Perception vs reality: Pakistan trip part 1

So I just returned from a fabulous, three-week trip to Pakistan. Considering the latest political developments, I realise that it is a rare sentence these days that includes "fabulous" and "pakistan" in the same breath.

Staying with relatives in the suburbs I was oblivious to the many suicide bombings, depositions of provincial governments and exchanges of gunfire that took place during the short time I was there -- and that was just what was happening in Sind and Punjab, I haven't bothered to mention the mayhem ensuing in the north and west of the country. I was even in Punjab during the lawyer's Long March from Karachi to Islamabad. While chaos engulfed the streets of Lahore, my cousins and I drove along Canal Road in Faisalabad, digesting our samosa's with a cool almond kulfi....

I don't know what I remembered of Pakistan before I went to visit but my latest trip was calm and fun and could not have been further from the scenes of shooting and chaos I had watched on CNN and Al Jazeera before I left. Life on the ground, for people just trying to do their shopping and going to work was business as usual. The feeling of "we're all in this together" was alive and well. The forces currently playing themselves out in the country were largely felt to be external.

People there see Pakistan as a pawn in someone else's game. They are living their lives the best they can until it passes -- after the dust settles, they all know that they'll have to live with each other.

The day before my return home, my cousin and I were crossing town to fulfill my husband's most heartfelt request: Sugar free Rabri from Dilpasand (it's basically a really fatty, artery-clogging rich cream dessert). The sun was blazing, the temperature in Karachi was in the mid 30s (celsius) and our car radiator ran out of water. We stopped at the side of the road and within minutes, three rickshaw drivers, a taxi driver and numerous by-standers pulled over to help us out (we looked quite pitiful: water was sputtering out of our hood at least 2-3 meters into the air as we gingerly tried to fill the over-heated radiator with our stash of cold mineral water.)

"Baji (sister) please step back! Let us take care of this, please stand in the shade, don't let your clothes get dirty. Don't worry, we'll fix it for you." And my favorite: "Don't take tension." Their efforts to help us were effusive and genuine and they worked together to get our car running again and waited for us to re-start the engine.

I waited for the rub -- just how much was this going to cost? I slipped my hand into my purse and whispered to my cousin, "How much should we give them?" She shushed me and shoved my bag away quickly, "Put that away! If you suggest giving money, they'll be VERY offended!"

They waited for us to get into the car and drive away, saying nothing to my blubbering thanks. After we'd driven off, my cousin turned to me and said that no matter what else is happening in Pakistan, it is common practice to help one another. We're all in this together.

Look, I'm not so naive that I am blind to the very many things that are completely dysfunctional in the place. It was just a surprise - a pleasant surprise - to see that this one thing that had been drilled into me throughout my life was alive in well in the country my parents left behind. While Pakistan is immersed in instability and poverty, it gives me hope that there are still some core values that endure and have withstood the pressures of those challenges.

Is it love or capitalism?

Valentine's Day in Cairo is celebrated much like all festivities in this crazy city: with gusto. Whole hog (halal hog, of course). Over the top. All the way.

Last year, we were at Al Azhar park (I cannot remember why...) and we were literally the ONLY couple not carrying a large gift bag with fancy writing saying some variation of: "I love you" "Be my sweetheart" "Love is Everything".

All the girls were dressed in red with matching hijabs as far as the eye could see. All the boys were looking gooey-eyed and adoringly at the objects of their affection. Some couples were holding hands and others walked two together, with a mindful sister/ brother/ unofficial (and ineffective) chaperon two steps behind. Boys were carrying multiple gift bags (obviously presented to their beloved only moments before) overflowing with gifts, red flowers and cheezy balloons that rustled and swished as they walked by.

A year later and here we are again on the day of lurv. Has the economic downturn put a damper on the festivities? Have people decided maybe they should take it easy this year and save their piasters for something more practical than heart and "XO" decals for their cars? Not a chance.

This afternoon I noticed a tree on Qasr-al-Aini (a super busy, 5+ lane road into central Cairo) wrapped in red polyester with hearts dangling from every available branch. The shopkeeper looked at me hopefully from inside his store when I stopped to admire his handiwork. I'm still not sure what he was selling but the tree in the red toga - while certainly eye-catching - did not inspire me to go in and empty my wallet.

Back in Maadi, Road 9 (the closest thing we have to a main drag) was mayhem. Traffic was backed up, people were honking their horns and crossing the road haphazardly, creating even more gridlock. And they all had this in common: red outfits, toting shiny red and gold gift bags with badly composed love-messages scrolled on them, holding ridiculously large stuffed animals and fistfuls of heart shaped balloons decorated with red ribbons.

All the restaurants were filled to overflowing and there was a definite (if absurd) buzz in the air. The shop across the road had an impressive 5 ft tall stuffed gorilla in red underpants on display.

I have to wonder what accounts for the zealous embrace of this particular holiday. Is it that Egyptians are innately passionate and have a lot of love to give? No doubt.

