It’s Pepsi. It’s ice cold. It’s a special T20 edition, and who pray are the world’s big daddies when it comes to T20?
Will we ever live this down? Ha Ha Ha! No!
So, want some?
(If anyone mentions the million £s bit – you’re officially blinded by greed, therefore no longer my best friend! Your loss.)
I’m so glad someone else has highlighted such an important point. We’re often overlooking how much is truly being done to safeguard civilians.
Please take a moment to read this blog post over at Islamabad Metblogs.
I don’t know if it’s a similar story in Lahore, Peshawar or Karachi – maybe the security situation in Islamabad is that way because it’s the capital, hence it’s that little bit more precautious?
Aaaargh! Just when I thought, I’d freed myself up for some quality blogging time i.e. not just ranting and raving about personal bakwaas, but some carefully thought out stuff), I get lumbered with yet more work – at work (obviously) and the extra stuff I take on. Brain is mush…. Urgh!
I think it’s because I’m hot and bothered that I’m noticing the sourpuss-faced village-mentality idiot work colleagues over the lovely, well traveled types. I seriously want to knock someone’s lights out. I usually overlook the former, coolly disregard them and treat them for the trash that they are, because that’s the best treatment for them. I do usually have fun contradicting all that they judge about me. It’s good to keep narrow-minded folk on their toes – the surprised looks on their faces are extremely amusing. But then honestly, I’m glad to have people like that around, they remind you that life’s a bitch, but that I can totally claw this bitch’s eyes out.
Uff! That’s the heat speaking, I have some Pepsi, cooling down in the freezer, need it now.
Anyway, on a nicer note: The weirdo who sits next to me, who started following my tweets, well, I mean, I don’t hate this girl or anything but I just like my privacy. I would like to sneak on at every opportunity I can, but this way, she’s keeping tabs on me. I don’t trust anyone enough for them to kind of ‘monitor’ me in that way. I’m a very private person anyway, I don’t like revealing too much of my personality to others. I think a lot of experiences in life have kind of painfully taught me to be my only best friend. But I’m no sadistic loner either. Just someone a little cautious. I hope someone reading this is able to relate.
The surprising thing is, I read her twitter and discovered what she thinks of me, and I’m touched. Not only that, but have kind of realised why she clings on to me, follows me around and stuff and also why she laughs all day. I’ve just realised she thinks of me as entertainment – I do crack really tacky, cheap jokes, that I personally don’t find funny, but she giggles all day, thinking about them. Psycho alert eh? And I ‘brighten up her day’ and without me she can’t ‘enjoy her working day and things like that. Awww!!
That’s my exact problem, I can never be a bitch! I keep using the word over and over thinking somehow it will awaken the evil bee-atch inside of me, but non – nada! I guess it’s just not in my nature after all. Hmph! Which is why I’ll always attract the victimised, and I can’t turn them away either, because I know all too well what it’s like to be in their shoes.
I could see she’s been a little isolated since she started work here, because she’s a foreigner, like me. She’s an expat of another country, just like I am. I’ve lived with it for five years, and I was stubborn as hell. Was never a coward to like run away from conflict, I kind of stayed to face the music, I wasn’t fierce about it though, neither was I docile and hate the whole – ‘poor me, I’m a victim’, believe it or not, if someone hates me, and I sense it, because I’m a weirdo like that – I respect whatever it is they think of me, as long as it’s not life-threatening. We just can’t please everyone. I can love, hate or feel indifferent towards people. It’s not the end of the world to discover you have haters too. I know when to back away, graciously from such groups and not make an idiot of myself. I generally think I’m a good judge of character and can sense people’s true sentiments against me. Especially haters. Figuring out how someone might actually like you – is extremely tricky.
