Greetings, intrepid family members! I realize that there is a great probability that I am the only one reading this blog. Which is fine by me, since, if nothing else, it'll give me a chance to make some notes of my time here in Pakistan, and to keep a running tab on events. That is, assuming I manage to write something from time to time.
On Thursday, I met up with a friend who's American, but has lived in Islamabad for about 3 years. She had been raving about this great Japanese place close to my work, so we agreed to go there for lunch. Well, naturally I was a bit reluctant, especially when she claimed that the sashimi was "the best she's ever had." Hmm. But I was finally convinced to go by the fact that the place -- "Kanpai!" -- had an honest to God Japanese owner. Big mistake.
So, to make a long story short, I had a nice tempura bento box (this sounded much safer than anything else on the menu), and went back to work. By nighttime, I was feeling a little queasy; by morning, I was definitely under the weather. A half day of misery in the office, and I was back home, trying to recuperate and flush my system with gallons and gallons of water.
Anyway, the next day, I was scheduled to go on a hike with friends out to someplace called "Khanpur reservoir." By the time this morning rolled around, I was so thoroughly sick of sitting in my little guest house room that I popped a couple of immodium, and grabbed a car to meet my friends at the trailhead.
Here's a picture of my taxi to the trailhead (j/k, it's actually a "jingle truck" - ancient English-made Bedford trucks that have been "Pakistani-ized." They're ubiquitous here.)
In any event, the hike proved to be more than just the casual walk I'd been led to believe it was.
The trail was rocky, narrow at points, and exposed to the brutal midday sun (I'd conveniently forgotten my sunglasses at home). This was not all that fun, I thought.
Nevertheless, the hike became more charming as time wore on: we passed through little farming villages, with wheat fields and run-down mosques. We watched, as we gained altitude, as leafy trees were replaced by shrubs which, in turn, yielded to beautiful pine trees. And, most importantly, my stomach started to calm down. :-)
Here are a few shots of the hike:
Anyway, at a certain point my water ran out, and my stomach started to act up again. Damn you, Islamabad Japanese restaurant! Mercifully, Zulfikar, the organizer of the hike (and our host) had seemingly thought of everything, and just at that moment, as the trail rounded a bend into something resembling a road, two Land Cruisers were waiting for us - Zulfikar's guys, waiting to drive us the rest of the way to his "humble summer house." Gotta love the South Asian hospitality! Shortly thereafter, we arrived at Zulfi's place. I'll let you be the judge of just how "humble" the place was:
What was not in doubt was how we were met: cold drinks were already lined up, and food was on the grill. yum!!
Suffice it to say, Zulfikar's "humble dacha," was absolutely amazing...replete with unspoiled views of and access to the lake (unspoiled, because he'd bought all the surrounding land, in order to make sure no one else built any Pakistan-elite-style McMansions on them), a groomed lawn that resembled more a golfing green, and a nice, fresh water swimming pool that required no chlorine. Good times were had by all; have a look for yourself:
Here's a picture of one of our fellow hiker, Fazel. He's got the right idea!
The view from the dacha.
On the way back, we passed a village orthodontist. He was waving for us to stop and come in - I guess he felt I need braces? - so we stopped. While I declined the offer of achieving a perfect smile, I loved the sign outside his shop, so took a photo:
OK, this post is too long already, but I can't let it go without giving a shout out to my hometown of San Diego:
On Thursday, I met up with a friend who's American, but has lived in Islamabad for about 3 years. She had been raving about this great Japanese place close to my work, so we agreed to go there for lunch. Well, naturally I was a bit reluctant, especially when she claimed that the sashimi was "the best she's ever had." Hmm. But I was finally convinced to go by the fact that the place -- "Kanpai!" -- had an honest to God Japanese owner. Big mistake.
So, to make a long story short, I had a nice tempura bento box (this sounded much safer than anything else on the menu), and went back to work. By nighttime, I was feeling a little queasy; by morning, I was definitely under the weather. A half day of misery in the office, and I was back home, trying to recuperate and flush my system with gallons and gallons of water.
Anyway, the next day, I was scheduled to go on a hike with friends out to someplace called "Khanpur reservoir." By the time this morning rolled around, I was so thoroughly sick of sitting in my little guest house room that I popped a couple of immodium, and grabbed a car to meet my friends at the trailhead.
Here's a picture of my taxi to the trailhead (j/k, it's actually a "jingle truck" - ancient English-made Bedford trucks that have been "Pakistani-ized." They're ubiquitous here.)In any event, the hike proved to be more than just the casual walk I'd been led to believe it was.
The trail was rocky, narrow at points, and exposed to the brutal midday sun (I'd conveniently forgotten my sunglasses at home). This was not all that fun, I thought.Nevertheless, the hike became more charming as time wore on: we passed through little farming villages, with wheat fields and run-down mosques. We watched, as we gained altitude, as leafy trees were replaced by shrubs which, in turn, yielded to beautiful pine trees. And, most importantly, my stomach started to calm down. :-)
Here are a few shots of the hike:
Anyway, at a certain point my water ran out, and my stomach started to act up again. Damn you, Islamabad Japanese restaurant! Mercifully, Zulfikar, the organizer of the hike (and our host) had seemingly thought of everything, and just at that moment, as the trail rounded a bend into something resembling a road, two Land Cruisers were waiting for us - Zulfikar's guys, waiting to drive us the rest of the way to his "humble summer house." Gotta love the South Asian hospitality! Shortly thereafter, we arrived at Zulfi's place. I'll let you be the judge of just how "humble" the place was:
What was not in doubt was how we were met: cold drinks were already lined up, and food was on the grill. yum!!Suffice it to say, Zulfikar's "humble dacha," was absolutely amazing...replete with unspoiled views of and access to the lake (unspoiled, because he'd bought all the surrounding land, in order to make sure no one else built any Pakistan-elite-style McMansions on them), a groomed lawn that resembled more a golfing green, and a nice, fresh water swimming pool that required no chlorine. Good times were had by all; have a look for yourself:
Here's a picture of one of our fellow hiker, Fazel. He's got the right idea!
The view from the dacha.
On the way back, we passed a village orthodontist. He was waving for us to stop and come in - I guess he felt I need braces? - so we stopped. While I declined the offer of achieving a perfect smile, I loved the sign outside his shop, so took a photo:
OK, this post is too long already, but I can't let it go without giving a shout out to my hometown of San Diego:
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