Bomb Blast in Islamabad F6 Markaz

Looks like a rest day today, sort of.  We were supposed to do a NEO drill today.  Now, least you go off on a flight of fancy wondering what type of a drill might be used by the protagonist of the Matrix series, allow me to explain.  A NEO is a non-combatant evacuation order.  It is when an embassy sends everyone but key personnel home to the US.  Our office was doing this, as we do several times a year, just to be prepared.  We didn’t tell the rest of the Embassy we were running this drill so as not to alarm them.  In the past week the Pakistan Military has become very active in pursuing insurgents.  They have hit them hard in Miranshah.  So it seemed like a good time to run a NEO drill as retaliatory attacks in the major cities were expected.  So, I was expecting a click-a-tel (text) this morning around 07:00 telling us that the exercise was underway and to come to work with our go-bags (bags of essentials used when making a hasty exit).  Instead, I woke up when my alarm went off and saw a text much earlier than expected: 05:15.  The text mentioned staying in our homes because of multiple bomb blasts around the city.  I found it odd that it didn’t begin with the words EXERCISE, EXERCISE, EXERCISE.  Then I noted it was form the Embassy and not from our office.  I immediately went online to check the news and yes indeed, two bombs went off early in the morning.  One in sector G9, an area I rarely go to; the other in F6 Market, near where I was at last night.  F6 is where most of the shops I frequent are located.  The news is still sparse but from what I’ve been able to read so far it appears some dumb ass was planting a bomb at 02:00 when confronted by a security guard.  The bomb detonated killing the miscreant and injuring the guard.  At the moment we are restricted to our homes.  Travel is allowed only for essential personnel and then only in hard cars (bullet/bomb proof vehicles). 

 

It will be interesting to see how my last few weeks here play out.  I expect more incidents will occur as the TTP become increasingly desperate.  We don’t know right now if the military actions in the tribal areas are the start of a major offensive, like they executed in Swat in ’09, or simply more of the surgical strikes they have been performing.  Either way, the targeted assaults are welcome.  The Pakistani  military despise the Taliban.  Too many in this country have died at their hand.  Far more than the US has lost in Afghanistan. 

 

These are serious times for Pakistan.  These are serious times for the entire region.  I pray the US does not foolishly abandon Pakistan as we withdraw from Afghanistan. After living here for over a year I feel a sense of belonging.  I have friends here.  I know that the majority of the population does not want religion forced upon them, even as they are deeply committed to Islam.  Despite what the West may think Islam is not a violent religion.  Wahhabism may well be but to lump all Muslims in with the Wahhabis is to lump all Christians in with the Westboro Baptist Church!          

Carpet Washing and Gas Shortages

If you happen to be from the United States and have lived in pretty much any other country you can’t help but appreciate how well American’s have it.  I lived for years in Japan and used kerosene heaters for warmth in the winter in drafty houses.  I lived for years in Italy and put up with summer water rationing and poor electrical systems.  Now I live in Pakistan and put up with “load shedding” (pre-scheduled brown-outs).  Luckily we also have a backup generator.  Lately the new issue is gas pressure, or the lack thereof.   A few days ago our cook had to shut off the houses two heating systems in order to use the oven.  For the past several days only one of the heating systems has been operating since the pressure is not high enough to support both systems. 

 It doesn’t make much sense to complain about these inconveniences as they are the norm here in Pakistan.  I am one of the lucky ones.  When my time is done here I’ll travel back to California where a two hour electrical outage is national news.  I think it is a shame more of my countrymen don’t spend time in foreign lands.  Living abroad lends perspective.  Perhaps this is why new immigrants to America have always done so well.  They have perspective on just how blessed they are in America and don’t take the opportunity for granted.

