Gulbadan

So, anyway, allow me to present an account of my time in this city so far:

The train was on time. Yep, fucking amazing. I am now in love with Karakoram Express. Karachi Express Night Coach can kiss my naala good-bye!

I made aloo bhujia on my first night. Unfortunately due to a slight miscalculation in the quantity of ingredients it turned out to be a bit more spicy and discolored than I hoped for (picture shows the horrid color), but was an overall worthy accomplishment all things said and done. My first hurdle in the way of becoming a master chef in the next one year has been crossed. Baby steps, I say.

The breeze simply doesn't stop! It's the coolest darned thing ever! Everywhere you go, you feel like there's a big pedestal fan following you! Utilizing this to my advantage, I have been sleeping on the roof of my apartment building ever since I arrived. Yep, charpai and all. You see, even though the breeze is cool and all, there is still the bloody humidity to contend with, which turns you into a cucumber in ten minutes. Add to that the fact that we sadly have not been blessed with airconditioning in our apartment (on a 10k salary, you can hardly afford such luxuries), and sleeping inside becomes difficult for a spoilt brat like me used to water coolers and Russian ACs and the like.

Water. It runs out. Often. We have 2 backup tanks, but still. My boss theorizes that the Gunsmoke people below are stealing t. What with their cowboy hats and mean playacting, they might just be crooked enough to do that. Bastards. In conclusion, most of the time there's no water. So the dishes lie unwashed, shit remains unflushed, and roomies continue to stink. I have discovered the magic of using buckets all over again. In your face, stupid running water!

The beach. So the other day an old friend invited us over for BBQ at a fancy beach hut far far away. In getting there I saw some interesting areas (read: low income neighborhoods that are a far-cry from the uptight snotty luxuries of Zamzama). The fun, though, only started when we got there. We indulged in the usual hanky panky that kids indulge in at such times, and a miserably failed attack on Emad and a small confrontation with Klepo later, I had tasted salt water and sand twice, was completely inundated, had almost been washed away by the powerful high-tide waves (random fat guy saved me - I don't know swimming :p), was covered head-to-toe in sand, and realized only later that I had forgotten to empty my pockets. The results were obviously not pretty: daddy's business cards, currency and my ATM shit in the wallet got damaged slightlycell phone got permanently screwed, and sand had reached every single angle and crevice of my pristine body (there was even sand on my testicles somehow!). Considering the above-mentioned events, I henceforth hate the beach.

Finally, I.I.Chundrigar Road was a massive disappointment. Fucked up, dirty, dug-up, messy, down-market, congested, you name it. Such high expectations, so badly let down. How can a self-respecting corporate whore work there is beyond me. Leaving that and heading to Pakistan Chowk (for some work-related stuff), I observed a view that was quite ironic: in the foreground, an expansive, congested street with overflowing sewage water; downtrodden and closely-built residential buildings; random MQM monuments, flags and markings along the whole route; rude and impatient shopkeepers; while the tall and handsome MCB Tower rising magnificently in the backdrop. Quite the contrast between the rich and gleaming and the poor and stinking. I wanted to whip out some cell-phone camera shit and take some pictures, but have been advised not to show such cool gadgetry in public :p

Plus I miss my mommy. But don't let her know :)