I wouldn't be surprised if all of our readers had given up on us entirely by this point -- and who'd blame you?! But I've been feeling as though our blog is unfinished, and wanted to put it to bed.
So: we've been back in the US for almost two weeks, and life is the same and yet entirely different post-trip. There are some aesthetic changes (a new rug and some elephant-themed pillow covers in the sunroom, a fancy new duvet set on the bed) and some differences in routine (a lot more chai in our lives and four packages of paratha in the freezer), but for me the biggest shift has been one in mindset.
In a lot of ways, or trip feels as though it was one part reality, two parts crazy dream. I refrained from getting too personal on this blog, but it was my first time seeing my Dad (and many, many members of my extended family) in sixteen years. I left Karachi 100 lifetimes ago -- before Smith, before Chicago, before I found a man (and a career!) that I love. And yet as so much has changed in my own life, I found that many things -- though not all -- had stayed the same over there. Over the last few weeks, it was incredibly gratifying to have the opportunity to rediscover the city I grew up in. As someone who's always prided herself on her independent ways, I also loved being able to introduce Nick to my humongo extended family. We've agreed: it's nice to know there's a gang of people on the other side of the world who've got our backs.
Finally, there was a tremendous, unexpected corollary benefit to this trip. I had untold amounts of down time (as you may have guessed from the number of blog posts that appeared here) and it allowed me and Nick to just...hang out in jammies. Read magazines. Play Scrabble. Talk. We slowed down and enjoyed each other's company in a way that, sadly, probably hasn't happened since our dating days. Even as the demands of real life creep back upon us here in Racine, we're committed to keeping the TV off and some of the extraneous things at bay, just so we can keep getting in front of each other in a real way, just as we did while we were on vacation.
So now, what's next for the Traveling Pittses? This is another tough question. Pakistan is far, far away (REALLY far) and American working culture sports a real distaste for anything resembling true vacation time. We're both committed to going back in the future, but nobody knows when, exactly, that will be -- which is a bit sad in and of itself. So the ol' blog is going into hibernation for a bit (although I think you should all try and convince Nick to share his parting thoughts as well). We were shocked and humbled by all the people who confessed to following along, and owe a huge thank-you to the people who kept track of our comings and goings this past holiday.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year!
We're back home in the USA, unpacking and catching up with family and making lots of time to snuggle with the dog. If you'll hang in there, we still have a few more posts left in us. Stay tuned...
Sunday, December 28, 2008
More questions from the audience
Keep 'em coming!
How well do the people there speak English? Is everyone educated in our language? As I mentioned briefly in an earlier post, English comprehension is what defines the class divide here in Pakistan. I would say all (not most) educated people speak both English and Urdu fluently -- in many cases, better than your average American. I asked my cousin Eman yesterday which of those two languages he would consider primary, and he said that he's equally comfortable in both (this may be a bit of an anomaly since his parents lived in the US for quite sometime and his siblings are all citizens, but it gives you an idea). In fact, lots of people here speak a combination of both English and Urdu in daily life, combining words from both languages. Government business is often conducted in English -- in addition to its overall prevalence, this is probably a holdover from British colonial days.
However, it's another story when you go out and about and comingle with people of different social classes. The servants at my Dad's house have varying degrees of English comprehension -- some no more than a few words, and some with basic understanding. When I lived here with my mom and sister, I'd say that our house staff understood more English than average out of necessity. Yesterday, at Sunday Bazaar, most of the vendors knew some English words but we'd have been out of luck without Rafia Phoophoo. It's good to know Urdu if you're planning to make a life here.
The home that your Dad and his family currently live in...is that the home that you were in during your Karachi time? No, it's not. I lived in two different houses here, and we've driven past both of them during the trip. My Dad's house is the most modest one we've seen (he occupies the bottom half of a duplex), although Nick and I did take a tour of the place the Niazi family is moving to in early 2009, and that's on par with many of the nicer homes we've seen. We have a short film tour saved on our videocamera that we'll try to post from Dubai.
You mentioned you avoided veggies and fruits that were unpeeled. Why? Unusual bacteria and viruses for travellers? Or something worse, like typhoid and cholera? All of the above! I'm actually not sure about cholera, but I do know that my mother contracted typhoid from drinking unpurified water in carpet shops and had to spend ten days in the hospital as a result. Mostly, though, people were concerned about a lack of built-in immunity on our part leading to Montezuma's Revenge -- which can obviously translate into other things, like dehydration, etc. I don't want to get too graphic on the blog but let's just say that our experience with paan left both my husband and I with a taste of good ol' Montezuma. I blame the leaf the paan was wrapped in.