My little neice has barely turned two and she’s this delicate looking beautiful little thing, but she is a gangster! That’s my name for her. An eight-year old boy tried to poke her the other day, she grabbed hold of him by his hair, and kneed him in the face! Atta girl! She’s done loads of things like that and have been told I was exactly the same (not cute-wise I’m sure, haha - just unnatural strength wise),. My big brother still has the scars to prove it. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t pampered and princessed up as much as my prissy older sister. I also remember all too well when I newly came to England and some big kid used to hit me at playtimes, I was only about 8 or 9 at the time, but I finally grabbed the guy by his neck and wacked his head, repeatedly, into metal railings. Let’s just say no one ever bothered me again at that school.
I think in those five years, I was just determined to just stick it out, just for the sheer principle of it, I didn’t allow them to trample over me, and I’m glad and for that reason too, I did manage to ”earn their respect” and got promoted twice over that time frame. Now they can’t get rid even if they tried, because they can’t find anyone as ‘competent as me’, or so I’ve been told, by the big boss herself. Now is the ideal time to leave, on a good note. But now thanks to recession, I can’t! But I really am sick and I’m tired.
I’m tired of sticking up for myself and others all the time, why can’t I be seen as weak, given special treatment and finally have someone stick up for me, one day?
OK, before I get sacked and all my efforts – of five years – at saving face are wasted, I must get off the internet and start working! We’re not one of those modern, vibrant offices where something like what I’m doing is commonplace, I work with a bunch of old women who adhere to hitler-esque work ethic. If I get caught here, I’m (does cut throat motion) – that!
I’ve missed you and have neglected you for too long.
That won’t be the case now though, since my Twitter is no longer my sacreligious vent off point, I’ll be shifting a lot of it here, again. It’s just one of them things when nosey colleagues end up disciovering you use a certain social network tool (I’m so clumsy and can’t be secretive to save my life) and want in, not realising you use it to kind of bitch about them, yes.
Well not necessarily bitch, more about but saying ‘’someone’s gunna get it, real bad’, that someone who happens to sit next to you 5 days a week, 9 hours a day – whose laugh grates on your nerves, then you twitter about it and next thing, she’s following you.
Or another person, you call a meticulous wench, and guess what? She follows you.
I thought I’d left facebook politics behind, over a year ago.
Uff! Can a girl not escape work??
But I’m glad, as this is home.
If you don’t get what I’m talking about, it’s ok, I’ll try explaining it another time.
KABOOM! Take that! For all you cynics who never believed.
… is beyond my thinking.
BUT, I’ve been watching some MTV Iggy videos up on the website and this particular one I felt the compulsion to share with as many of you as possible. Plus, thanks to Kalsoom and Saqib for making me aware of this initiative.
Here is the video.
I don’t wish to incite hatred against India, I just want to see an honest, clear picture of where and why things went wrong and the biggest factor contributing towards the downwards spiral of Kashmir was the Indian govt’s very, very poor decision-making not once but continuously.
I’m usually pretty snappy at shooting out opinions on politics-related anything, whether I have any background knowledge or not. But the Kashmir issue is one of those exceptions where I’ve been a little tentative in expressing myself in the aforementioned manner, only to let myself think with a clear mind and be completely honest with myself, thus others. It’s a topic I find far too close for comfort.
William Dalyrymple’s words aren’t set in stone or something I will believe blindly, but still, it’s the first time someone else (non-Pakistani) has confirmed my views on the tension (understatement there) within Indian-held Kashmir.
Whatever happens next is up to the Kashmiris themselves to decide. But I know where my loyalties lie.
Swat in Northern Pakistan formerly referred to as ‘paradise on earth’, with its lush green hills, ginormous mountains graduating towards the Himalayas, plush hotels, scrumptious kebab joints and luxury ski resorts - now crumbling into nothing, all as we silently observe.
It’s always been a pet peeve when something of immense value falls into the hands of the wrong person. Especially when there are folk out there much more worthy of having it in their possession. In the case of Swat and its surrounding areas, that can be amplified tens of hundreds of times.
But it’s not us who have lost out on an ‘idyllic vacation spot’, it’s the Swat Valley inhabitants who have lost absolutely everything. And those who have proved very lucky, are those who were able to escape with their lives, but that’s not the end of it. This is just to spare a little consideration and try to imagine what they, and ultimately us, have lost in this war. As much as we want life to be free from trials and tribulations, sometimes it’s true, they are but tests towards our being merely human.
