Sunday, November 29, 2009
Happy Blogiversary to Me!
Wow, can you belive it? It's been a full year since I started writing about this stuff. Just one little year ago, when my husband was out of the country and I was going stir crazy and staying up way too late at night, I had the wild idea to write about what it's like to marry a Pakistani guy. I wrote the first SIX posts that night. Somehow, actual living, breathing readers found their way here too, and now it's almost like I have a whole community of people who know exactly what it's like in this little life of mine. I am so grateful, too, because it's really changed how I see my own life. It's been so much fun to write about this stuff, and to find other people who are writing about similar things. I am so excited about our upcoming trip, too, in part because I want to share all about it here! And in the future, I really hope to be better about this blogging business. I want to find more time to dedicate to this. I will, too, just stick with me for another year!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Two Things, Quickly
The first:
My cutie Pakistani husband, yesterday at Thanksgiving, in a conversation with a family friend...
M: Mmm! This pumpkin cake is really good!
Friend: What is it?
M: I just said that this pumpkin cake was good.
Friend: Pumpkin what? I didn't know there was any cake *looks around dessert table*
Me, overhearing: He means pumpkin pie.
The second:
Turns out I should just keep my big mouth shut lest the world decide to teach me a lesson. Turns out it can get worse. Do you know what's worse than crackly speakers in the women's prayer section on Eid prayers?
No speakers at all.
My cutie Pakistani husband, yesterday at Thanksgiving, in a conversation with a family friend...
M: Mmm! This pumpkin cake is really good!
Friend: What is it?
M: I just said that this pumpkin cake was good.
Friend: Pumpkin what? I didn't know there was any cake *looks around dessert table*
Me, overhearing: He means pumpkin pie.
The second:
Turns out I should just keep my big mouth shut lest the world decide to teach me a lesson. Turns out it can get worse. Do you know what's worse than crackly speakers in the women's prayer section on Eid prayers?
No speakers at all.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
An Annoying Trip to the Mosque
On the day after Thanksgiving, we always go to a mosque about an hour away from my parent's house. It's the mosque that was closest to M's place when he was going to graduate school, and he's always happy to go back. He likes to revisit his memories from that time, and there are always a few of the old people he used to see there, so he gets to reconnect with them too.
I can't stand the place, though. I really hate gender segregation , and I dislike it in mosques as well. Different mosques do the gender segregation thing differently, though. At our local mosque, there are a few free-standing picket fences that get moved around to cordon off areas as male or female. During prayers, they're arranged horizontally so that the women pray in the back. But at other times, such as during lectures, they are arranged vertically so that the gender divide is a left/right thing and the women are at least SOMETIMES right in the front as well. It's a small comfort for me, at least.
This particular mosque that we frequent on the day after Thanksgiving, however, segregates differently. They built a whole 'nother building, and they shove the ladies (and children, mostly) in there. They pipe in the Friday khutbah (sermon) through speakers and a TV. The speakers are crackly. The TV is fuzzy. Of course, since there's no reason to make sure it's well-received by the audience in question - it's only the women after all.
The imam's speech is bad too. He always - ALWAYS - speaks about the evil that is Thanksgiving. We should not be celebrating these "western" and "Christian" holidays. We should not be trying to imitate "them" and we should keep to our Islamic identity. Never mind that Thanksgiving is not a Christian holiday, or the fact that I am western - I *AM* "Them."
Even though I can't stand the message, and even though I probably am only doing myself a disservice by attending (I doubt that ranting on the internet about these people and this place is morally uplifting to either you or me) I still go. I want to attend Friday prayers, and that is the community I am in during that weekend and we all deal the best we can when traveling. After all, it is only one day and M derives other benefits besides any spiritual enlightenment, so I generally take one for the team.
This year, though, Eid also falls on the day after Thanksgiving, so attending services at that mosque would mean that's where we'd kick off our Eid day celebrations. Eid is supposed to be a special day and having to start the Eid day in that mosque? That is undesirable to me even when factoring M's happiness in seeing old places and friends. M agrees, so we'll be going a little farther out of our way to attend different early morning Eid prayers at another mosque near my parent's. There's no guarantee that it will be any better, but I figure that it can't get worse. InshaAllah !
So, what are your Eid plans, if you're the Eid-celebrating-sort? Or just your day-after-Thanksgiving plans? I hope you all have a wonderful Eid filled with many blessings. Eid Mubarak !
I can't stand the place, though. I really hate gender segregation , and I dislike it in mosques as well. Different mosques do the gender segregation thing differently, though. At our local mosque, there are a few free-standing picket fences that get moved around to cordon off areas as male or female. During prayers, they're arranged horizontally so that the women pray in the back. But at other times, such as during lectures, they are arranged vertically so that the gender divide is a left/right thing and the women are at least SOMETIMES right in the front as well. It's a small comfort for me, at least.
This particular mosque that we frequent on the day after Thanksgiving, however, segregates differently. They built a whole 'nother building, and they shove the ladies (and children, mostly) in there. They pipe in the Friday khutbah (sermon) through speakers and a TV. The speakers are crackly. The TV is fuzzy. Of course, since there's no reason to make sure it's well-received by the audience in question - it's only the women after all.
The imam's speech is bad too. He always - ALWAYS - speaks about the evil that is Thanksgiving. We should not be celebrating these "western" and "Christian" holidays. We should not be trying to imitate "them" and we should keep to our Islamic identity. Never mind that Thanksgiving is not a Christian holiday, or the fact that I am western - I *AM* "Them."
Even though I can't stand the message, and even though I probably am only doing myself a disservice by attending (I doubt that ranting on the internet about these people and this place is morally uplifting to either you or me) I still go. I want to attend Friday prayers, and that is the community I am in during that weekend and we all deal the best we can when traveling. After all, it is only one day and M derives other benefits besides any spiritual enlightenment, so I generally take one for the team.
This year, though, Eid also falls on the day after Thanksgiving, so attending services at that mosque would mean that's where we'd kick off our Eid day celebrations. Eid is supposed to be a special day and having to start the Eid day in that mosque? That is undesirable to me even when factoring M's happiness in seeing old places and friends. M agrees, so we'll be going a little farther out of our way to attend different early morning Eid prayers at another mosque near my parent's. There's no guarantee that it will be any better, but I figure that it can't get worse. InshaAllah !
So, what are your Eid plans, if you're the Eid-celebrating-sort? Or just your day-after-Thanksgiving plans? I hope you all have a wonderful Eid filled with many blessings. Eid Mubarak !
Thanks-for-giving
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I am really excited about it. Thanksgiving is my favorite, favorite, favorite holiday. I have always loved every aspect of it - all my favorite foods and all my favorite people, hours and hours of eating and visiting and then even more eating when it's dessert time!
My family has always done Thanksgiving up big, too. We have an early dinner and we invite a lot of people, not just family but family friends as well. The crowd varies every year, but last year in particular was very large and I think there were more than 30 people there, and even more people trickle by in the evening after their own celebrations to join us for dessert.
The food is amazing. My father smokes a turkey and stuffs it with citrus fruits and herbs, so it has this amazing flavor. The gravy is amazing too, and I don't usually like gravy. Then we have all the usual accompaniments, mashed potatoes, stuffing/dressing, green beans, broccoli casserole, corn souffle. Dessert is my favorite, and there's even a pie named after me. The people are all great too. Everyone in my family is quite a character, and we have a lot of fun together. Weird, but fun. Maybe it's so much fun BECAUSE of how weird everyone is.
