After 10 years, I am back in Karachi to attend family weddings.
Of course, it is all an adventure. At every corner, there is a caring face, a mysterious fruit, a thick-skinned merchant, a rickshaw that may or may not run you over, and a gang (yes, a gang) of cats. Plus some.
Not many of the things I see here come as a surprise because I have visited before, even if those visits were many moons ago and under slightly better public conditions.
If you want to prepare for a trip to a country like Pakistan (and you will know what I mean as I go on), then absorb your experience as a college student to be better equipped.
1) Credit your sources of caffeine
Namely tea. Coffee Bean's iced tea has made me sick, but the questionable (yet DELICIOUS) Pathan tea I drank out of a questionably clean teacup in the middle of the market did nothing to upset my system, that I know of.
My body welcomes anything that will keep my heavy head awake at this point in life.
Even native Pakistanis take a risk when they drink this tea, which is smart but sad, because it is so good.
Don't drink it right away during your trip, though. Honestly, I think I just got lucky.
2) Campus Foot Traffic
Listen, you may think you're an expert at playing chicken on campus and dodging the skateboarders and bicyclists that come at you, at the same time from every direction, but you have yet to live.
Sit back down.
I'm not about to talk about walking among crowds in Pakistan, even though that is a challenge of its own. I've got road traffic on my mind.
Have you ever strode opposite of a 2:30 class that just got out? Do you often have to dodge a large crowd? Can you imagine doing that, except all the people you're zipping around are cars, motorcycles, buses and trucks? And you're an automobile too.
I can't turn my face away from the motorcycles that compensate for entire mini-vans. Children who are not old enough to even speak sit unimpressed as crazy cars and buses veer past them and their families.
Baby Abdul does not care.
Waking up with a missing shoe on one of these motorcycles many years ago was a surprisingly calm experience. I had fallen asleep at a wedding (don't ask me whose, I'm never quite sure) and my cousin took me home. All that mattered was a question of what gutter swallowed my shoe, and that I was getting home to bed.
The people who have the nerve to drive or ride a motorcycle in Pakistan may be some of the bravest people you will ever know. That is not to say that driving is rare (because if it was, the traffic I'm talking about wouldn't exist). It's just to say that the people who live here know how to deal with it (until public policy kicks in to rectify traffic problems, right?).
I don't care how smooth you are with your convertible and how good you are at zooming past the peasantry in the right lane. I get it, you're cool (and you lack self-control, patience, and time management skills, which is super fly). You can never touch the Pakistani who gets behind the wheel in Karachi.
First of all, you have lanes, and you are capable of exceeding speed limits (which have to exist in the U.S.) because your car physically can. I'll leave you with that.
3) Traffic Near Campus
I'm not done talking about the marvel that is South Asian urban traffic.
College campuses are not fun to drive near. My campus is near construction between the airport and the Vegas Strip, plus I commute among adolescents that have only yet circled their suburbs to get to the schools they are zoned for.
These kids have no problem with you jumping out of the way of their car because they are too busy looking at their phones while you try to avoid being reversed over. The experience of jumping away from people's bumpers for dear life has kept my heart rate steady as I watch pedestrians in Karachi walk towards moving cars.
Stopping at crosswalks and dodging jaywalkers (in the dark) is one issue. Slamming your breaks before rear-ending or T-boning someone is another.
Sliding past oncoming cars in your questionably-designed parking garage is a headache that you just have to deal with (even though the Vegas Strip is right next to your school and the parking garages there are quite alright).
But that is not quite how things work in Karachi.
(This typical truck art translates to: Long live Bilal. Look, but with love. Bilal is likely the owner of the truck.)
About 10 times in one trip to the mall, you may think you will witness a disaster unfold in front of your eyes. Children will run out into the middle of the street during traffic hours, maybe because they can (but they really can't). Cars and motorcycles will squeak past each other like Krabby Patty picklesbecause they can. There is no room nor security to allow cars to exceed certain speed limits in traffic, so tailgating isn't actually tailgating, it's just another part of your Sunday drive.
Pakistanis are resilient, though; they won't die. They hit their brakes, looks both ways and carry on. They walk into the middle of traffic with some confidence that they will make it to the other end of the road.
I can't find it in me to care that a motorcycle is continuously running adjacent to me while being inches away from my car door.
Car horns are a language. In the U.S., we use them to communicate to drivers who cut us off or who don't pay attention to fresh green lights. In Karachi, they mean, "Hey I'm present and I'm about to pass you, so don't drive into me."
Driving to my commuter campus has prepared me to sit somewhat calmly in the back of the cars that zip through Nazimabad traffic. That's all.
4) Campus food
It might be too much to credit the food options available to me on campus for the strength my immune system has shown, so far. SO FAR.
But I had ice cream (okay, two ice creams) on my first day in Pakistan, which is a bold move. That's just how I roll, though. That is because I have to adapt my system to the dairy in this country. I've developed a habit of hunting down fruits and vegetables after eating campus food, so I'm lucky to find exotic fruits here to build my strength after consuming the endless treats the city offers.
(These carrots are red.)
Also, I'm sure my taste buds are grateful to actually be put to use here. Food is more flavorful and, would you believe it, even Pepsi tastes better in Pakistan, not that I'm partial.
5) Campus Pamphlet People
Capable young men on the streets of the Hyderi market are trying to sell me coloring books and cloth fo' dat cash money. I had a flashback to pamphlets being shoved in my hands on campus.
Whether beggars hear me whispering in English or detect my accent, they assume that tracking me and following me with coloring books will solve their problems.
Other than desperation, I'm not sure why someone would target a girl who looks too old to color but too young to have toddlers of her own.
Similarly, on campus, I'm not sure why pamphlet people want to hand a girl in a hijab literature on the apocalypse.
The beggars even bring up the end of time and the wrath and mercy of God. Sound familiar?
Furthermore, there are displays of religious symbols, which is not uncommon in the United States. I'm just not used to seeing Islamic displays in public.
It's also refreshing to see symbols expressing praise for Islam without worrying about Sharia law warnings. Calls to prayer throughout the day are a reminder of transcendence beyond the hustle and bustle of a crazy urban life.
It is strangely comforting to see the "ma sha Allah" signs whenever I can, because this term signifies joy and appreciation. As I sit through crazy traffic, I see signs of life from the drivers' determinations, the decorated buses and the spiritual expressions.
Sharp instincts keep the bony cats and average citizens here alive and kicking. Experiencing genuine hospitality is the best way to learn how to care for others, so I credit my family here for teaching me how to be a welcoming person.
I wonder if natives even understand what a marvel they are.
We may polish our instincts and have grown considerably in college, but I know that nothing will prepare someone to survive in Pakistan, other than actually being in Pakistan.