 Now, I don’t quite know how to explain why I like living abroad so much.  I greatly appreciate all America has to offer, but at the same time, I appreciate how well the rest of the planet gets on with what they have to work with.  Recently I went to the workshop of one of the carpet merchants I frequent.  It was somewhere south of Lake Rawal in a small village.  The building is just a concrete slab on pillars.  Not the best work, too much aggregate and probably no re-bar at all, open to the elements with only one small room actually enclosed.  I went there to see how carpets are washed and stretched.  Wool carpets can be cleaned quite effectively by beating them.  But when they get quite old and have been used in dirty conditions they occasionally need a more in depth cleaning.  Wool shrinks when it gets wet so when carpets are cleaned they also have to be stretched back into shape.  Carpets have been used for well over 2,700 years.  I imagine the way I saw them being cleaned and stretched is as old.  The process is simple: soak the carpet and scrub it with stiff brushes and soap, rinse, repeat.  When it is clean, nail it to boards and begin stretching it by lengthening the distance between the boards with large rocks.  Keep wetting the carpet as you stretch it until it is the size desired.  Then just leave it to dry.  The impressive thing to see is just how much abuse these pieces can take.  The brushed used look like they should tear the carpet apart but no damage is done.  Watching this process and knowing these pieces can withstand high traffic areas for over 100 years really lets you appreciate the craftsmanship involved in their manufacture.  I suppose this is just one aspect of my carpet addiction.  :0               

A Sailor's Christmas In Islamabad 2013

Christmas thousands of miles from home can be a lonely affair.  In 27 years of naval service I imagine I’ve been deployed 5 or 6 years, counting schools, underway time and mobilizations.  That’s time away from immediate family.  I’ve been far from my mother, father and sister for over 15 of those 27 years.  That’s a lot of birthdays, Christmas’, anniversaries, Thanksgivings, etc. away from family.  It’s my job.  It’s the job of all of us in uniform. 

Today, Christmas 2013, I planned to do some rock climbing.  That was my gift to myself.  The Margalla Hills have been off limits to us for nearly 6 months.  Now they are open again.  I invited a group of guys from work who have an interest in climbing.  Unfortunately none of them made it.  So I figured I’d just go check out the crag I was planning to climb and perhaps scout some other areas as well.  I drove up to the trail head, grabbed my pack and set off to have a look.  As I was standing at the wall, looking at the bolted routes, checking the first few moves, wondering what to check out next, I heard voices.  I ignored them at first figuring some locals were on the main trail.  I don’t speak Pashto or Urdu so I had no idea what was being said.  As I was playing around I realized the voices were getting steadily louder.  I looked down the trail and two local guys were approaching.  Mind you the trail to the crag only leads to the crag, nowhere else.  As it turns out two Pakistani rock climbers were planning to climb at the same spot.  One of them is fluent in English so we spoke for a bit about local climbing, this climb, other small talk.  The one who is fluent is a Fulbright Scholar and mountaineer.  The other works at a local amusement park running at 60 ft high climbing wall and is a very good rock climber.  They invited me to join them, so I did.  I am not the best climber as I’ve very out of practice.  They were fantastic climbing partners.  We made several runs up different lines on the crag.  I ended up bruised with bloody fingers, as usual.  Nothing serious, just good fun.  So, what began as a bit of a disappointing day ended up being a fantastic time.  I now have local friends who climb most weekends.  I have a much better idea what at least one of the local crags has to offer.  It was a very nice Christmas for me. 

So when you have to be far away for holidays, or anniversaries, or birthdays there is no reason to mope about feeling lonely.  It simply doesn’t serve any useful purpose.  It’s much more fun to go out and do something you’ve wanted to accomplish.  For me that was rock climbing and it turned out to be a fantastic experience!  Merry Christmas!!!                