Thanksgiving is actually a special time between me and M, too. When we had known each other for four months, Thanksgiving rolled around and I asked him to accompany me to my family's Thanksgiving dinner. He agreed, and he drove an hour and a half to come get me on the only transportation he had - his motorcycle. That was the first time he'd met any of my family besides my parents. We showed up on his motorcycle, and I can still remember by grandmother freaking out about me riding on the back of some guy's motorcycle. She yelled at me and even included my middle & last name in her rant. Then, the very next words out of her mouth were "He's cute!" Of course everyone loved him, he's such a fantastic guy.
The next Thanksgiving, M accompanied me too and that was where we announced our engagement and upcoming wedding to most of my family and friends. It was fun because everyone wanted to see the engagement ring.
Since then, we've never missed a Thanksgiving, and we never plan to. It's such a great time of family togetherness, and I hope my son grows up thinking fondly of his annual trek to the grandparents and great grandparents, his Poppa's fantastic turkey and his Graham's magical pies. The endless off-the-wall conversations and his great uncles' back massages and inappropriate jokes. Because if there's one thing my family will never cease to be, it's weird.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate! Tomorrow I'll tell you about another annual tradition we have that's not-so-much-fun - the Friday prayers we attend at the mosque near where my parents live where the sermon is always about how BAD Thanksgiving is. Sheesh.
My family has always done Thanksgiving up big, too. We have an early dinner and we invite a lot of people, not just family but family friends as well. The crowd varies every year, but last year in particular was very large and I think there were more than 30 people there, and even more people trickle by in the evening after their own celebrations to join us for dessert.
The food is amazing. My father smokes a turkey and stuffs it with citrus fruits and herbs, so it has this amazing flavor. The gravy is amazing too, and I don't usually like gravy. Then we have all the usual accompaniments, mashed potatoes, stuffing/dressing, green beans, broccoli casserole, corn souffle. Dessert is my favorite, and there's even a pie named after me. The people are all great too. Everyone in my family is quite a character, and we have a lot of fun together. Weird, but fun. Maybe it's so much fun BECAUSE of how weird everyone is.
Thanksgiving is actually a special time between me and M, too. When we had known each other for four months, Thanksgiving rolled around and I asked him to accompany me to my family's Thanksgiving dinner. He agreed, and he drove an hour and a half to come get me on the only transportation he had - his motorcycle. That was the first time he'd met any of my family besides my parents. We showed up on his motorcycle, and I can still remember by grandmother freaking out about me riding on the back of some guy's motorcycle. She yelled at me and even included my middle & last name in her rant. Then, the very next words out of her mouth were "He's cute!" Of course everyone loved him, he's such a fantastic guy.
The next Thanksgiving, M accompanied me too and that was where we announced our engagement and upcoming wedding to most of my family and friends. It was fun because everyone wanted to see the engagement ring.
Since then, we've never missed a Thanksgiving, and we never plan to. It's such a great time of family togetherness, and I hope my son grows up thinking fondly of his annual trek to the grandparents and great grandparents, his Poppa's fantastic turkey and his Graham's magical pies. The endless off-the-wall conversations and his great uncles' back massages and inappropriate jokes. Because if there's one thing my family will never cease to be, it's weird.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate! Tomorrow I'll tell you about another annual tradition we have that's not-so-much-fun - the Friday prayers we attend at the mosque near where my parents live where the sermon is always about how BAD Thanksgiving is. Sheesh.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Weekend Bookends in Pictures
This is how we started and ended our weekend:
On Friday, I spent all afternoon making fried vegetable fritters called Pakoras for a party. A party where I was a mere guest, not the host, yet I still made them to bring with me because I am the Pakora queen, and my pakoras are much-sought-after. This is how my weekend started.
And this is how my weekend ended. A Sunday night spent trudging in bag after bag after box of stuff we'd spent all day shopping for. The first in what will likely be many rounds of shopping for our upcoming Pakistan trip. Some of it's regular around-the-house-kind of stuff like Ziplock bags and Swiffer dusters, some of it's presents for our family like a camera and a blazer for his brothers, and some of it's stuff we'll bring for ourselves like night-time Pull-ups and baby lotion. And of course some new luggage, since this time we'll be taking SIX bags.
It was an exhausting weekend!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Starting Our To-Do List
I'm concerned about nazar. And karma. And jinxing myself. Because I don't really want to have to write the next sentence, but I will anyway.
I have never gotten sick in Pakistan. Not yet, at least.
There! I said it! Oh God, please don't have me fall ill this time just to stop me from being boastful!
Anyway, I've heard a lot about people going to various countries and getting ill. The other non-Pakistani wife of M's cousin laid in bed for more than a week (I think) during their first trip there. A Pakistani friend, upon visiting last year, was so sick and dehydrated, he was admitted to a hospital for a few days. I'm not sure of all the reasons why people get "travel sick ", but I assume it's mostly from the water, the fruits and vegetables, parasite or bacteria, or just being ill adapted to whatever flora and fauna are hanging out in the third world.
I have always had a very strict policy about water. I read it in some travel book once. Only bottled, and only if you take the cap off yourself and make sure it wasn't glued back on and reused. In fact, my in-laws buy Nestle water by the case and we bring our own bottles to most restaurants with us. In fancier restaurants, they seem to instinctively bring 'the outsider' that kind of sealed bottled water, too. As for fruits and vegetables, I'm sure I'm going overboard, but I don't eat any raw fruits or vegetables while I'm there. I'm thinking this year I may expand into eating those things that have a thick skin that can be washed with soap and water before eating, like melons, bananas and oranges. We'll see how it goes. I always think it's better to be over-careful because really, it's only a few days we're talking about here and who wants to be sick when they have such a short vacation to enjoy? Nobody, that's who. Better to be overcautious and healthy, even if it's unfounded.
Of course, I'm a total hypocrite. Because while I'll steer clear of raw vegetables, I can't help myself when I'm around street food. And which do you think is a more likely culprit of disease? The kachori that dirty, sweaty guy is hunching over in the communal bowl with the room-temperature dipping sauce, or an innocent carrot?
But besides being careful (or not) about what we eat while we're there, the other thing I credit with not falling ill (besides the grace of God!) during my previous trips is all the vaccinations I got before departing. I got SIX vaccines before our first trip. Those six were varicella, hepatitis A & B, typhoid, and boosters of my MMR & DPT. And then I was also prescribed malaria pills to take before, during and after our trip. (My doctor followed the CDC recommendations for travel to Pakistan.)
(Oh, and we also tried to lock ourselves in a large hand-sanitizer covered plastic bubble the whole time we were on the plane. Those darn petri dishes in the sky.)
This time, I'll have to decide if I want to take the malaria drugs. Mosquitos are a problem, even in the city and even during the December cold. But neither time did I remembered to take them as I was supposed to. They're supposed to be taken once a week - the same day of the week - starting the week before travel all the way until four weeks after you get back. I'll get the prescription but who knows if I'll remember. Maybe one of you can be responsible for sending me an email reminder. (Volunteers, anyone? Anyone?)
The rest of the vaccines should still be good for this trip, although I think the typhoid was for 5 years, so I'll have to get a doctor's appointment to look into that. The baby only had his vaccinations two years ago, so he's all good to go too.
