Familiar sounds and seeing a city the right way

The photo is of Faisal Mosque in Islamabad.

 

Some sounds are visual. They just force an image into your mind that is probably born from experiences or understanding. You hear a dog bark you think of a dog, you don’t know what kind of dog it is but your mind shows you a mental image of a dog. Try to hear the bells of an ice cream truck and not “picture” the truck.

Last night one of those sounds came clearly to my ears and mental TV screen. The sound was that of a rifle bolt being pulled open to chamber a round and then being released to force the round up the feed ramp into the firing chamber. It’s a very distinct sound.  It’s a sound that normally is followed by a gun going off.

Naturally, this caused my heinie to wink a bit. The “door” to my guesthouse room was possibly 1” thick hollow core wood, at best this door was meant to be a closet door. Not exactly the kind of barrier that instills comfort or hope when one hears such things.

I quietly moved away from the door and stood near my closet, which incidentally had wooden doors mounted to concrete walls IE an actual barrier. I listened and heard a few more sounds that made my blood pressure rise, more bolts being drawn and slid forward, metallic clicking and fingers on wood and steel, but the confusing part was the voices. They were calm and joking…it sounded like two guys having a conversation while dinking around with their rifles. The whole thing seems so stupid that I open the door, and sure enough its two guys in the room across from mine sitting on their beds “cleaning” their AK-47’s with their door open. You know, its 10pm, time to strip your weapon, watch American Idol scare the shit out the foreign guy in room 29. I shook my head and shut the door. In the morning when I was leaving to shoot, I ran into them in the hall this time they had their police uniforms on. They smiled when I waved at them.

I still wanted to punch them for making me stain the chair in my room.

None of that really matters at this point as I am now in Lahore.Mr. Niaz dropped me at the train station in Rawalpindi at 710 am for my 730 (inshallah time) train. I made my way through the unattended metal detector with my bags, beeping as you may imagine.  Questioning why bother buying the damn things if no one uses them and sat down for a cup of chai complete with Pakistani Railway Sugar. I quickly found out that inshallah time is not used for the trains but real actual normal time is. After sprinting to my seat, the train slowly made its way out of the station thus began my 4+ hour train ride to Lahore.

Lahore is…as I put it in a note to a friend, east-er and hotter. I took the train this time because I generally like taking trains; you get to see an older part of the country. The roads are far newer than the rails so you are likely to only run through crowded city areas and stop at a truck stop or something along the way. Trains show you the cool parts of an area. Sadly this also means the poorer areas.  This was no exception.  The terrain seemed to ebb and flow in tidal like from scraggy plains with small villages complete with train chasing dogs and dirty faced kids waving at the train, emerald green rice fields populated with handfuls of squatting villagers harvesting or planting under soot filled skies hanging over multi-storied urban areas seemingly still under perpetual construction. The land was beautiful but layered with garbage and open stagnant water. Walled compounds and livestock tethered to the ground.  Children running with plastic bags on strings used as makeshift kites. Families living in tents and shelters made from corrugated aluminum, tarp,fabric, signage and anything else that can be found.  Its sad in a beautiful way. You roll by in a train made 50 years ago past villages that look thousands of years old.

Once I arrived in Lahore I remembered how beautiful it was but also how polluted it is. The air has a constant haze in it, a hanging cloud of diesel, charcoal, burning trash and dust. Still, some of the buildings and parks are stunning,

The hotel on the other hand, is in dire need of some construction or destruction. The AmerHotel seems to be teetering on the edge of decency and rattrap. The lobby area is nice the rooms are not. No matter I am waiting for a friend of my friend Douglas’ to meet me at the hotel. Jehanzeb is a young officer in the Pakistani Army who went to Sandhurst with Douglas. JZ has offered to take me around Lahore for a bit and that is the best way to see a city really with someone who knows it but lacks the conceit of a life long resident. In the mean time I am seriously looking forward to eating lunch and squaring away my return ticket via train ASAP. I am in Lahore for two nights and then back to Islamabad for two days doing nothing but prep for Afghanistan before heading off to Kabul.

JZ arrived with two other young officers on motorcycles eager to take me out and about. After several aborted attempts to meet another new friend/co-worker it was just JZ and I. while riding in circles looking for a café that doesn’t exist, I saw a sign that read “Gun smoke Diner” complete with the silhouette of Clint Eastwood from Unforgiven.  Naturally I was intrigued. In the end it was close, sounded interesting and JZ had never been there either so we went for it.