One of the things that Nick and I have marveled at on this trip is the amazing hospitality we've been shown, and the fact that it's even extended to our upset tummies! When we were both sick (a span of about two to two and a half days) we'd be visiting with relatives and the state of our stomachs was [seemingly] a point of national concern. Literally EVERYONE was asking "How are you feeling? What are you taking? How's your digestion?" It was hilarious (and yet also so nice). I can't imagine having a serious discussion back home in the US with family and/or close friends about the current state of my bathroom habits but hey, there you go.
How well do the people there speak English? Is everyone educated in our language? As I mentioned briefly in an earlier post, English comprehension is what defines the class divide here in Pakistan. I would say all (not most) educated people speak both English and Urdu fluently -- in many cases, better than your average American. I asked my cousin Eman yesterday which of those two languages he would consider primary, and he said that he's equally comfortable in both (this may be a bit of an anomaly since his parents lived in the US for quite sometime and his siblings are all citizens, but it gives you an idea). In fact, lots of people here speak a combination of both English and Urdu in daily life, combining words from both languages. Government business is often conducted in English -- in addition to its overall prevalence, this is probably a holdover from British colonial days.
However, it's another story when you go out and about and comingle with people of different social classes. The servants at my Dad's house have varying degrees of English comprehension -- some no more than a few words, and some with basic understanding. When I lived here with my mom and sister, I'd say that our house staff understood more English than average out of necessity. Yesterday, at Sunday Bazaar, most of the vendors knew some English words but we'd have been out of luck without Rafia Phoophoo. It's good to know Urdu if you're planning to make a life here.
The home that your Dad and his family currently live in...is that the home that you were in during your Karachi time? No, it's not. I lived in two different houses here, and we've driven past both of them during the trip. My Dad's house is the most modest one we've seen (he occupies the bottom half of a duplex), although Nick and I did take a tour of the place the Niazi family is moving to in early 2009, and that's on par with many of the nicer homes we've seen. We have a short film tour saved on our videocamera that we'll try to post from Dubai.
You mentioned you avoided veggies and fruits that were unpeeled. Why? Unusual bacteria and viruses for travellers? Or something worse, like typhoid and cholera? All of the above! I'm actually not sure about cholera, but I do know that my mother contracted typhoid from drinking unpurified water in carpet shops and had to spend ten days in the hospital as a result. Mostly, though, people were concerned about a lack of built-in immunity on our part leading to Montezuma's Revenge -- which can obviously translate into other things, like dehydration, etc. I don't want to get too graphic on the blog but let's just say that our experience with paan left both my husband and I with a taste of good ol' Montezuma. I blame the leaf the paan was wrapped in.
One of the things that Nick and I have marveled at on this trip is the amazing hospitality we've been shown, and the fact that it's even extended to our upset tummies! When we were both sick (a span of about two to two and a half days) we'd be visiting with relatives and the state of our stomachs was [seemingly] a point of national concern. Literally EVERYONE was asking "How are you feeling? What are you taking? How's your digestion?" It was hilarious (and yet also so nice). I can't imagine having a serious discussion back home in the US with family and/or close friends about the current state of my bathroom habits but hey, there you go.
Less than 48 hours to go...
Everyone else is in bed, and I'm about to hit the sack as well. We have a full day tomorrow (Monday) capped off by our reception, and then we'll pack and hit the road on Tuesday afternoon.
With that in mind, the Pittses are seeking requests from our blog audience. Anything we haven't written about that you're dying to know? We'll do our best to squeeze in what we can between here and the Dubai airport (gotta love that free wireless!).
With that in mind, the Pittses are seeking requests from our blog audience. Anything we haven't written about that you're dying to know? We'll do our best to squeeze in what we can between here and the Dubai airport (gotta love that free wireless!).
A bit of a wedding backlog
When we first arrived in Karachi, everyone (ourselves included) was pumped to tackle two weeks of weddings. We quickly learned that the excitement starts to peter out after a few days of back-to-back events. It's common here to invite a very extended group to such functions -- including in-laws, near and far family friends, colleagues, etc. -- so lots of folks have multiple stops on the docket in a given night. In fact, Cousins Saira and Farrah were relating stories about their own weddings, which I attended as a young'un, and one of them had 250 unforseen guests show up at the last minute (=1,000 guests, total)! I take back everything I said about Nick and I having a big 'do last summer...160 is peanuts.