So, that's the plan then, getting a doctor's appointment to discuss vaccinations and malaria prophylactics. Next up? Travel Visas!
What about you guys? Do you have any special tips for staying out of the sickbed before or during travel? Besides staying away from the kachori, of course, let's be reasonable people!
I have never gotten sick in Pakistan. Not yet, at least.
There! I said it! Oh God, please don't have me fall ill this time just to stop me from being boastful!
Anyway, I've heard a lot about people going to various countries and getting ill. The other non-Pakistani wife of M's cousin laid in bed for more than a week (I think) during their first trip there. A Pakistani friend, upon visiting last year, was so sick and dehydrated, he was admitted to a hospital for a few days. I'm not sure of all the reasons why people get "travel sick ", but I assume it's mostly from the water, the fruits and vegetables, parasite or bacteria, or just being ill adapted to whatever flora and fauna are hanging out in the third world.
I have always had a very strict policy about water. I read it in some travel book once. Only bottled, and only if you take the cap off yourself and make sure it wasn't glued back on and reused. In fact, my in-laws buy Nestle water by the case and we bring our own bottles to most restaurants with us. In fancier restaurants, they seem to instinctively bring 'the outsider' that kind of sealed bottled water, too. As for fruits and vegetables, I'm sure I'm going overboard, but I don't eat any raw fruits or vegetables while I'm there. I'm thinking this year I may expand into eating those things that have a thick skin that can be washed with soap and water before eating, like melons, bananas and oranges. We'll see how it goes. I always think it's better to be over-careful because really, it's only a few days we're talking about here and who wants to be sick when they have such a short vacation to enjoy? Nobody, that's who. Better to be overcautious and healthy, even if it's unfounded.
Of course, I'm a total hypocrite. Because while I'll steer clear of raw vegetables, I can't help myself when I'm around street food. And which do you think is a more likely culprit of disease? The kachori that dirty, sweaty guy is hunching over in the communal bowl with the room-temperature dipping sauce, or an innocent carrot?
But besides being careful (or not) about what we eat while we're there, the other thing I credit with not falling ill (besides the grace of God!) during my previous trips is all the vaccinations I got before departing. I got SIX vaccines before our first trip. Those six were varicella, hepatitis A & B, typhoid, and boosters of my MMR & DPT. And then I was also prescribed malaria pills to take before, during and after our trip. (My doctor followed the CDC recommendations for travel to Pakistan.)
(Oh, and we also tried to lock ourselves in a large hand-sanitizer covered plastic bubble the whole time we were on the plane. Those darn petri dishes in the sky.)
This time, I'll have to decide if I want to take the malaria drugs. Mosquitos are a problem, even in the city and even during the December cold. But neither time did I remembered to take them as I was supposed to. They're supposed to be taken once a week - the same day of the week - starting the week before travel all the way until four weeks after you get back. I'll get the prescription but who knows if I'll remember. Maybe one of you can be responsible for sending me an email reminder. (Volunteers, anyone? Anyone?)
The rest of the vaccines should still be good for this trip, although I think the typhoid was for 5 years, so I'll have to get a doctor's appointment to look into that. The baby only had his vaccinations two years ago, so he's all good to go too.
Thank goodness, too. It's heartbreaking to give the baby shots. I left his face since it's so distorted already.
So, that's the plan then, getting a doctor's appointment to discuss vaccinations and malaria prophylactics. Next up? Travel Visas!
What about you guys? Do you have any special tips for staying out of the sickbed before or during travel? Besides staying away from the kachori, of course, let's be reasonable people!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Attention, Please
We're going to Pakistan!
That's right, folks, it's the semi-annual Pakistan Trip. And you're invited!
(Assuming you buy your own tickets. And arrange your own lodging. And your own activities.)
Um, I mean that you're invited metaphorically speaking, of course. I'd have a hard time explaining to my in-laws why all these strangers have come with me to stay in our little 10'x10' room otherwise.
We've finalized plans to go to Pakistan to attend the wedding of my brother-in-law. It's all been very rushed and last minute and up in the air. My brother-in-law still hasn't received his US visa yet because of "administrative processing," so nobody was sure if they should just go ahead with the wedding plans in the hopes that it would come in time, or if it would have to be postponed. But he recently found out that you can retrieve your passport back from the embassy (without the visa) for travel purposes. Then, he can take it back to the embassy whenever the visa is cleared. Which is soon, god willing!
So, wedding plans back on! And that means that you special people get to hear all about the preparations of our trip. Oh, it's going to be so exciting! Shopping! Luggage! Vaccinations! You'll be so inspired, I'm sure you'll run right out and get your own tickets for a little jaunt to Pakistan.
But the fun doesn't stop there, either, folks! Both times I've been to Pakistan before, I've always kept my family and friends updated on our trip. The first time, this was to appease my parents who were (understandably) worried about their daughter traveling in Pakistan of all places. The second time, they were still (understandably) worried because that was the summer of the much-anticipated elections Musharraf had finally agreed to hold and things weren't expected to go well. And in fact, they didn't.
The first time, I sent out an almost-daily email with a synopsis of what we'd done that day and few pictures. I really enjoyed doing it because it helped my friends and family not to worry, and it was also a way to show them some of the Pakistani culture I had grown to love. Kind of like this blog, but on a smaller scale for my loved ones. The second time, I had just bought a Macbook, and it came with a free trial of a website building program, so I had a private mac.com website that I also updated almost every day. It was really helpful after Bhutto's assassination because everyone could just check in there to see what was going on.
But this time, I have you all to update too! So, rather than take a hiatus during our trip, I'll actually be liveblogging it. Well, not "live" exactly, because of the time difference and the amount of time it takes to edit pictures and think of witty things to say. Wit doesn't come easily for me, unfortunately. It's a labor of love. But I am very excited because I feel like I'll be taking all of you along on the trip, showing you some of my favorite things, giving you an inside look on what a Pakistani wedding consists of. It's going to be a lot of fun! I hope you'll all enjoy it as much as we will.
So start packing!*
*still metaphorically speaking.
That's right, folks, it's the semi-annual Pakistan Trip. And you're invited!
(Assuming you buy your own tickets. And arrange your own lodging. And your own activities.)
Um, I mean that you're invited metaphorically speaking, of course. I'd have a hard time explaining to my in-laws why all these strangers have come with me to stay in our little 10'x10' room otherwise.
We've finalized plans to go to Pakistan to attend the wedding of my brother-in-law. It's all been very rushed and last minute and up in the air. My brother-in-law still hasn't received his US visa yet because of "administrative processing," so nobody was sure if they should just go ahead with the wedding plans in the hopes that it would come in time, or if it would have to be postponed. But he recently found out that you can retrieve your passport back from the embassy (without the visa) for travel purposes. Then, he can take it back to the embassy whenever the visa is cleared. Which is soon, god willing!
So, wedding plans back on! And that means that you special people get to hear all about the preparations of our trip. Oh, it's going to be so exciting! Shopping! Luggage! Vaccinations! You'll be so inspired, I'm sure you'll run right out and get your own tickets for a little jaunt to Pakistan.
But the fun doesn't stop there, either, folks! Both times I've been to Pakistan before, I've always kept my family and friends updated on our trip. The first time, this was to appease my parents who were (understandably) worried about their daughter traveling in Pakistan of all places. The second time, they were still (understandably) worried because that was the summer of the much-anticipated elections Musharraf had finally agreed to hold and things weren't expected to go well. And in fact, they didn't.
