a non-event here, at least compared to the US.  Although I’m pretty sure I’m hearing my first ever celebratory gunfire!)

******

(Update on Jan. 15: Traffic still isn’t good by any means, but things have become slightly better in the days since I wrote this.  And many areas are downright pleasant to drive around outside of rush hours.)

Aside from pilots, does anyone really like to fly?

I read an article a few weeks ago that suggested that going for walks has psychological benefits.  The gist was that since the human mind evolved with walking as its only means of transportation, the brain essentially works at a walking pace.  By going for a stroll, the authors argue, we move our bodies at the speed most sensible to our minds and therefore are better able to relax and make sense of things.

There is something about riding the rails, too (at least to my Western mind).  I don’t have the exact quote, but Paul Theroux wrote that “trains combine the best features of a cupboard with forward motion.”
Trains are efficient, tidy, and generally pretty comfortable.  You move quickly, but you still maintain your sense of place and can easily make sense of things.

Theroux hated buses.  I’ve found it funny how, depending on the country, buses and trains trade roles.  In some places one is quick, expensive, and reliable, and the other is something the poor tolerate.  There’s a romance associated with trains in the West, but not everywhere.

But planes?

They’re cramped and expensive.  The recycled air spreads germs.  The low air pressure wears you out.  Sarah and I were lucky enough to be upgraded to business class on the 12 hour haul from JFK to Abu Dhabi, and it was pretty sweet.

Sign at AUH

But at the end of the day, it was still only a means to an end: getting from point A to point B as quickly as possible. It’s the same everywhere.

Probably the worst thing about planes is that fact that they are so efficient that you lose your sense of place.  You miss out on things.  Things that should be magical are not.  The video monitor says you’re over Armenia.  Cool.  Too bad I can’t see any monasteries.  Is there time to start another movie?

I noticed that we were over Iran right before I got up to use the restroom.  I peeked out the window in the lavatory; for just a few seconds, there we no clouds.  I could look down and see some hills below me.  Holy crap!  I was looking at Iran!

But only for a second.

A few hours later, the UAE.  An anonymous terminal, noteworthy only for the fact that they were showing a plane crash movie and for the amount of duty-free liquor available here in Arabia.  Another cramped seat back up into the night (coach this time), then down again, and it’s Pakistan.  It’s amazing.  We’ve come so far so (relatively) quickly.  Yet also amazing is just how disorienting it is.  You really have to stop and think about things before you get a sense of where you are.

So that’s what I’m doing now.

How about this: by car, I am less than 6 hours from Afghanistan and under an hour from India. Not to mention the fact that–holy crap–I’m in Pakistan!

When you think about that, it’s pretty amazing.  Here I am!

Equally amazing is what’s followed me.

At a lunch (well, I’m getting married, so I guess it was a “family lunch”), I met a Syracuse alum, someone else who was living in Syracuse while I was, someone who personally knew one of my old bosses, a few people who had seen my TV show, and someone who may have been on the same flight as Sarah and I.

After spending five years with a Pakistani TV show in the US, I really feel pretty comfortable here.  But when I stop and think about both how far away from home I am and how things from home have followed me, the simultaneous nearness and distance are a little disorienting.

I’m still getting my bearings.

The next few posts will be temporarily password protected for security reasons.

Let me know if you’d like the password.  They’ll become public in the relatively near future–probably in a month or so.

I’ll also try to get back to the Millionaire recap relatively soon, too.

EDIT 01/24/2012: I’ve taken the passwords off.  All posts I wrote in Pakistan are now publicly viewable.