Anyway, it's hard to keep your enthusiasm up when you've got so many late-night events to attend, and as a result I missed out on Cousin Samia's shaadi (I think this is the word), or reception. (To be fair, I bowed out for a few reasons, one of which was an upset tummy. I'll leave it at that.) As in a Hindu wedding, one of the main events of the reception was the theft of the groom's shoes by the bride's relatives. The groom then has to negotiate a price to pay for retrieval of his footwear, ostensibly to reward the bride's family for the work they put into their event.
So OK, I missed the shaadi. But one thing I was very much present for, along with Cousin Alishba's family, was the exchange of gifts between the bride's side and groom's side. (Please don't accuse me of being a blog-slacker, but the name of this particular tradition is escaping me at the moment.) On the first night, we [bride's relatives, including my hubs] took baskets of gifts for relatives of the groom over to the family home. These ranged from Coach products to the outfit the groom would wear on the day of the nikkah. After delivering the gifts, we stayed and visited with Abbas' relatives, giving everyone the opportunity to get to know each other.
On the second night, the groom's family reciprocated by stopping by for chai, snacks, and to drop off (among other things) Alishba's nikkah outfit. (Attention married American ladies: can you imagine trusting the selection of your wedding gown to someone else? Eeek!)
The gifts arrived wrapped in brightly-colored tissue paper:
We unpacked everything once Abbas' family departed. Here are Alishba's nikkah clothes and jewels -- oh, the jewels:
I particularly like this tradition (even though I can't remember what it's called) because among other things it gives the families a chance to get to know each other better. Family is just HUGE here, and this only reinforces that notion.
And, drawing a parallel for a moment, my in-laws are best friends with my sister-in-law's parents. Although I don't think formal exchanges like these were involved before Leigh and Greg's wedding, it all goes back to the same point.
Anyway, it's hard to keep your enthusiasm up when you've got so many late-night events to attend, and as a result I missed out on Cousin Samia's shaadi (I think this is the word), or reception. (To be fair, I bowed out for a few reasons, one of which was an upset tummy. I'll leave it at that.) As in a Hindu wedding, one of the main events of the reception was the theft of the groom's shoes by the bride's relatives. The groom then has to negotiate a price to pay for retrieval of his footwear, ostensibly to reward the bride's family for the work they put into their event.
So OK, I missed the shaadi. But one thing I was very much present for, along with Cousin Alishba's family, was the exchange of gifts between the bride's side and groom's side. (Please don't accuse me of being a blog-slacker, but the name of this particular tradition is escaping me at the moment.) On the first night, we [bride's relatives, including my hubs] took baskets of gifts for relatives of the groom over to the family home. These ranged from Coach products to the outfit the groom would wear on the day of the nikkah. After delivering the gifts, we stayed and visited with Abbas' relatives, giving everyone the opportunity to get to know each other.
On the second night, the groom's family reciprocated by stopping by for chai, snacks, and to drop off (among other things) Alishba's nikkah outfit. (Attention married American ladies: can you imagine trusting the selection of your wedding gown to someone else? Eeek!)
The gifts arrived wrapped in brightly-colored tissue paper:
We unpacked everything once Abbas' family departed. Here are Alishba's nikkah clothes and jewels -- oh, the jewels:
I particularly like this tradition (even though I can't remember what it's called) because among other things it gives the families a chance to get to know each other better. Family is just HUGE here, and this only reinforces that notion.
And, drawing a parallel for a moment, my in-laws are best friends with my sister-in-law's parents. Although I don't think formal exchanges like these were involved before Leigh and Greg's wedding, it all goes back to the same point.
To market, to market
We've been looking forward to today's activity since our arrival. Last Sunday, we were consumed by a slew of wedding-related events but we cleared our calendar this afternoon (remember, no one leaves the house before noon here) for the one and only Sunday Bazaar! This is a weekly event, and there are actually three such markets in the city. It's a haggler's paradise, featuring every product you could possibly imagine -- from groceries to clothes to pets -- and we set out today with great anticipation and plenty of rupees in our pockets.
As you can see from the photo, even the parking lot was packed, with cars parked lengthwise between the regular rows of vehicles.
Our crew was lucky enough to be accompanied by Rafia Phoophoo ("Aunty Rafia"), my dad's second cousin [who's actually more like a first cousin or sister]. Many of you may remember her from our wedding last summer. Sidebar: she's incredibly well-traveled, splitting her time between California (primary residence), China (secondary residence/site of her husband's business) and Pakistan (where most of her family lives). Rafia's presence was critical, since neither my sister, Nick nor I know enough Urdu to bring our best bargaining A-game. Not to mention, Rafia Phoophoo has nerves of STEEL, which was critical to the haggling process.
