Well, we're finally here. In Pakistan.
36 hours on a plane.
When Sam used to complain about the flight, I'd to say things to him like: "You should consider yourself lucky. 36 hours, all to yourself, no pressure to exercise, no screaming kids. It's like the perfect way to spend 36 hours, while I'm at home taking care of the kids. By myself."
Wanna know what I think now? I was totally right! Once we were on Singapore airlines, it was like a party in the sky. Of course, that may have been because of the... um... anti-anxiety medications I took. I won't tell you the exact name of the pill, but it rhymes with "shmalium."
I thought it would be safer for everyone concerned if I took shmalium, as opposed to me doing one of the following:
1. Spontaneously combusting
2. Shaking uncontrollably
3. Jumping out the window
My favorite thing said to me on the trip so far: (Spoken by the Pakistani-American guy from L.A. who was going home to visit family):
"Isn't it cool? Within a mere few hours, you leave the safest country in the world and arrive at the most dangerous." He also mentioned how Pakistan gets a raw deal in the media, and I believe he is right.
He also was traveling with an American friend who had never been to Pakistan. The friend decided to grow a beard before the trip to better blend in. So bearing that in mind, I have decided that the entire time I'm here, I'm not shaving. Not even my sideburns. In no time, I will blend right in as well.
Upon exiting the airport, we found ourselves among a throng of hundreds of Pakistani's, many (if not most) in traditional garb. I felt very very blond. I didn't get a chance to take pictures, because the last thing I wanted to do is look very very blond and look like a tourist too. So I will get pics today and tomorrow to post.
I woke up this morning to Sam asking me this question: "Holy cow, Bro. Do you wanna see the awesomest toenail ever?"
No matter the country, some things never change.
