Lahore-VIP style

Babar gave me a ride to Lahore, hooked me up with a place to stay and took me all around the city (at times via motorcycle, but mostly with his driver). First things first, I was dying to get a salwar kameez . We went shopping and before I knew it I was ready to practice my broken Urdu. I would manage to ask a question or two and then look like a deer in headlights when they responded in full on Urdu. Yikes! It was funny. Before I spoke, I looked just like a local! Yeah baby. I was so surprised to find more chains in Lahore than any big Northern Indian city; we drove by a Dunkin Donuts, Baskin Robbins, Armani, Benetton, GNC, Subway, McD’s and surely others that I am forgetting. There were big shopping malls in Lahore and traffic was far more civil than India (less cows, but more water buffalo) Everything stayed open really really late. Dada, we went to Food Street got some great lassi and pina colado shakes (yes, I do pretty much eat anything off the street now. Deb and I were buying carrots and cucumbers on the street in DH and peeling them ourselves, I drink water that I boil instead of buying endless bottles and even drank from Ganga Ma (Ganges River) don’t freak out Dada, that was weaks ago and I am still alive).

The next morning I naturally woke up pretty early since I have been hanging out with yoginis who rose at the crack of dawn. I was ready to venture out by 8am and was excited to explore only to find out the whole city was closed. I thought it might be a holiday or something, but no, nothing really gets going till 10:30 or 11am! I was shocked. I should get a job out there. (assuming I ever work again). Oh yeah that reminds me, Nini congrats on being the only Haider working!!!! You make us all proud.

I met up with Babar and his driver. He works for the Tourism Ministry so our driver had govt plates so we got to drive right up to any site and park right out front. It was classic.

We saw the Data Ganj Baksh Shrine, Badshahi Mosque and Allama Iqbal Mausoleum. I also went to check out my dad’s university. I roamed around, took some photos for him and looked for his name in the main academic hall. I didn’t see it, but must have been looking in the wrong place J

After driving around, one of Babar’s friends who had lived in the US called us. I chit chatted with him on the phone and he used to live in Chicago. Great! Small world. Next thing I know we are on our way to meet him for lunch. Babar started to tell me how he used to live in Chicago, the Bronx, Miami, Puerto Rico and somewhere in Texas blah blah blah……Then he goes on to tell me how he has the dopest Toyota Road Runner with 6 tvs, huge speakers, etc. I thought it was all an exaggeration. I asked him how long he lived in the US and why he moved around so much. Turns out he was a drug dealer, killed someone, was in jail and finally got deported a few years ago! Great…..and we were on our way over for lunch. We pulled up to some shady chop shop that he owns, and yes he did have some ghetto gangsta mobile with 6 tvs, spoilers, tinted windows and probably hydraulics! He looked like he alone could have supported the local Dunkin Donuts and McD’s (Inga, kind of like that sketch ball I rented my Chicago apartment to! Come to think of it, I am sure they were somehow related). So I met “Mo” and despite being in my salwars, he asked me if I was Spanish?????!!?? I told him half Pakistani, half French….blah blah blah. He ran the names of some Chi-towners by me as well as some people from the Bronx who I had never heard of, and then he started saying “Fuck America man…..fuck America…….” . Yeah, pretty sketchy. I told Babar I had lost my appetite and needed to get back to the border. I wish I could have gotten a picture of the scene!