Flat Tires and Kind Strangers

17 Nov 2013      

During Ashura we were restricted to our houses and the Embassy.  This was after violence had erupted in Rawalpindi the twin city to Islamabad.  After being cooped up for a time I made it out the door at 06:30 on the bike.  I rode in to work to check e-mail… that only took a half hour or so.  Then I rode across town to F9 park.  It is a huge park, it takes up an entire sector here in the city.  Since we are not allowed to ride in the Margalla hills at the moment this is my substitute.  Lame but it’s about all I have.  So I was having a nice ride.  I was in the heart of the park on a dirt path riding downhill on a rocky and heavily rutted section when I had a blow out.  OK, no big deal, but it is a pain in the ass.  I had a spare tube, but no patch kit.  I changed the tube and wouldn’t you know it, within a half mile I had another flat.  Damn!  Oh, it’s important to know that we are only supposed to go into F9 park if we call into the operations center at work first.  I had attempted to but cell phone service was out all over town.  So I figured oh well, I’ll just walk back to the limits of where I am supposed to be, 9^th Avenue, and then use my radio to call for motor pool to come pick me up.  We are not allowed to use public transport here, but the embassy’s motor pool works pretty well.  So along I am walking when a local Punjabi rides up on his bike.  I explain in English what has happened, he tells me in Punjabi where I can get my flat repaired.  Now mind you I don’t speak Punjabi… and he doesn’t speak English.  This gentleman stayed with me and took me by 4 places that were all closed before finding one that was open.  Not that a shop was open.  It was just a guy on the side of the road who has a shop elsewhere but was fixing bike tires on this particular dirt corner.  So the guy repairs my tire for 30 rupees (30 cents).  I gave him 100.  Still my Punjabi friend waited.  Once all was well we rode toward my residence.  My friend split off at the adjacent city sector.  We had covered about 3 miles on foot (me) and bike (him).  All I could think through all of this was WOW.  Here is some local guy, in the country’s capitol, who took it upon himself to be my guardian.  He was such a wonderfully nice guy.   In the US I can’t imagine a “Christian” doing this for a foreigner.  Here I am in a land that most American’s think is populated with Islamic extremists and some random Muslim takes care of me.  I was very happy.  I like these people.  I am likely to become very angry the next time I hear someone tell me how violent a religion Islam is. 

 

BTW, my friend kept telling me how bike riding was such great exercise (in Punjabi).  I agreed (in English).  At one point as we moved through a neighborhood, looking for a repair shop, two men better off than my friend, Pashtuns I think, asked what was wrong.  I pointed to my very flat rear tire and told them it had blown out twice today.  They said something and I smiled back as we moved along.  Then it came to me.  In his heavy accent the gentleman had said: Ah, you have put on weight lately.  Too funny!  When my tube was being patched the mechanic asked my age (he spoke a wee little bit of English).  I told him 52 and both he and my friend were impressed.  I think I just reinforced their view of cycling being great exercise. 

 

If I am going to continue riding I need to order some decent tubes.  These Chinese once are crap.  That said I am very happy I had 2 blowouts today.  I would not have had such a wonderful experience.

Drone Strikes and Bike Rides

The government of Pakistan was set to begin an official dialog with the Taliban.  This would not be the first time this has been attempted.  Several times in the past the Taliban have agreed to a cease fire only to use the time to regroup and rearm before breaking the peace.  The big difference is that this time, 18 hours before the first official contact was scheduled to take place, a US Drone strike killed the head of the Pakistani Taliban along with his 2^nd in command.  Now I am not personally a fan of drone strikes.  I feel we have used them without sufficient controls in the past.  This time though we seem to have used them correctly.  This guy was a complete turd.  He was a vicious prick and had done innumerable harm to the Pakistani people.  Now there have been many drone strikes since I arrived in Islamabad 7 months ago, so why choose to bring this one up?  Because Meshud was the target, there is the likelihood his minions will attempt to strike a retaliatory blow.  Or to put it another way, because the US killed their leader, the TTP may decide to try and kill some Americans.  So, this weekend has been a slow one.  We have been restricted to our walled and guarded houses today.  No travel unless absolutely necessary and then only in armored vehicles.  This is my life in Islamabad. 

