Reunion in Karachi

Here on my final night in Pakistan, the electricity has yet to fail.  An auspicious event.

I just arrived back in Lahore from Karachi, where I visited my friend Salman, a wily old coot from my donning days who happens to share the name of a popular Bollywood movie star.  Apparently when I emailed Salman the first time and told him I was going to be in Pakistan (well, more specifically, I wrote "I am coming to Pakistan and I am coming to find you") he dismissed it because he thought I had been out drinking and then sending drunken messages.  But, on the other hand, it is pretty remarkable to bump into a friend on the other end of the world.  (And oh yes, Lahore is a nice place too and deserves its own post but alas, is not going to get one).

Karachi is a massive metropolos of 18 million, way down on the southern coast of the country.  It's a shorter flight from Islamabad to Kabul (Afghanistan) than it is to Karachi.  It has bigger buildings and more Pizza Huts than the rest of the country, and in an unrelated vein, an elegant mausoleum of Pakistan's founder, Muhammad Jinnah.  Complimenting the Pakistan city-touring itinerary of "see a mosque and eat an ice cream", in Karachi we made a point of stopping to dip our feet in the Arabian Sea.

Salman's family welcomed me as a son, and for a few short days it was almost like being back at home: a stocked fridge, home cooked meals with the rest of the family, playing video games with Salman and his younger brother, driving around the city to meet friends for dinner, celebrating birthdays with cake and candles.  It reminded me of what I have to look forward to when I go home.  For all the incredible memories and breathtaking sights you experience while travelling, it's being inside a happy home when you truly reflect that, yeah, life is good.

An apt segue, cause life in Karachi the city is not actually that great right now.  For the past six months there has been an outbreak of ethnic violence that has gripped national news and left thousands dead.  Stuff like kids getting mowed down by gunfire because of the language they speak.  During our phone conversation before I booked my flight, Salman, usually all jokes, took on a rare serious tone when we discussed safety.  A city as large as Karachi is always unpredictable, but in an established neighbourhood to the east of the city, their home is thankfully a world apart from the strife.  Salman was careful to keep me far away from anywhere that might present some sort of risk, and the Karachi I saw was chic and lively, highlighting the fact that I have barely anything in my traveling wardrobe that passes for chic or lively.

Ramadan continues to fascinate me, and every day I learn a bit more.  Today I joined the family for Sehar, the first meal of the day that is consumed before sunup.  The 4am wakeup is not kind, especially when a power outtage has knocked out fans and lights. Not much was said during the meal, though it was pretty iconic being lit only by candles. I am again struct by how religion manifests itself in such quiet ways.  Here is an honest, working family, like so many other families, that without complaint will spend an entire month enduring not only a strange eating schedule but also a strange sleeping schedule.  Waking at 4am, a night of uninterrupted sleep is unthinkable, and even though we all disappear back into beds after eating, I think you basically spend the entire month fatigued.  Words like patience and self-control take on new meaning.  This is all of course coming from a guy who has not had a successful day of fasting yet, and I remain a tourist on the sidelines, cheering everyone on.

I'm now filled with that eve-of-a-new-border-crossing excitement.  The shakeup that comes with new money, new language, new culture and new food is what makes travel so engrossing, and crossing on land with everything you need hanging from a battered bicycle is this sort of T.E. Lawrence-esque dream.  Tomorrow starts a new phase of the trip, a 1500km ride across the north of India and eventually up into the mountains of Nepal.  I have a map with a scale not much better than a map of the world, a fresh stock of Snickers bars, and a robust attitude that knows there are going to be a lot of things that surprise me in the coming weeks.  Goodbye Pakistan, you'll always hold a special place in my heart.  I look forward to the day when you achieve the greatness you've almost given up on, and the respect from the rest of the world that you so deserve.