http://www.AgnesPages.typepad.com

Movie night

 

Until next time.

Agnes

 

October 4, 2010

I wanted a vanilla latte this morning instead of an iced coffee. 

I think it's a sign that Fall is finally here. {Florida Fall that is.} 

For dinner, I am craving Middle Eastern falafel, Afghani naan, Hungarian tomato salad and Indian jasmine tea...... What's that a sign of?

Agnes

Worlds out of balance

{Not that I actually made it to the beach since we got back, nor have either of us been near a camera. Nor have I picked up a book. But I did drink lots of coffee and this photo happened to be on a memory card lying on the dining table and I have forgotten how much I like that shirt.}

I guess when after almost a week back home, the Head and Shoulders shampoo bottle still makes you think you're in Dubai, it's safe to assume that you haven't quite arrived back to reality yet. 

  

Is it just me or there's a definite resemblance?

Physically in Florida but still in a maze of time zones, caught up in layers of colliding realities. You can't help but change a little with each of these trips. 

Many years ago, after my first visit to an Afghani refugee camp in Pakistan, my life changed forever in ways that are hard to describe. Without getting into the horrors of it all, let's just say that after everything I experienced in that camp that day, I promised myself I was never going to complain about anything in my life ever again. 

And a few months later, back home, in the 10-items-or-less checkout line of Albertson's, there I was, bitching about the woman in front of me having 11 items in her cart.  

Pakistan continued

{LIVE FROM PAKISTAN #3}

{Sorry about the quality, I had to doctor this photo quite a bit -- there was a guard in it who is not allowed to have his photo taken. 

I am not very good at editing so you can totally tell that I messed around with it but I know you'll cut me some slack -- I really, really wanted to show you my local self.}

I have about 10% charge left on my laptop and we have a black out so this is probably going to be a rather short post. 

There are three power outages per day here, each one hour long, designed to preserve energy.  Most hotels, bigger restaurants and shops all have generators so this is usually a good hour to go get something to eat.

We hit this cafe almost every day but since they explicitly told me not to take photographs there, I am just not gonna tell you what it's called. Anyone in Karachi I am sure will recognize it. Here is another photo of it, notice the South African flag hanging there? 

Due to some strange turn of events, Geoff and I found ourselves in an electronics store last night lounging on foldable red lawn chairs with three local guys and five body guards watching the opening game of the World Cup. Don't ask how I ended up there! Luckily we were only made to watch the first ten minutes...

I do not actually remember experiencing scheduled power outages on our previous trips, or maybe I just didn't notice them. 

Loading some random photos here while I've still got some charge left.

I love this country so much. 

I sometimes feel as though I am a character straight out of "Arabian Nights". I love wearing local outfits or at least incorporating some pieces into my regular gear. Maybe I'll do up a post on local fashion/how I as a westerner get by here. Anyone interested?

 
I don't think these carpets would go very well with my decor back home but I would sure love to get my hands on some bags made out of old Afghani carpets...

 

Yay, the power is back -- gotta go. For a quick post, I did pretty well I think. 

Thanks for visiting. I hope you're enjoying this little peak into life in this part of the world. 

Until next time.

Agnes

By the way, birds don't fly because they have wings, they have wings because they fly

What I am thinking about right now:

 {Cameron Heights, Malaysia}

and

 {India}

and

 

and this too:

{young Tibetan monks}

and this too

 {Afghani refugee school}

and this:

 All that, and more. 

In reality, I am just home, about to make some tea before I hit the sack.

{The one and only Himalayan jasmine tea and speaking of world travel: a Pakistani tray, Thai napkins, my favorite Indian incense burner from Bangalore, teapot from Taiwan -- I think I will do a post soon on all the junk in my kitchen just to ease my travel withdrawal symptoms.}

Today was an ordinary day, far from my once glamorous traveling days... just the usual. Crossed the bridge:

and drove for an hour to get to Geoff's hospital...:

 {I really don't know how anyone can function without a driver's license, driving is so therapeutic}

Well, the above two pictures certainly give you a pretty accurate idea as to our "travels" these days: 

running banal errands...

{Geoff took this at Bright House customer service today, having just left the hospital and en route to pick up some fresh water. I look real classy again, I know.}

...and juggling life. 

 

One of the things I miss the most about "real" traveling is the resourcefulness that comes from staying at a monastery in some forgotten corner of Asia -- the utter simplicity and beauty of washing your body in a bucket of water. Of course, I could do that home too, but that wouldn't be resourceful in any way and it wouldn't get me out of my safety zone. 

Then the assortment of hotels we stay at, lush, fancy ones in big cities, then humble, very unfancy ones as we fan out onto dirt roads, villages and beyond. And the further away you go from safety, as luxury gets scarce, your perception of value changes, and suddenly the blanket and the tea bag you saved from the airplane are immensely valuable. The further away you go from the city, the less appropriate your city clothes become, you slowly start relying on your own instincts, throw away things you don't need and value the things you do need.  You shed the synthetic social self, the self you normally spend all your energy on presenting to the world in a certain light... And with every step you take, without ever even noticing it, this artificial version of yourself disappears completely and little by little you come to the conclusion that you're not your profession, not the picture on your driver's license, not your money, and definitely not what other people think of you.

See, you're not a different person when you travel. 

You're still you, but on the road, you're in a different context. 

The road makes you feel new.

And that is one of the many reasons I miss the open road.

{hope you enjoyed my virtual tour of the world, and a small tour of my day -- all photos were taken by Geoff and myself and most of the travel ones are low quality scans -- sorry about that} 

Perspective

Came across these photos going through some old memory sticks.

(These were all shot in film and the prints were scanned later. There's a lot of wear and tear I know. I have tried to fix them as best I could.) 

-

 

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(Ameena. She's only 32 in this picture, can you believe it?)

-

These women are so beautiful. They belong to a non-profit Geoff and I had the privilege to work with, called R.A.W.A. 

(Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan).

We first met them in 2002, in Pakistan via a friend who's a medical doctor with her own non-profit. 

I am not going to get deeply into the issues at hand in Afghanistan, but I will say that the horrors these women have been through are rather difficult to stomach. 

Things most of us in this part of the world take for granted, such as

-

- basic women's rights, 

- the right to education, 

- not having to cover our faces when in public, 

-

these women have to fight for every day. 

-

Many of them had their husbands publicly executed by the Taliban, many had acid thrown into their faces for standing up for their rights -- and much, much worse. 

-

I took these photos in Rawalpindi, Pakistan, where we first met them. The indestructible purity of courage and integrity reflected in any of these women's faces is without parallel in anything I've ever seen before. I wish these pictures were better quality or that I could find the negatives. Some of my pictures of them were actually published in a few magazines and newspapers at the time and all I have is the newspaper scans. Well, whatever the quality, I like these pictures.

-

 

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I really miss that part of the world.  Many of my friends think that it's some big sacrifice for us to go to places of little or no comfort, but it's so not that way. A bit hard to describe but being able to be involved in and contribute to 

-

something I believe in, 

something larger-than-life, 

something worthwhile, 

something unselfish

- 

is what being alive means to me. 

 

-

I really believe we're only in our element outside our comfort zone. 

Our comfort zone is our prison. 

-

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Thanks for reading, everyone.

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Until next time.

-

-

Agnes

Links:

Understanding Afghanistan:

LAND IN CRISIS

* warning: disturbing images  

RAWA