 

We found out about the strike Saturday morning.  We were told to be back at our houses by sunset and not to leave.  I was planning to go for a bike ride today (Sunday) so I decided to ride my bike home.  It isn’t very far, only a few miles.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to ride today but at least I’d have a nice ride home.  I love riding bikes here in Pakistan.  It is safer to ride here then the states.  As crazy as it is to drive here, they do pay more attention to pedestrians, bikes, cows, goats, monkeys… well, you get the picture.  In Malibu cars run into parked cars on the PCH.  I’ve never seen that here.  The other thing I love about riding a bike here is the reaction I get from the Pakistanis.  If I so much as say hello and smile they give me the most amazing smiles in return.  They are such a gracious people.  They make me feel so welcome here.  I suppose that seems odd to many Americans.  Most people I know back in the US think I live in a bed of terrorists.  The reality is quite different.  I won’t lie, things do happen here, occasionally very bad things.  A few months ago Taliban suicide bombers murdered 80+ Christians as they left mass in Peshawar.  One of our house staff lost 8 member of her immediate family in that terrorist attack.  You would think she’d be bitter in this Muslim land.  She went on to tell how the Islamic community of Peshawar did their best to protect the Christians following this attack.  They provided security, they provided food and shelter, they were aghast that such a cowardly act had taken place in their city.  Pakistan is a complicated place with complex problems that defy sound bite answers. 

 

 

So, for those of you that still worry about my safety, please don’t.  I am in a place where people have a very difficult life, and despite that, do not hate strangers, or one another.  It is the poverty here in Pakistan that is the enemy.  It is the lack of education.  It is the corruption.  The people of Pakistan are not the enemy.  So, a small request: next time you hear someone going on about “all those damn terrorists in Pakistan” set them straight.  People are not that different anywhere in the world.  There is no country anywhere on the planet made up primarily of terrorists.  So if someone is trying to convince you otherwise they are either ignorant or have their own hateful agenda.  I don’t know what the future brings for Pakistan but I do know I will have lifelong friends here.   

Rest and Relaxation??

My R&R is about shot.  One day left and another run to the storage place in Carson.  It’s been two weeks of sorting and packing.  Some items bound for eventual life on the big island of Hawaii, some items for life in SoCal until I can fund life on the island.  It’s been a strange experience.  I seemingly dropped out of the sky onto the Bu.  Coming from six months in Pakistan I may as well be on Mars.  Life here is that different.  American’s view of Pakistan is rather skewed.  Many of my friends don’t know there is any difference between Afghanistan and Pakistan.  Most of the remainder thinks Pakistan is a bed of bloodthirsty terrorists with nukes.  This is what happens when news becomes a profit center rather than a public service.  No more “foreign desks” at news outlets.  If it isn’t sensational it won’t sell ad space.  It’s sad really.

 

So here I am.  In three weeks my wife moves to Hawaii.  In six months I return to SoCal effectively homeless.  I have to work at my normal employer to pay off the home on the island.  It’s a weird feeling.  I know it likely confuses most of the people we know.  But that is what happens when you are a military family.  You become pragmatic.  She has a job in Hawaii.  We have a farm there that needs attention.  It simply makes since for her to make the move now.

 

So I come back to the thought that began this dialog.  I live in a beautiful community.  It’s in the mountains next to the ocean.  It’s affluent.  We have an amazing view of the Palos Verdes Peninsula and Catalina Island.  It’s a reasonable commute to my civilian gig and quite peaceful.  So am I going to miss this life?  That is a difficult question to answer.  I have a hard time imagining life back in the city, but I as I drive about Malibu I feel it is time to move on.  I will miss my neighbors.  We have an amazing community here.  It’s the first time I’ve been such an embedded part of the community.  I am well known and well thought of here.  But… it feels uncomfortably familiar.  I am antsy.  Beautiful as it may be its beginning to look quite mundane.  Yes, time to move on.  I think my main issue is a bad case of wanderlust.