Or is it just globalization? A holiday invented by Hallmark to nudge the economy along through the post-Christmas lull.

Oh dear, that's not very romantic of me now is it? I need to make more of an effort to fit into the culture of my new home: Happy Valentines Wishes to one and all!

Now please excuse me while I rush off to see if that Gorilla in the window is still up for sale...

In the thick of it

Every time I go downtown, I realize what a crazy place this is.

Yesterday I had a lunch downtown at Taboula (deeelicious lebanese food. My fave is their luscious kibbeh nayar) in Garden City. By the time lunch wrapped up, it was about 3.00 (what can I say, I seem to lunch the same way no matter where I live..."rush? who's in a rush, lets have a coffee and stay a while") and the start of afternoon traffic hell. I walked to Tahrir Square and considered getting into a yellow cab. Black cabs are open, smell of gas -- both human and petrol related - and you can chew the air from the open windows as you sail along while your driver chain smokes. Yellow cabs are hermetically sealed and have lovely, non-smoking, air conditioning -- unless you get the driver we had the other day: "It is winter now. No air conditioning". They are also hard to get, notoriously unreliable and cost more. But malesh, at least you can breathe.

But then I got distracted by the ever looming Mogamma. There is always something going on in front of that huge wall of a building.

Here's a little sample of what was happening yesterday: amid the usual smattering of lovers sitting closely together on benches, tea sellers minding their bubbling pots and little boys playing football or jumping on the hoses left out to water the lawns, a blond woman, handcuffed to a really young Egyptian man was unceremoniously escorted by two Policemen across the square to a shady tree just under the Mogamma.

Had I been in Canada or Europe, I would have thought: "Don't stare, it's rude." But this is Egypt where staring is considered a fundamental human right.

I unabashedly stood and watched the scene. Lots of smoking, fist waving (the handcuffed detainees) and calm down gestures (the policemen). I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on but the blond woman looked like she'd been drinking and the Egyptian kid looked like he wanted his Mom. I tried to get closer but the policemen gave me a look that told me it would be better if I just walked away. So I did. I'm Canadian, after all. It doesn't take much to get me to mind my own business.

Directly in front of the main entrance to the Mogamma, an informal market had sprouted on the cool marble promenade. So I went and checked it out. Sunglasses 7.50 LE, watches 10 LE, an entire table with everything for 2.5 LE. Scarves, tops, cellphones, kitchen utensils -- you name it, they had it and it was all under 10 LE (about $2.00) And before you ask: OF COURSE I bought something. It would have been fairly retarded not to.

After I had my fill of the market and emptied my pockets of all remaining small bills, I looked at the gridlock, thought better of getting a taxi and made my way to the Metro.

I love the Metro. Riding it makes me feel part of the city. It allows me to observe life and the people with whom I share the city. And it's probably the most efficient, reliable, enviro-friendly (if that matters to you) way to get around Cairo.

This time, I was asked directions and - eureka - was able to give them. In Arabic, thank you very much. (God only knows what train the poor woman is on now...but I meant well.) The machine ate my ticket. Immediately, a uniformed Metro guy appeared and opened the machine to give me a look at the inner workings of the turnstiles before returning my ticket and shooing me into the stream of commuters heading to the platform. I pushed my way on to the women's car (much less crowded and infinitely better smelling) where little boys and women sporting new born babies hawked everything from safety pins to dress socks to dates stuffed with almonds. After about 20 hot but breezy minutes, I was back in Maadi. No chain smoking, no lead inhalation, no traffic-related near death experiences.

Of course, I must admit there's a charm in that type of journey as well. But I'll leave that for another post.

Choosing to embrace the hype

One of my oldest friends and her boyfriend are currently visiting. They are New Yorkers and thrilled (and relieved) beyond words with the results of the recent election.

We've been playing tour guide and taking them to all the must-see spots in our beloved new home town. While taking photos at Coptic Cairo the other day, as usual, passersby who hear our guests' accents want to know:

"America?"

An enthusiastic Robert: "Yes! America!"

Little kid gives him a thumbs up: "Obama!"

And then Robert nearly does a jig for happiness and I think he's going to hug the kid. But instead, he gives a thumbs up: "Obama." He sighs a contented sigh. And gives the kid an even bigger smile. And then he proceeds to buy a handful of the papyrus book marks the kid was hawking for one crisp greenback.

My friend Stephanie just shakes her head and laughs: "You don't understand. This is the first time in years that we have traveled abroad and are proud to tell people we're American."

Since then, Robert has been greeting anyone who makes eye contact (and for those who know Cairo - that is no small number of people) with a peppy: "O-Bama" He's even developed hand gestures/ makeshift sign language to go with it. In case they don't get what he is trying to communicate. Normally, I would worry about my hulking 6 foot something American guest getting into peoples' faces but 9 times out of 10, he's met with an enthusiastic smile in return and a "yes yes, Obama -- Mabrook" (congratulations).