Yes, I’m feeling guilty for leading a relatively easier life than those refugees, ok, a very, very easy life in comparison. But as every other human, I too have struggled in life, have felt the pangs of hunger, pain, illness, loss, grief, but most of all the feeling of being helpless. Albeit in manageable portions; enough for me to have had learned valuable lessons in life and the ability to know I wouldn’t wish to witness anyone else experiencing these things. Especially not children.
All I can do is put my money where my mouth is really. In the past I may have donated money but I was far too modest about it and did it secretly, but since, I’ve learned it’s far more proactive to scrounge money off friends and family (I truly have the ‘chaska’ for it now). It’s so easy folks, honest! Just hone in your chosen person, march over to them and assertively tell them they owe you such-and-such sum of money, when they ask, ‘what for?’ They can’t really argue when you tell them it’s for such-and-such a cause. This way, you’re paying the sum you originally wanted to pay anyway but doubled, trebled thanks to contributions given willingly or unwillingly from friends and family. But saying that, there should also be an element of trust there. One) people should be able to trust you. Two) you should be able to trust these people, they may agree to cough up the pennies but then disappear, never to be seen again. But then I suppose in the case of the latter, you’re still the one getting the eternal rewards for helping the trampled-upon.
But then that’s not necessarily supposed to be the sole reason for doing the above. Of course. Ahem. Because we as observers are also being tested, it’s not only about the victims.
Aargh! Whatever, whoever’s reading this will already know this anyway, it’s all common sense really, plus I’m sure most of you have already dug deep to contribute. I just hope that however much it is that we do for them, is sufficient.
Here’s a link for a list of charities working towards helping the IDPs, for those of who who have yet to cough up. Don’t make me come knocking on your door, seriously.
Do the right thing. Take care.
As you may have guessed now I do like comparing things. It’s a bad habit, but hey, you guys asked for bakwaas, now here, have some.
There are some things in life that are incomparable and some of those I value deeply. Everything else in-between however, is subjected to my comparing.
About the two cities, I’ve now buzzed around both, thus I deem I qualify in order to make a comparison. So, let’s start shall we?
To be perfectly honest, aside from the language difference, there is hardly any ‘visible difference’ between either city. They share a similar general landscape (buildings), climate and a very similar metro/underground/subway system. There’s a similar cosmopolitan feel and a beautiful blend of people from all over the world. Ok, so the touristy places are distinguished like London’s Big Ben and Buckingham Palace etc and Paris’s Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, yada yada. Oh, and the cuisine! Of course, food, but even that depends on what kind of food you’re looking to eat, I suppose, if like me and the BFF you’re going to dive on fast food, then that omits any differences in cusine too.
However there are some differences worth noting down:
Men:
It’s a fact, the men in London are gay, most of them are anyway. I’m serious. I’ve visited London about three times now with my female friends and have really made an effort with my appearance each time. Oh, and by the way ‘making an effort’ isn’t necessarily about roping in men – actually honestly, that’s never truly my reason for taking care of my appearance* – but I’m completely treated like I’m invisible in London. I fail to elicit even a blink! Are they blind? Do they even know who I am? How rude. I could just swear they’re all gay!
Men aside however, people in London never make eye contact with you and come across cold and snobbish. There’s generally a very ‘tense’ atmosphere. I suppose it is one of the hubs of the world’s financial activity, maybe that contributes to the busy and ‘tense’ factor.
There’s a famous unspoken rule about the London Underground too and that’s never to make eye contact (let alone speak) with fellow passengers on the tube.