 

I feel a bit self conscious telling people I am quite happy in Islamabad.  How that hell does that even work?  Forsaking the gilded coast of Malibu for a somewhat dangerous 3^rd world country?  I wish I could provide you all an answer you would understand.  Alas, I can’t.  I am a sailor.  I am happiest when moving on every 2 or 3 years.  For my neighbors in Corral Canyon: I will always cherish the community we created after that terrible blaze.  It has been an honor of the highest order to be part of that process.  My family by this point knows that I am a hopeless wanderer.  My wife puts up with my frequent absences knowing it will pay off in the long run.  My children just know this to be what I do, for better or worse.  My mom and sister have watched this play out over a lifetime.  My friends… I am not sure what to say to my friends.  I am incredibly lucky to have wonderful friends all over this planet.  I am deeply touched by the number of friends that have offered up spare rooms for when I return.  I love you all.  Thank you for remaining in touch.  Thank you for putting up with my occasionally extreme politics.  Thank you for making my life richer. 

Cycling in Islamabad

I just got back from a short 15 mile bike ride.  I’m not allowed to ride up in the Margalla hills right now due to security threats.  So I rode along Margalla road down to F-9 Park.  It’s a huge park here in Islamabad.  It was a very busy day for all parks today.  It’s the end of the Eid Al Fitr weekend and this coming Wednesday is Pakistan’s Independence Day.  So traffic was epic.  I haven’t ridden in traffic this busy since Thailand or perhaps Indonesia.  I forgot how much I love riding my bike in traffic.  I suppose it’s from growing up riding a bike on the streets of LA.  I ride better in traffic than I do on mountain trails, and I’m no slouch on dirt trails.  Funny, most of the American’s I work with hate Pakistani drivers.  They complain about the way they drift about on the roadway and don’t seem to pay any attention to what might be behind them.  All those complaints and yet I feel safer riding along in heavy traffic in Islamabad than I ever have on the Pacific Coast Highway.  Yes Pakistanis drive much slower, but more to the point, they do pay attention to whatever is in front of them.  They look for obstacles, like pedestrians, goats, cows and bicyclists.  So it was a fun ride, and a relatively safe ride.

 

So many people were worried for me when they found out I was headed to Pakistan.  Americans seem to think I live in a land full of terrorists and Islamic fanatics.  OK to be fair, there are some terrorists and Islamic fanatics here.  Just as there are some terrorists and Christian fanatics in the USA.  Many of the people I ride by look at me with some suspicion.  No doubt I look very strange to most Pakistanis, wearing shorts and a brightly painted bike helmet, gloves and eye protection.  I ride an odd looking bike and go nearly as fast as most of the cars here.  So I can understand some suspicion.  What I didn’t expect is the number of people who wave.  Who say hello.  The parents who have their children shake my hand.  This city has a great many very friendly people.  In America we rarely treat visitors this well, especially those that don’t speak the same language.  I am enjoying my time here, half a world away from family and friends.  I’ll be back soon enough.  Not much will have changed where I work, in my home town, with my friends, but I will feel as if I’ve been gone for a decade.                    

Shia Mosque Bombing Thwarted

Life continues to be curious.  Yesterday I left work around 4:00.  Our new roommate rode with me.  He is still getting his bearings so I asked if he knew about the 4^th entrance to the diplomatic enclave.  He didn’t so I decided to show him.  It’s a bit of a drive as the main entrances face the city while this one faces the small village of Nurpur Shahan, North East of the enclave.  It’s a nice drive through an area vastly different from the rest of this city.  You go through the local bazaar area before turning south on 3^rd Ave toward Murree road.  It was a nice drive, saw donkey carts, many people, cows, goats and horses wandering about.  The rest of my evening was completely uneventful. 

