Arival Adventures

I’ve now been in Pakistan almost one full day and I’ve already had many experiences. Thank you so much for your prayers; I know you have been praying because even when the going was difficult, I was born along on a secure peacefulness that almost never wavered.

The flight over here was mostly uneventful and pleasant. One exception was when I almost missed my third flight, the transatlantic overnight flight from New York to Dubai. I had been in transit since 4am and it was then 11:00; my flight was to leave at 11:30. Since I was feeling faint, I decided to grab McDonalds before going through security. I finished eating just as I heard over the laud speaker that my flight was boarding. I rushed off to security but was unexpectedly turned away. I needed to have my ticket reissued through Emerites instead of the original United, they told me. I tried not to think about the potential consequences of missing this flight as I ran back out to the front of the airport, my 30 pound backpack bouncing behind. I arrived back just as the my name was being called over the speaker. “Last call for Michelle Noyes; Michelle Noyes, please make yourself known!”

The flight itself was very nice. I actually felt a little guilty to be flying in such luxury to a place that is so poor. Every seat in the plane was equipped with a personal entertainment station, complete with video games, movies, TV shows, music, and internet. Everyone using them reminded me of the personal entertainment pods in the movie “Wall-E”. I tried to listen to by book on tape, Three Cups of Tea, and cross stitch, but once it got too dark to sew, I had trouble keeping my eyes away from all the flickering screens. So I gave up and watched a few movies myself. I watched The Princess and the Frog, Surrogates, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame (in German).

I had another adventure when I arrived in Karachi. I wasn’t able to fill out my customs form because I didn’t know the address I would be living at in Pakistan. The airport security would not, therefore, let me leave! I convinced one security man to walk with me out to where the Stocks were supposed to meet me. I was sure that the Stocks would be able to clarify the situation and pacify the now quite unsettled security people. But the Stocks weren’t there. To make matters more difficult, I hadn’t brought the Stock’s cell phone number so I couldn’t contact them. On a payphone, with the guard standing over me, I called my Interserve contact but there was no answer (this is not entirely surprising since it was only 3:00am in the states).

At that point, the security guys started to insist that I go to a hotel and wait for someone to contact me. I tried to stall, sure that the Stocks would come for me eventually. Now desperate for help and for the Stocks contact info, I called my mother. Thank God, she answered. For the next hour, my mom called other people and ravaged my documents to find the Stocks address or phone number; I waited anxiously on the line, scanning the crowd for the Stocks, uncomfortably aware of the waiting guards. After three phone cards worth of time, my mother was able to get the Stocks info from a friend. (Thanks so much Mrs.Lee!!) I called the Stocks and heard Pat’s cheery voice assure me (and the guard) that they were only two minutes away.

Once I was safely in their care, I found out that my itinerary had said I wouldn’t be arriving till 1:00. My flight had arrived at 12:20 and I hadn’t met the Stocks until 1:40. It was a scary hour and a half but I couldn’t help but realize that if the guards had let me thorough customs without insisting that I met my contact, I would have been waiting alone and unprotected. As it was, I was surrounded by professional, competent and very concerned airport people for as long as it took for the Stocks to arrive. Praise God!

Many more things have happened since then. We spent Tuesday evening traveling back to Karachi. I had, at that point been up more than a full day (I hadn’t slept on the planes) and so the trip that lasted until midnight Wednesday morning is all a little blurry. One thing I do remember is stopping an hour from Karachi to take chai (tea) at a “bus stop”. The roadside café turned out to be a brand new eating extravaganza recently christened “The Island”. The place consisted of outdoor tile paths snaking around elaborate fountains. On the tile were endless tables. Some were wide and low and had cushion seats on top of them. The place was beautifully landscaped and manicured. It was a little eery, since we were the only ones there.

I also remember the trucks on the road. They are very large and extremely colorfully decked out. You should google image them to get the idea; they are hard to imagine! They look like circus trucks crossed with dinosaurs crossed with something from a Hayao Miyazaki movie. They are completely covered in red and gold tile, neon lights and flashing mirrors. They also have large figurines suspended from the bottom behind woven steel skirts ring the perimeter of the truck and tinkle as the truck moves. You don’t hear the skirts, thought, because of the cacophonous clamor of honking horns. Everybody honks their horns. There is a great variety ranging from the straight sounds we understand as horns to sirens, and things that sound like a trumpet playing scales.

This evening I will be going with Pat and Paul to a mourning service. People usually stay all night but Pat says we will only stay until midnight. I will have to change out of my green “three piece suit” outfit and into a borrowed purple “tribal” outfit. I’m currently wearing an outfit borrowed from one of the Stocks friends. One of the reasons we went to the bazaar this afternoon was to get me some clothes of my own. We picked out three sets of clothe to have three outfits made for me then we took the cloth to a tailor. While the tailor measured me and talked about the order with Pat, a boy fetched us mountain dew sodas in glass bottles. I'll tell you more about the bazaar and put up some pictures later.

There are many interesting things to tell you about. The Stocks parents are here and they knew Bilquis and Synnonve Michell (people who feature prominently in the wonderful book, "I Dared to Call him Father". The house here with its 7 cats and the roof room filled with birds. The bazaar with winding isles of overflowing shops. The clothes, the animals, the sounds, the foods. But I am very tired and have a persistent headache. Goodbye for now!