Now, Paris, is the complete opposite. The men (and women) were so open, welcoming and friendly it was touching. It’s so not what I was expecting. I was used to the arctic bitch factor of London. I was literally treated like a princess. All that attention does have its negatives though and for the first time ever I got unprecedented attention from men, me, more than my friend (which she wasn’t very happy about). There’s a certain point where it’s all really flattering (or in my case, embarrassing) but beyond that point it’s just perverted, and there were a few unsavoury ‘incidences’. luckily other people in my vicinity interfered and kind of rescued me. Girls, don’t forget to pack the pepper spray. Even then though, I didn’t feel so threatened by him, I felt I could easily have outsmarted him and ran, but I suppose I should never underestimate these things. But it’s like instinct with some people, with some guys in the past, I’ve only to have recieved so much as a look and I’ve felt so shaken and violated and permanently traumatised.
I think the worst time though was was when I split up from my friend whilst shopping at the Champs Elysees and we agreed to meet a certain shop, I was crossing the road and bumped into two American tourists who then began to follow me calling out ”voules vous couche avec moi”. Like I don’t know what that bloody means? I didn’t say a word, just ignored them like I hadn’t heard them and tried losing myself in the crowds but they followed me around for atleast 20mins, even following me into a shop, where I sought help from the big, burly security guard there. He finally put an end to it. Phew! Just be careful girls. Remember, men in Paris, whether they’re tourists or locals, are quite unashamedly keen on women. When I told the girls at work about the latter incident, they were surprised I hadn’t turned on my heel and yelled: ”Oye, I’m from Manchustuh! And I’ll deck yuh’s!” They would have ran in the other direction quicker than lightning, never to bother me again. Haha! That sounds right actually. Seedy Americans, honestly.
Then there was another thing that happened which was really, really sweet, I’ll blog about that another time though.
Fashion:
Parisians dress very casually and minimalistic. Quite unlike how urban folk dress in England, but one thing’s right though, they may even look boring but Parisians never seem to look tacky. I truly envy them for that.
In England people are generally a bit more expressive when it comes to fashion but at the same time not all of these fashionable folk can carry the look off, on a whole, they risk looking very, very tacky.
It was a gay guy in the Kenzo menswear boutique who I was speaking with who actually instigated this whole London vs Paris debate thing. He was a Frenchman completely enamored by London over Paris, because of the ‘flamboyance’ and ‘E…’ damn, what’s that E word he used… Can’t remember now. Anyway, he’s gay, Londoners are gay too, so of course – that’s his spiritual home.
General attitudes:
Friendly, very warm as I’ve already mentioned. Always willing to help, well in my case anyway. They actually went out of their way to help me out. Like many times when I asked for help with directions they actually walked us halfway to our destination. Sometime they’d approach us themselves if we looked a little lost. Or one teenager, I remember when we asked him for directions and about two blocks down we amost took the wrong turn and he ran to catch up with us, down those two blocks, out of breath, he then proceeded to walk us to the place we wanted to go before turning and going back the way he was originally going. Anything, anywhere, whatever, they helped us out. I’m truly indebted to these people. Wait till you hear the other story about that ’sweet’ incident too. You’d be awestruck. Oh wait, how can I forget about the old owners (brothers) of Cafe Istanbul, a few doors away from our hotel. We ate there every night we were there and sometimes during the day. They really treated us like princesses. They’d be so happy to see us whenever we walked in and then they weeped when we bade them farewell. Sniff! I’m feeling the compulsion to return already.
Then there’s the return of the caring attitude when it comes to protests and things. I heard that Paris holds many a street protest/rally, quite frequently. I was there for roughly 6 days and only got to witness one protest and that was one against the Tamil Tigers. I noticed how strangers off the street no matter who were quite respectful to the cause and either joining in or being pleasant enough to at least enquire about the cause and help themselves to flyers. Everyone just looked so interested, whether it was some European, Asian Oriental, African or Arab, whoever.
One can’t even dream of either the former or latter attitudes being present in the mindset of the Londoners. They simply don’t have any time to spare a thought, apparently.
Accessibility:
As I said in the photos post, everything is just so within reach. In London it’s as if you can only admire things from a distance. It’s all cordoned off and manned by security personnel at certain parameters. Boo!
Whereas in Paris everything’s seemingly just so open and within your reach.