 

 

Then a short while ago, just before 8 AM my phone rang.  It was a guy that works for me.  He was calling me to let me know his flight was diverted.  They should have landed at Islamabad but were diverted to Lahore.  Not only that but they were forced to deplane.  The claimed reason was weather but, while it’s raining right now, it isn’t particularly bad weather.  So I decided to go online and check the news.  Apparently there was a threat and search at Benazir Bhutto airport over 22 hours ago that the authorities are now saying was “training”… doubtful.  The more interesting article was about a thwarted mosque bombing yesterday afternoon.  A heroic security guard got in a shootout with a very well trained suicide bomber at a Shia mosque.  He managed to kill the would-be bomber but was also wounded and died later at the hospital.  This was in the little village of Bara Kahu about 2 miles east of the village we drove through yesterday afternoon.  I’d be lying if I said this was not a bit sobering.  It pissed me off as well.  This sectarian crap is as evil as it gets.  Killing one another because “MY god and kick YOUR god’s ass” or perhaps it’s more along the lines of “YOU are worthy of death because you don’t pray EXACTLY the same way I do”.  No matter, the perpetrators of this crap, the leaders of this evil will burn in hell, or be reincarnated as lowly insects or in some way, no matter your belief, will be punished for their deeds.  I genuinely like Pakistan.  I am greatly disappointed that my ability to travel about and see more of it is being hampered by an evil that plagues the good people of this land.       

AFP Photo, dead bomber next to grenades, bullets, etc.

Friday, 5/10/13, the first day of lock down:  The Pakistan elections are tomorrow so we were to be in our houses by 2:00 this afternoon and will remain here till Sunday at the soonest.  So far the violence has all been outside of Islamabad, bombings in the FATA, shootings in Karachi… OK I’ll admit shootings in Karachi are not necessarily politically motivated any more than shootings in South Central LA were in the 80’s.  Ah, but my turf, last night I had to be at Nur Khan to receive an aircraft.  We weren’t finished with the customs clearance until perhaps 7:30 PM.  We then had to take the pilots to one of the houses to rest.  On the way we ran into mobs of mini-bikes and cars waving flags.  On the main boulevard we inched along between lights and finally took the “scenic route” past the city cemetery.  After all, no one excited about an election wants to be reminded of the dead on their way to a rally.  At one point we were heading south on 7^th Ave, now heading to my house, the pilots having been dropped at another place.  We suddenly saw a mob of perhaps 100 mini-bikes and dozens of cars heading North toward what turned out to be a political rally expected to draw 10,000.  People in America don’t get anywhere this excited about politics.  Sports championships perhaps, but politics… yawn.  It was a night of circuitous driving and patience. 

Today we only worked less than half a day, 8:00 till 12:30.  We had to be back at home before the dreaded hour of 2:00.  Why 2:00, who the fuck knows.  The State Dept personnel are simply being told to avoid rally’s and gatherings.  Us military types apparently need to be treated more cautiously.  Odd I know, but that is today’s military.  Hell back in the 80’s we’d be on liberty in South Korea during the student riots.  We would be told, just don’t go near any universities.  Which of course we would immediately do, out of curiosity, or because we were too drunk to garb the correct train to Inchon.  Oh, wait, perhaps that is why we’re locked down? 

OK, anyhow today was a good day.  I spend time cleaning the bike I plan to ride the hills on.  It hasn’t been well maintained.  The last guy to use it complained it shifted poorly.  No wonder the chain, sprocket and chain rings were all curded up.  All better now.  Then I smoked a stogie and read some more of “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72”, a highly recommended book as a primer on politics and elections.  Everyone should read this book if you care how your country is run and how elections are managed.  Anyway the rest of the day has been equally relaxing.  It’s a nice change of pace.  Forced to take a real weekend off, a rather odd concept for most of you I imagine.       

The Smell of this Place

Something I meant to include in my last post, but forgot, was the smell of this city.  When I first traveled to Korea the entire country reeked of Kimchee.  The Philippines, at least Subic Bay, smelled of tropical humidity and raw sewage.  The main sewage outlet from Olongapo was “Shit River”.  I think the river’s true name is the Olongapo River and perhaps they use that name now but for decades the sailors only knew it as Shit River.  Even my father called it that and he last visited was the mid 50’s.  So what is my primary olfactory sensation from Islamabad?  It is the pungent odor of wild marijuana.  Every day I notice more of it, it grows everywhere; on the diplomatic enclave, across from the US Embassy, across the street from one of our General’s houses, in the parks, in the shopping area planters, on Pakistan’s military bases.  The smell is not overpowering and I imagine most American’s don’t even recognize it, but I do.  I find it amazingly surreal to be in a capitol that has that distinct, pungent, smell ever present.