At its core, Sunday Bazaar is a seething mass of humanity, all in search of The Elusive Bargain. We spent about two hours and about US$95 there, and came away with loads of goodies. I can't spill exactly what was in our shopping bags (presents anyone?), but it was well worth it and we left happy and exhausted. This stuff is hard work!
As you can see from the photo, even the parking lot was packed, with cars parked lengthwise between the regular rows of vehicles.
Our crew was lucky enough to be accompanied by Rafia Phoophoo ("Aunty Rafia"), my dad's second cousin [who's actually more like a first cousin or sister]. Many of you may remember her from our wedding last summer. Sidebar: she's incredibly well-traveled, splitting her time between California (primary residence), China (secondary residence/site of her husband's business) and Pakistan (where most of her family lives). Rafia's presence was critical, since neither my sister, Nick nor I know enough Urdu to bring our best bargaining A-game. Not to mention, Rafia Phoophoo has nerves of STEEL, which was critical to the haggling process.
At its core, Sunday Bazaar is a seething mass of humanity, all in search of The Elusive Bargain. We spent about two hours and about US$95 there, and came away with loads of goodies. I can't spill exactly what was in our shopping bags (presents anyone?), but it was well worth it and we left happy and exhausted. This stuff is hard work!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Knock wood
Today was the 1-year anniversary of the death of Benazir Bhutto, a revered political figure in Pakistan and also the country's first and only (to date) female leader. She was assassinated at this time last year, immediately prior to a national general election. Her husband, Asif Zadari, rode the aftermath of her death into office and is now the President of Pakistan.
There was much discussion over the past few weeks about what today would be like, and although everyone always hopes for peace we all know what can happen. I'm pleased to report that, as of 8:00 p.m., all's quiet in the city. It was a federal/bank holiday and most shops were closed, although restaurants and a few other places remained open.
But if it's not one thing, it's another -- if you read the paper, you likely saw this. The belief here is that these events are happening for one of two reasons: (a) because it needs to -- i.e. there are legitimate intelligence concerns precipitating the troop move, or (b) because Pakistan may be trying to show the West what happens when its soldiers aren't guarding the Afghan border (open floodgates!). I think it's safe to say that Nick and I both feel at ease here, and that things in Karachi are normal for now.
I bring these things up not to scare anyone, but to try and demonstrate the strange paradox of life in Pakistan. Everyone has to proceed as usual, because otherwise 150 hardcore terrorists hold a nation of 165 million people in the palms of their hands. At the same time, one's usual day can be interrupted at any time with some sort of crazy news. Being here, it's easy to see that I take my normal American life for granted.
And, to give you an idea of population, here are a few quick Google stats:
*Population of Karachi: estimated to be between 17-19 million.
*Population of New York City, America's largest: 8.3 million (excluding the wider metro area).
*Population of Pakistan: approximately 165 million.
*Population of the state of Texas (comparable in size to the nation of Pakistan): 23.5 million
*Population of the US: approximately 301 million.
Not surprising that things get stirred up quickly here, eh? Lots of people in close quarters can make for some interesting surprises.
There was much discussion over the past few weeks about what today would be like, and although everyone always hopes for peace we all know what can happen. I'm pleased to report that, as of 8:00 p.m., all's quiet in the city. It was a federal/bank holiday and most shops were closed, although restaurants and a few other places remained open.
But if it's not one thing, it's another -- if you read the paper, you likely saw this. The belief here is that these events are happening for one of two reasons: (a) because it needs to -- i.e. there are legitimate intelligence concerns precipitating the troop move, or (b) because Pakistan may be trying to show the West what happens when its soldiers aren't guarding the Afghan border (open floodgates!). I think it's safe to say that Nick and I both feel at ease here, and that things in Karachi are normal for now.
I bring these things up not to scare anyone, but to try and demonstrate the strange paradox of life in Pakistan. Everyone has to proceed as usual, because otherwise 150 hardcore terrorists hold a nation of 165 million people in the palms of their hands. At the same time, one's usual day can be interrupted at any time with some sort of crazy news. Being here, it's easy to see that I take my normal American life for granted.
And, to give you an idea of population, here are a few quick Google stats:
*Population of Karachi: estimated to be between 17-19 million.
*Population of New York City, America's largest: 8.3 million (excluding the wider metro area).
*Population of Pakistan: approximately 165 million.
*Population of the state of Texas (comparable in size to the nation of Pakistan): 23.5 million
*Population of the US: approximately 301 million.
Not surprising that things get stirred up quickly here, eh? Lots of people in close quarters can make for some interesting surprises.
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