To be fair, at the time when I visited London to do the touristy things like London Eye (it’s so crap!) and River Thames cruise, it was really busy and during the summer at peak time. Despite having pre-booked tickets, we still had to wait about 2hrs to board on each attraction. Those tickets weren’t exactly cheap either. Really didn’t enjoy it.
With Paris it was a relatively low fare and didn’t have to wait as there was hardly a queue to go up the Eiffel Tower (still, we didn’t go, as we opted for a refreshing stroll around Parc du Mars and some ice cream instead. That and the fact that my friend’s scared of heights) and then there was the River Seine cruise which was a low fare and again hardly anybody queuing and it was a really relaxed and stress-free experience. Yippee!
The Pakistani cuisine dilemma:
This was my first time visiting France, in case you were wondering. I recall watching ‘9os TV show Gulls and Guys and the part when Junaid Jamshed (pre-mullah makeover era) visited Paris, there was a Lahore Food Street style place which served Pakistani food. It was my mission to find this place. Thanks to my friend S’s research skill, she found it. It’s called Passage Brady and it was only a 5 minute walk from our hotel in 10th Arandissement. Perfect! But, no make that a BIG BUT, there was no Pakistani food. It was Indian food only. Now there is a difference between these two cusines (and I’m glad to know that French people reportedly know and appreciate the difference). Besides we couldn’t eat there anyway as the meat used wasn’t necessarily halal. I would have been happy with vegetarian but then, maybe I’m still a little narrow minded, as I wasn’t entirely comfortable eating in a place where everywhere my eyes rested was a picture or statue of the Hindu gods. Sorry, but I’m being honest when I say I didn’t feel very comfortable. We left Passage Brady and finally found a Halal eatery run by Muslim Indians from Delhi. The food was a-ok.
You see there’s a reason we were looking specifically for Pakistani food, let’s ignore the bias with my being a Pakistani myself; honestly who can dispute the superior yumminess of Pakistani food? Who? No one! My experience in Saudi Arabia (well mine and a group of Pakistani-food-loving Moroccans experience alike) substantiated the true value of wholesome, authentic Pakistani food.
Be wary though, a lot of Indian eateries in Paris claim to serve ‘Pakistani food’, well they don’t, it’s a rip-off ploy. We tried in vain to find a Pakistani place but ended up eating at Cafe Istanbul anyway (their stuff was gorgeous too and I’m craving it so bad now).
Our prayers were finally answered on that day were shopping at the Champs Elysees when we spotted a tall man dressed in Pakistani attire; a white salwar kameez, a mirrored Balochi style waistcoat and the pagri and all that jazz, holding up a placard reading ”Authentic Pakistanais Cuisine” (ok, so all of it was written in French). Upon approaching him he led us into a mall leading to the restaurant. This time I wasn’t taking any chances and asked the men there (they were all old ‘uncle’ types, ok? No ideas please) – whereabouts they’re originally from, we only took a seat when they replied Lahore. And then, we feasted on cheese filled naan, a fingerlicking, yummy mixed grill, saagh aloo, parathay and mango lassi, yum yum yum YUM! Then when we got the bill at a ridiculous 65 euros (!), we came straight back down to earth!
Oh! We also spoke at length with the uncle jees in Urdu about Pakistani politics and my Mush-loving friend joined in with the waiters as they did some Zardari-bashing, yawn. When they finally shut up I asked them about why it’s so difficult to find Pakistani food in Paris and why there are ‘fake Pakistani eateries’ etc. They replied that in terms of ‘desi food’ Paris is behind England by about a good 15 years. Wow! Britons are very lucky. But in England Pakistani food is marketed as Indian food in most premium restaurants in order to sell. Completely opposite to the situation in Paris really.
So there you go then! Despite the food thing though, there was no real issue really in finding Halal food, there were plenty of Arab, Turk etc places everywhere really.
So, this is a no brainer really; It’s PARIS all the way!
Now these are my very personal experiences, views and I’m sure such experiences variate between individuals.
Here are some more pictures of places I loafed around in the French capital. Apreciez.