Pakistani Elections



Election flags in Islamabad

Another day another earthquake.  We had a 5.7 this morning.  Nothing frightening, at least not frightening to someone who grew up in California and spent time in Japan.  Still though, this is the fourth reasonable sized tremor in the past 30 days.  I haven’t been here long enough to know if this is “normal” so I suppose I should do a bit of research on that.  It’s just another thing to be aware of here.  Awareness is important for expats in Pakistan.  Even though we have reasonably free movement within Islamabad there are limits.  Hiking in the Margala Hills or attending an art show at the Marriott or Hotel Serena require a locator card from the Regional Security Office at the Embassy.  This is a way to know where larger groups of American are in case the shit hits the fan.  When hiking we are always in groups.  There are two trails cleared for diplomatic personnel.  This means they have a larger military/police presence.  Mind you, very few here have actual diplomatic status.  I am here on an “official passport”.  It is brown, not blue like my tourist passport.  It allows me to be here and do my job but does not include the diplomatic immunity that a red “diplomatic passport” conveys. 

So awareness, Pakistan has elections scheduled for the 11th (next Saturday).  Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) has been blowing people up in the Northwest.  They have a standing threat against Americans.  Karachi has more of a serious criminal element threat than an insurgent threat.  Here in Islamabad we have only had to deal with demonstrations and marches.  I haven’t seen any of them myself as I am at work during more daylight hours and also because we receive notice to avoid these areas.  Funny, back in the late 80’s in Korea we used to specifically check out the student demonstrations.  But back then the threat was more from teargas and police. 

Political flags and banners are everywhere.  Clearly there is a great deal of energy pent up and waiting.  We shall see what these next few weeks bring.  Still, this is one more element to be aware of.  We live in a city covered with check points and detours.  For myself and the people I work with we simply flash our blue embassy badge and have no hassle.  It is pretty annoying though to have so many road blocks.  You want to go straight up a street but have to turn left to avoid barriers and then make a U-turn mid-block and then a left back at the intersection.  All the time being aware you’re in a right hand drive country.  All the time watching out for other cars, motorbikes, horse carts, pedestrians, bicycles and anything else that might interrupt your plans.  Driving here is barely controlled chaos.  Whoever reaches an intersection first has the implied right of way.  Cars and motorbikes will pass on either side of you, or cut you off just to turn in front of you.  Driving here takes a particular degree of diligence and awareness.  You have to negotiate the road obstacles, the chaotic traffic and still be vigilant in case some dumb ass has evil intentions.  Some of my co-workers spend a great deal of time driving cursing other drivers and aggressively trying to force them to drive like someone in the US.  That is such a waste of energy and cause of needless stress.  It is much easier simply to drive as the Pakistani’s do.    

I feel like I have something of an advantage having grown up in LA during the violence of the 70’s and 80’s.  Having big city street smarts is quite helpful in places like Pakistan. 

 

Life in Islamabad

 

I feel I should apologize for these posts being so few and far between.  The work load has picked up considerably.  As the lead logistician at a time when moving hardware to Pakistan is job #1 I am pretty busy.  Add to that the other areas I am in charge of, vehicles for all the personnel assigned to the Security Assistance Office, housing, and generally providing stats and answering questions about all of these processes I stay pretty busy during the six day work week.  Today is Sunday, for me it was another work day.  I owe an updated brief on vehicles to the one star in the morning.  This was my one chance to tackle it interruption free. 