The first time, I sent out an almost-daily email with a synopsis of what we'd done that day and few pictures. I really enjoyed doing it because it helped my friends and family not to worry, and it was also a way to show them some of the Pakistani culture I had grown to love. Kind of like this blog, but on a smaller scale for my loved ones. The second time, I had just bought a Macbook, and it came with a free trial of a website building program, so I had a private mac.com website that I also updated almost every day. It was really helpful after Bhutto's assassination because everyone could just check in there to see what was going on.
But this time, I have you all to update too! So, rather than take a hiatus during our trip, I'll actually be liveblogging it. Well, not "live" exactly, because of the time difference and the amount of time it takes to edit pictures and think of witty things to say. Wit doesn't come easily for me, unfortunately. It's a labor of love. But I am very excited because I feel like I'll be taking all of you along on the trip, showing you some of my favorite things, giving you an inside look on what a Pakistani wedding consists of. It's going to be a lot of fun! I hope you'll all enjoy it as much as we will.
So start packing!*
*still metaphorically speaking.
Watch! This! Space!
Something big is in the works, people! Announcement before tomorrow. Guess what it is and you get a special prize. Bonus points for weird and/or funny guesses. Immediate disqualification for cheating -(for those of you who may already know)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
There Must Be Some Mistake...
Being new to all this "blogging" business, I didn't know about the Brass Crescent Awards until just yesterday. Apparently they are annual awards given to bloggers to honor the best writing on the Muslim web. The list of nominations went up this week and I spent some time on the website today looking through lots of the blogs mentioned. I have found a LOT of new blogs to add to my reader, which is already woefully behind, so we'll see how that goes.
The only concern I have with the Brass Crescent Awards website is that there appears to be a typo on the website. Two of them. Because my little website is mentioned there. Twice. Best New Blog and Best Humor Blog?
Huh? What? How is that possible? I thought they were looking for the BEST writing?! Not my little drivel about how much I love my hubby-wubby and how I can barely communicate with my mother-in-law and looking through my boxes of junk and Gee! Look how much fun I had on my winter vacation!
Well, it seems that my fellow gori wife LuckyFatima nominated me for one of them. (Who wants to confess to the other one?) Now LuckyFatima - THAT is some of the best writing on the internet, and she's also nominated under the Best Female Blog and you should all rush right over to her site to confirm that she is both female (I'm pretty sure) and the best (definitely), and then get thee to the Brass Crescent website to vote for her. (And umm.....anyone else....that you might like.....to vote for?) But I'm warning you, clicking on links and reading some of the other websites listed there may become a time suck. I know I've already spent let's-not-talk-about-how-much-time reading through many of them.
As for being a nominee, well...I just can't imagine. What an honor to be mentioned alongside real writers whom I admire. What an honor to have been nominated. And what an honor to be able to say to my father - who called me "humor impaired" most of my young life - SEE! SOMEONE THINKS I'M FUNNY!
Thank you, thank you all. (Oh wait, I haven't won anything!)
The only concern I have with the Brass Crescent Awards website is that there appears to be a typo on the website. Two of them. Because my little website is mentioned there. Twice. Best New Blog and Best Humor Blog?
Huh? What? How is that possible? I thought they were looking for the BEST writing?! Not my little drivel about how much I love my hubby-wubby and how I can barely communicate with my mother-in-law and looking through my boxes of junk and Gee! Look how much fun I had on my winter vacation!
Well, it seems that my fellow gori wife LuckyFatima nominated me for one of them. (Who wants to confess to the other one?) Now LuckyFatima - THAT is some of the best writing on the internet, and she's also nominated under the Best Female Blog and you should all rush right over to her site to confirm that she is both female (I'm pretty sure) and the best (definitely), and then get thee to the Brass Crescent website to vote for her. (And umm.....anyone else....that you might like.....to vote for?) But I'm warning you, clicking on links and reading some of the other websites listed there may become a time suck. I know I've already spent let's-not-talk-about-how-much-time reading through many of them.
As for being a nominee, well...I just can't imagine. What an honor to be mentioned alongside real writers whom I admire. What an honor to have been nominated. And what an honor to be able to say to my father - who called me "humor impaired" most of my young life - SEE! SOMEONE THINKS I'M FUNNY!
Thank you, thank you all. (Oh wait, I haven't won anything!)
Monday, November 16, 2009
Pakistan Come To Us (Partly)
Before I had amassed any knowledge about Pakistan and its culture, and before I traveled to Pakistan myself, I got to see a teeny, tiny glimpse of what it might be like. And I got to see what M was like in that situation too, while we were on a trip to Toronto.
We'd gone to Toronto for his work, and he'd spent most of the weekdays while we were there doing boring scholarly stuff at the University of Toronto while I explored the streets by myself. We did the usual stuff in the evenings; standing on the glass floor in the CN tower, eating at the fabulous restaurants, getting looted by a rickshaw guy - you know, the usual tourist stuff.
On our agenda for the weekend, after all that boring academia, (kidding!) having spent most of the week in Toronto, was to go to Niagara Falls. But on our way out of town we had one more scheduled stop. Gerrard Street .
Gerrard Street is this part of Toronto that is full of Indian and Pakistani business - sometimes called "Little India" or "Little Pakistan." Every kind of shop or restaurant, and brimming with Indians and Pakistanis and other South Asians. I had known about the area before we went to Toronto, and we'd both been looking forward to that part of our trip in particular. It was my first time to that kind of area, although we've since been to others .
First we did a little shopping. We browsed through the clothing stores and I marveled at the beautiful fabrics and intricate beading. I most liked to look at the wedding outfits because until then I'd only ever seen one desi wedding outfit - my own . We also found some bangles, although mostly all I could find were metal ones. I only ever found one set of glass ones, which I bought and still have. There are still the nicest glass bangles I've ever seen. We also got some terrible service at a convenience store and I bought my first-ever, totally crappy, didn't work even for a second Pakistani-brand AA batteries and was then told "No returns!" And this from the so-called "Friendly Super Mkt."
We also ate. We ate at the Lahori restaurant in the picture above, but I can't remember what we ate and alas, there is no picture of our dinner in my old files. But I remember what we had for dessert. Mangoes. Mangoes. Then a few mangoes. And then we topped that off with a little bit of mango.
M hadn't eaten a Pakistani mango in years because there was (is?) and embargo against Pakistani mangos and they weren't (aren't?) sold in America. But not so in Canada. M seemed powerless over the stacks of Pakistani mangoes and he bought a full box. But you can't bring fruit into America, so that meant we had to eat an entire box of mangoes. Like 15, maybe? Between the two of us. And we only had a day and a half to do it.
It took me a long time to want to eat mangoes after that. Perhaps I should have just tried to smuggle the darn fruit back into America.
It was nice to see M so happy to see part of Pakistan. When we first got there and were wandering around, M looked up and did a double-take at the street signs in Urdu The look on his face...
Well, I'm glad I was there to see it, and to take a picture of it.
***EDITED***
My Mian, who is in another time zone and apparently catching up on the 'ol bloggity blog, just emailed me this:
- There is a rickshaw (real one from Pakistan) outside a restaurant there. We may have a picture of it.
- We had paratha for sure at the restaurant but I am not sure what we ate otherwise.
