Karachi Diary. Part Three: A Cockroach who was German

I really didn't want to eat at Xanders but my family was going there earlier today for lunch so decided to tag along. We went to their Khe-Bukhari location and the waiter wiped down the table we were to sit at with a piece of cloth that he was carrying around in his hand. Soon thereafter, my 15-year-old niece suddenly screamed because there was a cockroach crawling on the side of the wall next to her. The scream got the waiter's attention, who casually walked up to our table, completely nonchalantly squashed the bug with the same piece of cloth that he was earlier cleaning our table with, and quite offhandedly said, as if it was entirely usual, "Ye tau German hai." 

I looked at the waiter, who was looking at me, and I said to him, somewhat incredulously, (probably looking like this guy): "German?" 

Waiter: "Jee ye tau sirf German cockroach hai." 

I was not sure what to think except double you tea eff is a German cockroach and why was it perfectly acceptable at a supposably* high-end restaurant?

*Yes, I wrote that.

Karachi Diary. Part Two: Driving Like a Maniac

You know what they say: "You can take the boy out of Karachi but you can’t take Karachi out of the boy." I think they also say, "Don't call a 43-year-old man a boy," but whatever. 

I've been here three days now and been driving since day one. My first day, I was a bit apprehensive because, as you might know, driving in Karachi can be difficult, especially after you have been driving in North America for the past few years. I started driving the car like a timid Canadian, giving way to all the other cars, motorcycles, bicycles, rickshaws, buses, trucks, tankers, vans, eighteen-wheelers, twenty-two-wheelers, donkey carts, and cows on the road. But I soon realized that if I were going to do that, I would pretty much just stay put and not really go anywhere. 

Day two, I was back in the groove. I had my hand on the horn, I was cutting off every car, motorcycle, bicycle, rickshaw, bus, truck, tanker, van, eighteen-wheeler, twenty-two-wheeler, donkey cart, and cow on the road, and was basically back to driving like a maniac. 

Good times. 

Karachi Diary. Part One: Home and Back Again

I can't believe I have become one of those people who now only come to Karachi on vacation for a few days. It's quite saddening for me and hurts me somewhere deep inside my core. It just feels weird to be home as a guest. And I also can't believe I am documenting these blog posts as "Karachi Diaries." 

Anyhow, this time around, I landed in Karachi towards the tail end of the monsoon season. On my second day here and I am sitting in my living room with the following view, as I smell faint petrichor (I'm sure I must be imagining it), while some people in my house eat the last of the mangoes. 

I swear it feels like I am a character in the midst of a heavily cliche'd South Asian novel.