What I Did on My Winter Vacation Part I

Remember in grade school when everyone did a report on what they did over summer/winter break? Since I went to Carlisle, those reports were very exotic -i.e. "I went to St. Thomas!" "I went on a tour of Europe with all my friends and a man named Nobel Marshall, and my Gucci watch fell into the Thames river!" (a la Lyz B.). Since I was a foreign kid, our vacations consisted of going back to a "developing country," Pakistan and dealing with the harsh, uncomfortable living conditions there.

Looking at property with Ayyaz and Shahla!

And so, this past break, I went to Pakistan after four, long years. I was anxious about my trip. I had just recently finished my Immunity and Infection blog so I was super paranoid about the exotic diseases that were endemic there. What if I got tapeworm?

Things didn't start out well for me. On the day of my departure, a huge blizzard hit Toledo. It was nearly impossible to get to the airport. My taxi driver was an old man of seventy. This was going to be the guy to navigate the dangerous, snow-covered streets and carry my 50 lb suitcases? Alas, I made it to JFK.

My dad and I flew on Emirates Airlines, which was fairly pimp - much like the U.A.E. - needlessly flashy and conspicuous. My throat started to hurt, though, mid-flight, and I started to sneeze continuously. My dad had taken an entire Ambien and alas was little help in providing me with a diagnosis.
"Dad, I'm getting influenza!"
"Mariam, you have acid-reflux," my dad said in a drug-induced sleep haze. I had suffered from Ashlee Simpson disease for nearly 10 years, and I knew that this feeling of general malaise was not GERD.

We finally reached Lahore, Pakistan after 18 hours. It had been a long flight, and I was anxious to get out of my smelly, plane clothes. However, there was no sign of our 3 suitcases at the baggage claim. Then, we waited in a small office filled with scary, aggressive, desi men, who kept saying, "Welcome to Pakistan!" in response to my anguish over the lost luggage.

One boy of about 20 started chatting my dad and I up, and I thought in my head, I will impress him with my super premium Urdu-speaking skills. He won't even realize I'm from America! Tragically, this boy started to use big words I didn't comprehend. I stared at him blankly, and my dad translated. So much for blending in with the natives.

We finally headed to my nana's house after spending three hours in a claustrophobic office reporting our lost luggage. I didn't get my luggage until four days later, and I had to wear my only outfit - a Carolina sweatshirt that my mom had bought me from the little boys' section. All the while, I was filled up to my ears with snot and had developed a hacking cough that made me sound like a pack-a-day septuagenarian with emphysema. Attractive. My mother, in a desperate attempt to make me look presentable to relatives I had not seen in four years, told me put on some lipstick. Unfortunately, there was no hope for that ill-fitting Carolina sweatshirt and my non-matching Uggs.

Pictures of Jinnah everywhere!


--Part II coming soon: Jumping through bureaucratic hoops to get my luggage, and a surprise at the Karachi Sheraton.

--By Mariam, who is really upset by the New Hampshire primary results and has been awake since 5 AM due to jet lag.