- We also had bhutta cooked on coal by some desi aunti who spoke only Punjabi and paying money was difficult (I first thought she had issues with numbers but I was doing the math incorrectly)
- Both you and I had pimples after eating mangoes (you dont have to include this)
So there you go, M chimes in.
We'd gone to Toronto for his work, and he'd spent most of the weekdays while we were there doing boring scholarly stuff at the University of Toronto while I explored the streets by myself. We did the usual stuff in the evenings; standing on the glass floor in the CN tower, eating at the fabulous restaurants, getting looted by a rickshaw guy - you know, the usual tourist stuff.
Running away with our money. "Yeah, I meant 10 dollars per person."
On our agenda for the weekend, after all that boring academia, (kidding!) having spent most of the week in Toronto, was to go to Niagara Falls. But on our way out of town we had one more scheduled stop. Gerrard Street .
Gerrard Street is this part of Toronto that is full of Indian and Pakistani business - sometimes called "Little India" or "Little Pakistan." Every kind of shop or restaurant, and brimming with Indians and Pakistanis and other South Asians. I had known about the area before we went to Toronto, and we'd both been looking forward to that part of our trip in particular. It was my first time to that kind of area, although we've since been to others .
First we did a little shopping. We browsed through the clothing stores and I marveled at the beautiful fabrics and intricate beading. I most liked to look at the wedding outfits because until then I'd only ever seen one desi wedding outfit - my own . We also found some bangles, although mostly all I could find were metal ones. I only ever found one set of glass ones, which I bought and still have. There are still the nicest glass bangles I've ever seen. We also got some terrible service at a convenience store and I bought my first-ever, totally crappy, didn't work even for a second Pakistani-brand AA batteries and was then told "No returns!" And this from the so-called "Friendly Super Mkt."
We also ate. We ate at the Lahori restaurant in the picture above, but I can't remember what we ate and alas, there is no picture of our dinner in my old files. But I remember what we had for dessert. Mangoes. Mangoes. Then a few mangoes. And then we topped that off with a little bit of mango.
M hadn't eaten a Pakistani mango in years because there was (is?) and embargo against Pakistani mangos and they weren't (aren't?) sold in America. But not so in Canada. M seemed powerless over the stacks of Pakistani mangoes and he bought a full box. But you can't bring fruit into America, so that meant we had to eat an entire box of mangoes. Like 15, maybe? Between the two of us. And we only had a day and a half to do it.
It took me a long time to want to eat mangoes after that. Perhaps I should have just tried to smuggle the darn fruit back into America.
It was nice to see M so happy to see part of Pakistan. When we first got there and were wandering around, M looked up and did a double-take at the street signs in Urdu The look on his face...
Well, I'm glad I was there to see it, and to take a picture of it.
***EDITED***
My Mian, who is in another time zone and apparently catching up on the 'ol bloggity blog, just emailed me this:
| from | Mian | ||
| to | Begum | ||
| date |  Tue, Nov 17, 2009 at 12:35 AM | ||
| subject | notes for your new post | ||
- There is a rickshaw (real one from Pakistan) outside a restaurant there. We may have a picture of it.
- We had paratha for sure at the restaurant but I am not sure what we ate otherwise.
- We also had bhutta cooked on coal by some desi aunti who spoke only Punjabi and paying money was difficult (I first thought she had issues with numbers but I was doing the math incorrectly)
- Both you and I had pimples after eating mangoes (you dont have to include this)
So there you go, M chimes in.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Who Does The Baby Look Like?
I don't generalize about Pakistanis or desis or anyone for that matter. I mean, I try not to, and I'd like to think that in my head I don't. Sometimes you say something like "Oh yeah, Pakistanis do that too..." and then you think to yourself later, "Oh man, I should have said that SOME Pakistanis do that or that the a lot of the Pakistanis I personally know do that..." because ALL is a very strong and mostly incorrect word.
Anyway, I'm not saying that ALL Pakistanis do this, or that all desis do this, but a lot of the Pakistanis and desis I've met like to have a little discussion about who the baby looks like.
But it's not even about really discussing or actually trying to discern which parent the baby looks most like. It's more like it's a BATTLE, and they have to PROVE that the baby looks more like M. Like desis (the ones I've met who did this, not ALL desis) have a personal stake in proving that a baby that is the product of a half-desi union will look more like the desi parent. Whether that's reality or not.
I'm not saying that my son is identical to me; he's not. But he does have a lot of my features and his skin color is closer to mine than M's (albeit only a little, he is very close to the middle on this.) There are certain things about the baby (hair, nose, fingernails) that are definitely straight from me, and then there are things about him (eyes, chin, facial hair (at 3!)) that are clearly inherited from his father. He's a mix. Of course he is.
But whenever we visit M's family, everyone goes on and on and ON about how the baby looks just like M, or looks just like M did when he was a baby. I have even, on occasion, broken out my own baby pictures and pictures of my son when he was a newborn to show them that we looked the same. And even in front of actual photographic evidence in their own hands, they will say "Oh no no no, you should have seen M when he was a baby. Your son is an exact copy of him!" And then I will stare at the pictures in my hands, as they think back on their 30-year old faded memories, and one day, maybe, I will realize that this battle can never be won.
Anyway, I'm not saying that ALL Pakistanis do this, or that all desis do this, but a lot of the Pakistanis and desis I've met like to have a little discussion about who the baby looks like.
But it's not even about really discussing or actually trying to discern which parent the baby looks most like. It's more like it's a BATTLE, and they have to PROVE that the baby looks more like M. Like desis (the ones I've met who did this, not ALL desis) have a personal stake in proving that a baby that is the product of a half-desi union will look more like the desi parent. Whether that's reality or not.
I'm not saying that my son is identical to me; he's not. But he does have a lot of my features and his skin color is closer to mine than M's (albeit only a little, he is very close to the middle on this.) There are certain things about the baby (hair, nose, fingernails) that are definitely straight from me, and then there are things about him (eyes, chin, facial hair (at 3!)) that are clearly inherited from his father. He's a mix. Of course he is.
But whenever we visit M's family, everyone goes on and on and ON about how the baby looks just like M, or looks just like M did when he was a baby. I have even, on occasion, broken out my own baby pictures and pictures of my son when he was a newborn to show them that we looked the same. And even in front of actual photographic evidence in their own hands, they will say "Oh no no no, you should have seen M when he was a baby. Your son is an exact copy of him!" And then I will stare at the pictures in my hands, as they think back on their 30-year old faded memories, and one day, maybe, I will realize that this battle can never be won.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Picturing M
M said I could post a full-face picture of him. I already picked it. It's very scandalous. He's not wearing a shirt. Actually, he's not even wearing pants. Are you sure you want to see it? Really sure? All right! It's waiting for you below the link.
Buying a Washing Machine
Both times we've visited my in-law's home in Karachi, M has done some major work on the house. He was always the one responsible for big home maintenance projects. Don't get me wrong, Abbu - my father-in-law - keeps up with the daily stuff. But M did all the wiring and installed fixtures and all that stuff. On our most recent trip, he installed a new water pump and bought and installed a new kitchen sink that would then require new plumbing. The first time we went, though, it was all about replacing Ammi's old washing machine.
Ammi had a really old washing machine that used to sit in the small open-air veranda in front of the house. It had two compartments, the first to wash the clothes, and the second to spin them around to wring out most of the water so they could be line-dried. It wasn't very good at getting clothes clean anymore, the spinning part had recently begun to malfunction, and it was really old and a pain in the butt to use, so M wanted to replace it with a new one that would do everything in one with minimal work for Ammi, my mother-in-law.