Eiffel tower from a distance
Very apt eh? Seeing a giant billboard reading ‘Visit Australia’.
This was my first sight of the tower, just as we got out of the metro station. Can’t believe how excited we were at that point, we hopped, skipped and twirled our way towards the tower. Then we got ripped off mega by some roadside painters who insisted on drawing two ‘beautiful British ladies’ (don’t even ask how they guessed that – or how much they charged).
On closer view (one of those cliche type snaps – sorry Specs)
Gosh! Every picture has a story, I’d rather let you appreciate my amateur but effin’ brilliant photography instead. Stories can come later – I’ll dedicate whole posts to them.
Oh! But let me add, I loved the accessibility in the city, you can go up to things (i.e. the Eiffel tower) and hug them and nothing’s cordoned off or anything. It’s kind of a homely, cosy feeling. Love it.
Champs Elysees & a glimpse of the Arc de Triomphe
Arc de Triomphe
The above was taken whilst standing at the side of the road. I did take one closer up and at a central crossing area to get a better view, but then they look boring, this looks much better, I promise.
Some random statue, against the backdrop of a clear blue sky
This statue was right near our hotel. Sigh! I loved our hotel, we had a lovely adjoining balcony too. Could have spent a week just on that balcony. Not much a view as there was scaffolding up, but those builders had hot model-looks and I did whistle at them once and held up my bottle of Orangina to them in a toast (those orange pulpy bits in Orangina can seriously mess up a girl’s head).
Please don’t laugh, my friend forced me to come here, honest-to-goodness!
I’ll just like to add; this place is seriously, seriously tacky! It’s strictly infants only. Still we managed to have a giggle or two.
A hot air balloon (no snidy jokes about me here please)
Exterior of Mosquee de Paris
The courtyard and prayer hall area is absolutely amazing here, unfortunately didn’t think to take any photos at the time as we were in a flurry about the Jumah congregation, which is very atmospheric by the way.
The masjid’s cafe
This was such a tranquil beautiful place. There were plenty of non-Muslims there too, leisurely soaking in the atmosphere and the sounds of birds chirping in the trees overhead (ok, now I sound like an OAP, maybe I should take up bird watching and stamp collecting).
This place transports you to some place in North Africa though (i.e. Morocco, Algeria or Tunisia) – which is exactly what it was made to emulate. I love all the attention to detail.
Another extension of the cafe, under canopy shade
The a la menthe – the cafe’s speciality
This stuff is yum but still pretty sweet, much more than I’m accustomed to – almost like a tea version of Rooh-e-Afza sans the rose extracts. Seeing this reminds me of this song of the same name, which also featured in the OST of Ocean’s Twelve.
The departures lounge at CDG airport
Au revoir Paris, till next time.
Sigh! That was fun.
P.s. There were much, much more photos than this and also more places we visited, but for privacy reasons I won’t be sharing those with you as those snaps feature me and the bestie quite prominently.
It was always a wish of mine to visit Paris in the springtime, and I did, with my best friend. I really enjoyed it, but will do a detailed post on it and add more photos soon.
Thanks for all the comments folks, will get back to all of you.
I’m aware I’ve lost my blogging touch. Before I had nothing but ‘bakwaas’ to share with you folks and I did so diligently. I’ve since noticed a tremendous change in myself and I am at a crossroads right now. That also means I’ve so much to say but suddenly I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know how to word anything. I promise one thing though and that’s that I won’t give up on this blog just yet.
Psst.. Do you like my photography?
She’s on drugs, right?
Exactly which parts do I dissect here ,when each and every second on this clip is explosive stuff?
Girls: do listen out for the ‘harbooza aur cchuri’ talk by Waqar saahib, very big brotherly.
I just love this song – it’s a classic. A bit old now, but it’s cool as you can dance along and sing along with it at the top of your voice, regardless of the fact you may sound like strangled cat – in fact try doing this wearing headphones.
Anyway, I rediscovered the above after coming across the band’s newer single. Which is really nice but for some reason I think it sounds like this song of Dino’s. Surely, that’s not a good sign, right?
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