Don’t Squat on the Toilet Seat

Dread. I woke up this morning with a pit sinking infinitely down, well past my stomach. The void of existential dread where the sensation of immense discomfort cannot be pinned to anything. The only knowledge is that things are not right. Things are changing. I can choose to be indecisive and believe my inaction resolves me of responsibility, or I can make decisions even when I am not fully convinced they are right.

I am indecisive about my indecisiveness. 

But one thing I did do is buy a flight to Karachi two days ago and now I am staying at my BEST FRIEND’s home. This will be my second time in Karachi. My second time that she is not here. But we are slowly inching closer together. First time I was with another family. This time I am with her family. Surely the third time I will be with HER. Inshallah. 

Karachi is the biggest city in Pakistan. It used to be the capital before it changed to Islamabad—a much more strategic city for a capital given the surrounding mountains. 

Karachi, being in the south and by the sea, is much hotter. 28 degrees Celsius. HOT! It’s as if February washed away and the coldness that rocked my bones for the past month and a half has been cured in an instant. My brain fog is dissipating, probably also a consequence of the cold wearing away. I really need to be warm otherwise everything falls apart for me.

So yes. This is good. 

On other news, if you ever need a visa consultant for Pakistan, I can be your girl. I have officially navigated the visa extension system with no external assistance required. With a little bit of persistence, anything can be done. In total, I drove over 7 hours in two days just to get a piece of paper printed. Not even a passport sticker. Just a paper. 

But with this paper, I am officially legal in the country again. 

So yes. This is good. 

— 

The past few weeks have been quiet. Nothing too touristy, travel-esc or extravagant. Meeting cousins, drinking lots of green tea (no one will convert me to milk, never ever). 

I feel in love with a goat. Mera bakra (my goat) is named Boba. I then had boba in Pakistan (thank you the Chinese influence). Of course it wasn’t very good, but it’s the aesthetic and the process of the boba consumption that matters more than the taste. 

I met a colleague who I have been working with online since August. We went to the Natural History Museum in Islamabad. Definitely one of my favorite natural history museums ever, but I am excessively biased to anything Pakistani. 

Life is sehr gut again. Very good. 

My final seven days in Pakistan have begun, and it is a tragedy to say goodbye, but I know it will instead be “see you soon.”