Installing the new washing machine would prove to be interesting. The new washing machine was to be indoors rather than outside, since it was so nice and new and all. But the only place where there was room to put a washing machine was in the kitchen. The kitchen is often damp and wet, and M didn't want the new machine to be exposed to that so he decided it should be installed on a raised platform with a wall between it and the rest of the kitchen. And we were going to build the wall ourselves. (It was actually a lot of fun, and I got to help out.)
What was even more interesting about the whole thing was buying the washing machine. Shopping for it had been quite the experience. M and I had taken his youngest brother with us, and we'd all dressed in our poorest-looking clothes so we'd get a better deal (It totally works, trust me.) I wore a full-covering burka. If M had walked in with an obvious foreigner, we'd have been looted, and we're talking about an expensive home appliance, so double the price would have been a real blow to the wallet. So it was best if I blended in - or out, I guess - as much as possible.
First, we went to various stores to get a feel for a price, and then we started really shopping. M has this whole shopping thing he's perfected. His whole demeanor changes and even his accent. I don't know exactly how he does it, but I know he tries to act uneducated and poor so that the shopkeeper will give him a reasonable price. Eventually, of course, because the first offer in the bargaining negotiations is always unreasonable, no matter what you look or sound like.
In this situation, though, I guess M's act had worked too well and the shopkeeper had decided that M really was an idiot. The conversation was going too quickly for me to catch it at the time, but M and his brother later told me that the shopkeeper was trying to sell them a "especial" washing machine. So special, in fact, that you didn't ever need to use laundry detergent. He pointed to a thing inside the washing machine and told M that it was a laser that cleaned clothes without detergent.
It was, in fact, a lint trap.
M didn't break character, though, and even used that to his advantage. When the price offers got so low that the shopkeeper suggested M just buy a cheaper washing machine, M insisted that he wanted the one with the "state of the art technology." Apparently once you know about laser-cleaned clothes, you can't go back. Eventually, M got the guy down to whatever price he was willing to pay, and we walked out of the shop the proud owners of a no-detergent (maybe magic?) washing machine.
After all that excitement, I thought we were done. But no! The MOST amazing part was yet to come - the delivery. The store did not arrange delivery and instead, M was expected to go outside and find his own delivery guy. There were all these guys waiting around outside for the job too. Apparently there are guys who own or drive mini-trucks just for the purpose of sitting outside appliance and furniture shops and getting this kind of work. So M found a guy, haggled over the price of the delivery, and then we left to go home and await our washing machine.
He arrived not long after we did. I had gone to change my clothes and I wasn't really interested in the show after all the day's excitement. But my brother-in-law came to find me and told me to come quick - bring the camera. (Everyone knows I like to take a lot of pictures.) So I did, and I found the delivery guy bringing the washing machine in off of his truck, by himself, on his back.
The only picture I could find that has the old washing machine in it.
Ammi had a really old washing machine that used to sit in the small open-air veranda in front of the house. It had two compartments, the first to wash the clothes, and the second to spin them around to wring out most of the water so they could be line-dried. It wasn't very good at getting clothes clean anymore, the spinning part had recently begun to malfunction, and it was really old and a pain in the butt to use, so M wanted to replace it with a new one that would do everything in one with minimal work for Ammi, my mother-in-law.
Installing the new washing machine would prove to be interesting. The new washing machine was to be indoors rather than outside, since it was so nice and new and all. But the only place where there was room to put a washing machine was in the kitchen. The kitchen is often damp and wet, and M didn't want the new machine to be exposed to that so he decided it should be installed on a raised platform with a wall between it and the rest of the kitchen. And we were going to build the wall ourselves. (It was actually a lot of fun, and I got to help out.)
Laying the stones for the washing machine's foundation.
The Helpful Wife Life
What was even more interesting about the whole thing was buying the washing machine. Shopping for it had been quite the experience. M and I had taken his youngest brother with us, and we'd all dressed in our poorest-looking clothes so we'd get a better deal (It totally works, trust me.) I wore a full-covering burka. If M had walked in with an obvious foreigner, we'd have been looted, and we're talking about an expensive home appliance, so double the price would have been a real blow to the wallet. So it was best if I blended in - or out, I guess - as much as possible.
M and his brother, trying to look like they can't afford a washing machine. (With said machine)
First, we went to various stores to get a feel for a price, and then we started really shopping. M has this whole shopping thing he's perfected. His whole demeanor changes and even his accent. I don't know exactly how he does it, but I know he tries to act uneducated and poor so that the shopkeeper will give him a reasonable price. Eventually, of course, because the first offer in the bargaining negotiations is always unreasonable, no matter what you look or sound like.
In this situation, though, I guess M's act had worked too well and the shopkeeper had decided that M really was an idiot. The conversation was going too quickly for me to catch it at the time, but M and his brother later told me that the shopkeeper was trying to sell them a "especial" washing machine. So special, in fact, that you didn't ever need to use laundry detergent. He pointed to a thing inside the washing machine and told M that it was a laser that cleaned clothes without detergent.
It was, in fact, a lint trap.
M didn't break character, though, and even used that to his advantage. When the price offers got so low that the shopkeeper suggested M just buy a cheaper washing machine, M insisted that he wanted the one with the "state of the art technology." Apparently once you know about laser-cleaned clothes, you can't go back. Eventually, M got the guy down to whatever price he was willing to pay, and we walked out of the shop the proud owners of a no-detergent (maybe magic?) washing machine.
M, pointing to the lint trap.
After all that excitement, I thought we were done. But no! The MOST amazing part was yet to come - the delivery. The store did not arrange delivery and instead, M was expected to go outside and find his own delivery guy. There were all these guys waiting around outside for the job too. Apparently there are guys who own or drive mini-trucks just for the purpose of sitting outside appliance and furniture shops and getting this kind of work. So M found a guy, haggled over the price of the delivery, and then we left to go home and await our washing machine.
Delivery truck arrives outside of M's family home.
He arrived not long after we did. I had gone to change my clothes and I wasn't really interested in the show after all the day's excitement. But my brother-in-law came to find me and told me to come quick - bring the camera. (Everyone knows I like to take a lot of pictures.) So I did, and I found the delivery guy bringing the washing machine in off of his truck, by himself, on his back.
Everyone stands back to marvel at the new washing machine - and the wall I (we) built!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Wasted Time
When we were planning our wedding, we decided we wanted to have two different ceremonies. The first would be a traditional, white-dress American style wedding , and the second would be a traditional, red-dress Pakistani Nikah in a mosque. At the time, it was really important to me that both ceremonies took place on the same day so that we wouldn't celebrate two different wedding anniversaries for the rest of our lives.
But this isn't about my wedding preparations. That's another story for another day. This is about a woman who helped me out. A woman who offered to do my bridal henna as well as henna for my bridesmaids. You see, because the American wedding was going to be in the late morning, and the Pakistani wedding was going to be in the evening, I decided that I didn't want my hands to be mehndi-fied in the white-wedding-dress pictures, but I DID want them mehndi-fied for the Pakistani wedding pictures. Luckily, this woman - a wife of a friend of M's - was willing to do my mehndi for me in between the wedding functions.