Seems the whole world has Obama fever. We even stayed up all night watching the coverage while the Canadian election came and went without us giving it a second glance. And I will admit that I could feel a little lump rising in my throat with every "Yes we can" in Obama's victory address.

But I also wrote political speeches by the dozen in my last job, so I am not drinking the whole jug of kool-aid...

There is, however, something catchy about the shift in mood, the optimism and the hope. And in honour of that, I am choosing to silence my inner cynic -- the one that questions how much a new American president is really going to change the state of the world -- and getting on board.

So to our American neighbours, I say: Mabrook! May your new president live up to the hype.

Disappointed but not surprised

8 Egyptian bloggers were chosen by the AUC's Kamal Adham Center for Journalism Training & Research to take part in a program to go to America and blog their impressions of the US Elections. They went on two trips -- one in September to intern at the National Press Foundation, learn about the American Electoral system, spend a week with some of the top media sites in the country (The Washington Post, Time.com, the Huffington Post) and then be guests of some of the best journalism schools in the country.

The project was supposed to be an exercise in building bridges and fostering inter-cultural understanding and dialogue. Some of the bloggers had been educated in the American system and have had a keen interest in American society and politics. They were all excited to be going to the States to be part of one of the most exciting elections of our lives.

This week, they went back to the States for part 2 of the project: to be there on election day and blog from their host journalism schools. Two were detained and treated quite badly at the US border and others were selected for "further screening" on each connecting flight. All this despite the fact that their visas were issued by the State Department, despite the fact that they were sponsored by USAID and sent by the AMERICAN university in Cairo and had all the paperwork to prove it.

Can you say: The left hand doesn't know who the right hand is screwing over? While one part of the American government is spending a good chunk of change to try and build bridges with the rest of the world by showing them how great their democracy is, the other part of the American government is showing visitors that their detention centers are just as bad as the ones they left behind in their home countries.

The project has yielded so much thought-provoking debate and insight. Their hosts and regular Americans have been wonderful ambassadors for their country and the process. I'm disappointed that the first people most visitors meet when entering the States can undo it all in one fell swoop.

Read the translation of one of the bloggers' experience: Detained

What?

We have discovered a really great Korean restaurant on the road just behind our place.

It's the kind of spot you know you can go for a good meal after a hard day at work when you don't want to cook. Or when you fancy something delicious and reliable and don't want to think too hard about where to go. It is close and it is cheap and we go there a lot. The beef bulgogi is to die for and I highly recommend the glass noodles with chicken. My husband is rather addicted to their seafood pancake. Mmmm mmm.

So when you find a place like this, you want to hold on to it, right? Don't want to mess it up. Avoid rocking the boat and just appreciate your good fortune. Maybe it's the Canadian in me, but when I have a good thing going I like to keep my head down and enjoy it.

Is that so wrong?

My husband, of course, doesn't always share my philosophy.

The other night, he wanted to know what the big deal would be if he wore this t-shirt to our beloved Korean restaurant:

I ask: Why can't we just enjoy the bibimbap and kimchee?

Political fundraising - Hezbollah style

We just returned from a wonderful 4-day trip to Lebanon. Loved it. Stay tuned for photos and more detailed posts. In the meantime, I thought I would write about something I did NOT get a photo of.

We decided to take a day trip and head north east to see the roman ruins at Baalbek. The drive took us up the winding roads to the mountains, across the spectacular range, over bridges being rebuilt after Israeli air strikes during the 2006 war to the other side and down into the Bakaa Valley.

That's when we entered Hezbollah territory. How did we know? The road was decorated with party flags and photos of dead Hezbollah fighters. Young men's faces were framed with slogans like: "You are the men of God" "You are the victory of Islam". Walls painted with Nasrallah's smiling face stood side by side with huge billboards of Khamenei and the late Ayatolla Khomeini. Most notable shop name: "Supermarket of the Oppressed".

We slowed to go through a checkpoint. Once we cleared it, we saw that two men were flagging down cars and throwing glossy, colourful Hezbollah pamphlets into open windows. We grabbed one, thinking what a great souvenir. Doh. We did exactly what they had hoped we would. The men came to our driver's window, demanding money. Our driver gave the pamphlet back, saying they (us) don't want it.

"Give us 5000 LL." (less than $4)

"They are only tourists. They don't want it."

"What about you?" he took back the pamphlet and looked at the money in our driver's hand, "then give us 2000 LL."

"I am just a driver, I don't have any money..."

"Pull over." They pointed like air traffic controllers, trying to guide our car to the side of the road. Our driver just waved at them and kept going.

Suffice to say, no political contributions were made that day.

This little fund raising attempt was the closest we got to anything remotely political during our trip. The rest of the time was spent drinking wonderful coffee, eating delicious sea food and taking in spectacular views. Blissfully unaware of the hardships facing the locals or having the slightest inkling re: the political situation. Lebanon felt more like an upscale European resort than a country recovering from -- and some argue still teetering on the edge of -- civil war.

Elections happen next year. Lets see where this roadside fund raising gets the party of God and it's competitors.