 

The one thing keeping me grounded is Tai Chi Chuan.  I wake up and practice for a half hour every morning.  It keeps me from having allergy attacks, keeps me from stress, and generally makes me feel amazing.  I find that the more I practice the more it feels as if my feet are anchored to the earth.  The only struggle is trying to learn the remainder of the form from my teacher’s CD.  I miss the classes.  If anyone in the LA area wants to learn Wu style Tai Chi properly let me know and I’ll put you in touch with her. 

 

Life here is not bad.  I was a bit worried as I recalled the animosity between State and DOD at the embassy in Kabul.  Luckily this is an entirely different scene. This embassy is much nicer.  Lots of trees, hills, it has a college atmosphere to it.  None of the twisted Sci-Fi feel of Kabul.  Of course I do work in a welded steel building without windows.  That bit is a bit odd I suppose.  It is likely the safest building on the campus though.  Oh wait, there is one other surreal aspect to our Embassy in Pakistan.  It is in the large diplomatic enclave, a closely controlled and guarded area.  Coming from SoCal it was a bit weird to see thousands of marijuana plants growing like the weeds they are right across the small road from the main gate of the embassy.  It is an endemic plant in these parts. 

We work long hours but are being paid well for it.  I will contribute a fair amount of my pay to the local economy I imagine.  Tribal rugs and hand carved furniture are dirt cheap by western standards… but let’s put this in perspective.  A driver makes about $6,600/yr.  My usual lunch at the Handi Shandi costs less than $1.40.  I am one of the few who routinely eat with the locals who work at the embassy, curry chicken, dall, briani, naan, it’s all cheap and tasty!  Pakistan has had a deteriorating economy for years now and it shows in the prices.    

Margala Hills and… the Pakistani Weight Loss Program

There are no true certainties in Pakistan.  I’ve been here just 3 weeks but that much is apparent already.  One near certainty, if you have allergies Islamabad will remind you of it.  I found this truth right out the gate, day 7.  Went for a hike in the Margala Hills.  These look similar to the Santa Monica Mountains of LA… only different, different dirt, different plants, same general shape and height though.  Seven of us hiked, a mix of State Dept. and Military.  We went up trail 3 and back on 5, about 5 or 6 miles total.  At the top of the hike are a pair of restaurants where we hoped to buy some frozen yogurt.  Alas, the yogurt place opens at 10 and we were there at 10:05… so no luck.  Oh, I suppose I should explain that in Pakistan, just because a business opens at a specific time does not mean you can shop at that time.  10 was simply the time the workers arrived.  The yogurt would take a half hour or more before they could sell any.  So, back down we went.  It was a nice day, a good hike amongst the scattered goats and cattle. Seemed an odd place to forage cattle and goats but then who am I to judge?  This is the same area I hope to do some rock climbing in.  Apparently some of the Brits have bolted a number of sport routes in the hills.  Good news for me and once my rock shoes, harness and helmet arrive. 

The haze the day we hiked was also reminiscent of the LA basin.  Well, OK, the LA Basin of the mid-70’s.  Visibility was only a few miles.  Apparently this wasn’t smog so much as dirt, moisture and pollen.  At the end of the day I developed a sore throat that lasted for days.  No stuffy nose, just an inflamed airway.  Not too pleasant.  So I began getting back into my Tai Chi practice, half an hour daily first thing in the morning.  That quickly helped.  We shall see how it works over the course of the next year.       

Another near certainty in Pakistan is that, as a visitor, you will experience the unique Pakistani diet regime.  Or, as the professional medical types refer to it, an intestinal issue.  Be it traveler’s diarrhea, tape worms or whatever.  (Gee, I guess this post is going downhill faster than usual).  It’s now been a week since I properly digested anything.  Great weight loss tool I must say!  So anyway the usual treatment of antibiotics didn’t touch it.  I need to head back to the clinic when they open Monday and see what my next option is.  In the mean time I am beginning to think differently about food.  I do like the local Pakistani fare but at the moment nothing sounds remotely appetizing.  This must be the adventure part the Navy used to advertise!