I knew this woman already. Probably better than any of the other women in M's extended circle of friends (not that there were very many women.) I had known her husband before they had married, and I had been invited to their very first post-nuptial dinner party and many others. In fact, the dinner party that I wrote about in an old post was at their house, too. One of my favorite memories is shopping at a Wal-mart with M, running into them, and being invited back (insistently) for improptu tea. This woman and I weren't best friends or anything, but I felt pretty comfortable around her.
Two days before my wedding, my two best friends and I drove an hour to her apartment in the middle of a weekday so that she could do henna for my friend. It took more than two hours for her to do just the hands of one of my friends, and as we sat there in her tiny living room, I realized something;
I had wasted so much time.
Here's what we talked about that afternoon: This woman and her husband had known each other in college in Pakistan. When he'd left for America for his studies, she had fought against her family to go too. Against her parents wishes, she'd come to America - alone - for graduate school. The school that admitted her was thousands of miles away from his, but she came anyway. She lived alone, attending a school with very, very few international students and almost no Pakistanis. When his parents refused to allow them to marry, she persisted. When they arranged an engagement to someone else, she and he found some way to stop it. When she lost her graduate funding, she slept on someone's couch and worked at Taco Bell. She'd even broken her arm, walked to the hospital, checked herself in, and then skipped out on the bill because she was so broke. They fought and fought with their parents - they arranged THREE engagements for him. With the last one, the guy had even flown back to Pakistan for his impending wedding date, only for things to miraculously fall through on the wedding day because of some family argument about dowry. This woman had stayed in America the whole time, knowing that the man she wanted to marry was likely marrying someone else. She found a new school and a new professor and new funding, and finished her graduate degree. When he came back, they married in secret and fought some more. His parents would finally consent to the marriage a year later.
You see, because my friends were there, the conversation had been much more basic than I'd had previously with this woman. Instead of assuming we all already knew about each other, my friends asked her all sorts of questions that opened doors to all sorts of other conversations. In truth, I thought I already knew this woman, I'd already made judgements about her, and I certainly knew that we had little, if anything, in common. I thought I knew what a "typical" Pakistani bride was like, most often brought back from Pakistan, and I hadn't really bothered to get to know this woman at all. In reality, she'd led a much more interesting life than I had.. When I had interacted with her in the past, if I had approach her with an open mind, perhaps I would have learned all this much sooner. Perhaps by wasting so much time, I foreclosed an opportunity to form a true friendship with one of the most interesting women I would ever meet. (Because sadly, we would all move very far away from each other shortly.)
Over time, I've realized that I've wasted time in many situations by not being open-minded enough to just experience the interesting situations I'm often in. Now, I try to come to things - and people - with an open mind. I've met people and done things and been places and I KNOW that I've approached these things differently since seeing the truth with my bridal mehndi artist.
I try not to waste time now, I try to remember that there's plenty I don't know and that if I drop my pre-conceived notions and truly engage in these situations, I can get so much more out of them.
But this isn't about my wedding preparations. That's another story for another day. This is about a woman who helped me out. A woman who offered to do my bridal henna as well as henna for my bridesmaids. You see, because the American wedding was going to be in the late morning, and the Pakistani wedding was going to be in the evening, I decided that I didn't want my hands to be mehndi-fied in the white-wedding-dress pictures, but I DID want them mehndi-fied for the Pakistani wedding pictures. Luckily, this woman - a wife of a friend of M's - was willing to do my mehndi for me in between the wedding functions.
I knew this woman already. Probably better than any of the other women in M's extended circle of friends (not that there were very many women.) I had known her husband before they had married, and I had been invited to their very first post-nuptial dinner party and many others. In fact, the dinner party that I wrote about in an old post was at their house, too. One of my favorite memories is shopping at a Wal-mart with M, running into them, and being invited back (insistently) for improptu tea. This woman and I weren't best friends or anything, but I felt pretty comfortable around her.
Two days before my wedding, my two best friends and I drove an hour to her apartment in the middle of a weekday so that she could do henna for my friend. It took more than two hours for her to do just the hands of one of my friends, and as we sat there in her tiny living room, I realized something;
I had wasted so much time.
Here's what we talked about that afternoon: This woman and her husband had known each other in college in Pakistan. When he'd left for America for his studies, she had fought against her family to go too. Against her parents wishes, she'd come to America - alone - for graduate school. The school that admitted her was thousands of miles away from his, but she came anyway. She lived alone, attending a school with very, very few international students and almost no Pakistanis. When his parents refused to allow them to marry, she persisted. When they arranged an engagement to someone else, she and he found some way to stop it. When she lost her graduate funding, she slept on someone's couch and worked at Taco Bell. She'd even broken her arm, walked to the hospital, checked herself in, and then skipped out on the bill because she was so broke. They fought and fought with their parents - they arranged THREE engagements for him. With the last one, the guy had even flown back to Pakistan for his impending wedding date, only for things to miraculously fall through on the wedding day because of some family argument about dowry. This woman had stayed in America the whole time, knowing that the man she wanted to marry was likely marrying someone else. She found a new school and a new professor and new funding, and finished her graduate degree. When he came back, they married in secret and fought some more. His parents would finally consent to the marriage a year later.
You see, because my friends were there, the conversation had been much more basic than I'd had previously with this woman. Instead of assuming we all already knew about each other, my friends asked her all sorts of questions that opened doors to all sorts of other conversations. In truth, I thought I already knew this woman, I'd already made judgements about her, and I certainly knew that we had little, if anything, in common. I thought I knew what a "typical" Pakistani bride was like, most often brought back from Pakistan, and I hadn't really bothered to get to know this woman at all. In reality, she'd led a much more interesting life than I had.. When I had interacted with her in the past, if I had approach her with an open mind, perhaps I would have learned all this much sooner. Perhaps by wasting so much time, I foreclosed an opportunity to form a true friendship with one of the most interesting women I would ever meet. (Because sadly, we would all move very far away from each other shortly.)
Over time, I've realized that I've wasted time in many situations by not being open-minded enough to just experience the interesting situations I'm often in. Now, I try to come to things - and people - with an open mind. I've met people and done things and been places and I KNOW that I've approached these things differently since seeing the truth with my bridal mehndi artist.
I try not to waste time now, I try to remember that there's plenty I don't know and that if I drop my pre-conceived notions and truly engage in these situations, I can get so much more out of them.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Frozen
I got an email question today and I thought HEY! I can slap that on my bloggity blog and get out of having to actually think of something myself! So you're in for a treat this weekend, y'all! My text editor is going to be so red it'll look like a murder scene up in here. (*definitions for all the Urdu words are buried all the way at the bottom, after the jump.) On to the topic at hand!
Salaam Gori Wife :)
I was wondering, you mentioned a couple of times on your blog that your MIL cooks a bunch of food for you and then freezes it. I'm going to visit my brother in 2 weeks and wanted to do the same for him. What kind of stuff does she cook for you? How about vegetables? Do different kinds of daal freeze well? Also how exactly does she freeze the stuff? Does she use proper containers or Ziploc bags? Any advice would be helpful...
Thanks so much,
Faiqa
Anyone else have any advice to give regarding cooking, storing and especially freezing desi food? Is there something grosser than frozen potato that I'm forgetting about?
Salaam Gori Wife :)
I was wondering, you mentioned a couple of times on your blog that your MIL cooks a bunch of food for you and then freezes it. I'm going to visit my brother in 2 weeks and wanted to do the same for him. What kind of stuff does she cook for you? How about vegetables? Do different kinds of daal freeze well? Also how exactly does she freeze the stuff? Does she use proper containers or Ziploc bags? Any advice would be helpful...