Holy crap! As soon as the door shut I was speechless. Pakistani men wearing red cowboy hats, American flag bandannas around their necks, vests and sheriff badges with their names on them! I nearly wet myself in horror and shock. This is why we are hated. I finally found the true cause.

I am constantly asked why does everyone in America think everyone in Pakistan is a terrorist? I felt like asking everyone there what the hell he or she thought this was supposed to represent? Bowls of peanuts sat on the table with shells strewn about the floor, cow skulls hung next to chili pepper light garlands, posters and photos from western movies hung on the walls and REALLY bad 80’s music was playing.  Part of me wanted to keep watching this train crash slowly the other part wanted to find some roti and chicken tikka double fast.

We stayed and I did my best to explain to a confused but interested Jehanzeb. He kept laughing saying that it was funny to him that I am the foreigner and he is the one out of place.Strangely, the Buffalo wings were not bad. They weren’t great but I have had worse in the US and paid for seconds so make of that what you will.

JZ and I rode around on his motorcycle with him pointing out historical buildings, important landmarks and cool things as we passed them. A motorcycle, in my case on the back of one, was THE best way to see Lahore. You are right up in it. The pollution is thick enough that you see, feel and wear it but you still get the best view from a bike.

We went to a public park where we played mini-golf and foosball. Think what you will it was a hell of a lot of fun. JZ had never played put-put before so naturally he stomped me by 10 strokes, I earned my pride back by shellacking him at foosball not once but twice and he had help. I played my side alone he played with one of the park employees taking up the defense line and goalie. It was ugly but I will take the win.

Afterwards we got some coffees and met two of his cousins and headed off to “Food Street” for dinner. Food Street is that, it’s a city street that gets shut down at night in a very old section of Lahore for the purpose of becoming one huge outdoor restaurant. The guys enjoyed making of list of foods and things I had to try since I have never had them before, first up was Pan. Pan is a leaf of some sort, rolled up with sweets, some sort of herbs, nuts and as far as I could taste, soap. You place the rolled up lump in your mouth and chew. That’s it; it’s kind of like a sweet or after dinner thing. I think it was beetal or chat if any of you know it by that name. It’s a nut that tastes like dirt but is a mild narcotic/digestive type of gadget. I have had it in Sri Lanka and in the Maldives. I had again for the same reason I had it a second time, I didn’t recognize it.

I began to chew and they all started smiling, not out of meanness or curiosity but in reaction to my face apparently. Because instantly JZ was at my side telling me I could spit it out no problem! I can say I tried it and didn’t like it. I guess I gave away my feelings too quickly because as I said to me it tasted like dirt covered soap. I waited to give it a real shot but when my mouth started to go numb and I could still taste the violet or whatever that flavor was I spit it out. Now it was dinnertime.

Lahore is known for its food. All of its food. So it was no shock to me that all three of my hosts were growing animated while deciding what we would eat. I was constantly asked if I would eat this or that. I balked at two things. Taka Tak-which is a chopped grilled mix of sheep’s brain, testicle and kidney. No thanks. I am cool with out that in my mouth. The other was Brain….anything.  Two of the guys wanted brain masala, JZ and I went to for roasted chicken with rice and spicy friend quail. The food was amazing!

While walking off the meal we walked by a street stall selling knives, swords and random crap like that. I made the mistake of seeing the brass knuckles and saying “ooh COOL!” because we stopped I played with them and JZ bought them for me. I tried to back out but he wanted to buy them for me. So now I have a pair of steel “brass” knuckles, illegal both in Pakistan and the US.

Suhweet!

We finished the night off with a desert call Two T. Two small shallow clay plates are filled with a gelled mix of milk, rice and sugar and stuck face to face. You buy the plates cum pot and split it open, scoop out the pudding like mix and bask in the simple glory of milky ricey goodness.

A short ride back to my hotel and my night was over. Time for bed. Jehanzeb and his cousins took amazing care of me and showed me some really cool parts of the city in a very short time. JZ also demanded that I give his number out to anyone I know who may come to Lahore or Pakistan for that matter, and he will help you out in anyway he can.

Tomorrow I am working with Ella, a young journalist who moved here from London to work for the daily English language newspaper here the day after I arrived in Pakistan. We are working on a story she pitched to the Guardian in the UK about a school program she came across funded by a private NGO she knows.

I am looking forward to working with a writer and submitting work to the Guardian. I am looking forward to shooting something that has a good chance of reaching printed matter at this point.

Ok kids, time for bed.

And by the way, I did try the brain masala…like the Pan; I have learned that I will be ok not eating that again.

 

Good night all.