Thanks so much,
Faiqa
Can I just bask in the glory of having the great Faiqa ask ME a question?
I'm going to need a minute.
(....)
Okay.
So, my MIL cooks everything for us when she's here and almost all Pakistani food freezes really well. The only vegetables I can think of that don't freeze well are things like potatoes & shaljam, maybe predominantly starchy things? Potatoes come out of the freezer falling apart - really powdery - it screws up the texture entirely. Carrots are a bit like this too, in fact most vegetables will come out a little mushier, but in general bhaji is supposed to be kind of mushy, so the only ones that I think are so bad that I won't do it anymore are potatoes and shaljam.
Also things like dhunya and hari mirch left on top of the food, sometimes we would put some on top and then freeze it, but the leafy stuff doesn't come back out well unless it's already mixed into the dish. We also always make sure to mix in all the lawazmatt - all those things (hari mirch, ginger, dhuniya, lemon, browned onions, etc.) used as toppings on dishes like Nihari, Haleem, Khichri and stuff because getting all that stuff together can be a real pain later and as long as you know the ratio of toppings that the person likes, it doesn't effect the dish to have it frozen in there.
Daals are really good in the freezer, but they get a little smushier. So like, a really gloppy moong/masoor mix will come out almost the same but a Daal Gosht with channa where the channa is supposed to mostly hold its individual shape will come out a bit smushier. (Also, sometimes my MIL will do a second tarka for daal, not because it thaws out blander, but because she says it makes it smell fresher. I never do that, but then again I generally add a lot of tarka in the first place.)
And ground meats are like that too, like shami kabobs and kofta, will get a little smushier after thawing out.. I find that as long as I freeze it cooked (rather than raw kabobs) and I let it thaw out completely before I start messing with it, it makes the reheat better. Trying to fry up raw, thawed out shami kabobs has always ended in heartache for me, so I always cook them first, then freeze them. And I (try to) let most things thaw out completely before reheating. So with Daal Gosht or Kofta, microwaving it and stirring it before it's totally reheated will result in a lot more broken kofta/daal. Although, if you're in a hurry it still tastes as good, though! And the koftas end up broken anyway, right!
Suprisingly, rice also freezes pretty well. Freezing doesn't seem to affect the texture or flavor of the rice, it just seems to affect the size - the rice will break up a little after thawing. We freeze briyanis and pulaos and even plain white rice. Before I had a kid, I make huge pots full of rice and then froze them into single portions or dinner-for-two size portions so that M could just take some out in the morning along with an entree of his choice and I wouldn't have to make his lunch or our dinner at all while we were dealing with the newborn stage.
Another thing that freezes remarkably well is any kind of naan/roti/paratha, so whenever I make daal ki roti or aloo ki roti (the aloo is mashed so the consistency thing doesn't matter so much) I always layer them on a large plate with a piece of parchment paper or plastic wrap in between, then stick the plate in the freezer for a couple of hours. I've always frozen them raw, but when my MIL was here this time, she halfway-cooked them first and that seemed a lot easier. When it's frozen, I just pop the whole stack into a big ziploc bag and then over the course of several months, I can use the paper layers to just peel off one or two as needed rather than have to go through the whole hassle of making such a difficult dish again. Otherwise we'd probably never eat daal ki roti or paratha.
My MIL always just uses ziploc bags, but be careful to fold the edges down, like how you would fold down the edges of a garbage bag when you put it in the can (<------ sorry if that's not very explanatory) so that as you're putting the salaan in the bag the zip part of the bag doesn't get all messed up. Also, we always make a place in the freezer where the bag can lay completely flat as it freezes so it doesn't turn into some unwieldily thing that takes up all your freezer space. When we're really stocking up the freezer with lots of ziploc bags, we just keep laying them on to of each other so they freeze (relatively) flatly, and then when you just have only a few left you can even store them vertically. We do always use the freezer variety of bags, in both quart and gallon sizes.
Friday, November 6, 2009
More Pictures of Lahore.
Googling for pictures to fill in the gaps of my old Lahore pictures yesterday, I found a British journalist Max Robinson who has some really stunning pictures of all the places I was talking about. If you'd like to see some more picture of Lahore, professional and stunningly beautiful ones - you should check out them out here and scroll down to click on the "Around Pakistan" sets.
A Visit to Lahore.
(This one's a long one, folks! I've broken it in half so that it doesn't seem to go on and on forever, and so that anyone who's not interested won't have to scroll forever just to get past it.)
When planning our first trip to Pakistan, about a year after we were married, we decided we would do a little traipsing around the country while we were there. I had, after all, spent the last two years reading everything I could about Pakistan. So I had gotten a little curious about all the places and things I had come across. Retrospectively, it was a fantastic idea to do that pre-kids and while we could reasonably call ourselves newlyweds. Now if we were to plan that kind of trip, family members might be offended that we'd rather travel alone than visit with them, and taking a kid with us would have been much more difficult. Our trip was a four night, five day jaunt through Lahore and Islamabad/Rawalpindi in January of 2005. First stop was Lahore.
We were met at the airport by an old friend of M's that I had never met before. He had gone to graduate school with M here in America, and had graduated (and moved back to Pakistan) just one week before M and I met. He'd lived in Lahore since then and had married and had a son. He's a professor at a university there, and when M called him up to say we'd be in Lahore, would he be available to hang out, he had insisted we stay with him and his family. So that's how I ended up sleeping on a Lahori school's campus for two nights.
The Professor and his wife were perhaps the most amazing hosts I have ever met in my life. Every need, want or comfort had already been thought of and provided for us. They planned our entire two day stay and included some of the most fantastic outings. Meals were extraordinary, they never let us pay, and on the first day I realized I would have to stop saying how much I liked things because they just kept buying everything I talked about and gifting it to me, refusing repayment. Books, toys, trinkets, bangles - if I said it was nice, they would find some way to get one and give it to me. Seriously, just thinking about it makes me want to send them a Thank You note five years later.
So what did we do while in Lahore? A lot! And I have old pictures to prove it, but it's a long pic-filled post, so you'll have to read more after the jump.
When planning our first trip to Pakistan, about a year after we were married, we decided we would do a little traipsing around the country while we were there. I had, after all, spent the last two years reading everything I could about Pakistan. So I had gotten a little curious about all the places and things I had come across. Retrospectively, it was a fantastic idea to do that pre-kids and while we could reasonably call ourselves newlyweds. Now if we were to plan that kind of trip, family members might be offended that we'd rather travel alone than visit with them, and taking a kid with us would have been much more difficult. Our trip was a four night, five day jaunt through Lahore and Islamabad/Rawalpindi in January of 2005. First stop was Lahore.
We were met at the airport by an old friend of M's that I had never met before. He had gone to graduate school with M here in America, and had graduated (and moved back to Pakistan) just one week before M and I met. He'd lived in Lahore since then and had married and had a son. He's a professor at a university there, and when M called him up to say we'd be in Lahore, would he be available to hang out, he had insisted we stay with him and his family. So that's how I ended up sleeping on a Lahori school's campus for two nights.
The Professor and his wife were perhaps the most amazing hosts I have ever met in my life. Every need, want or comfort had already been thought of and provided for us. They planned our entire two day stay and included some of the most fantastic outings. Meals were extraordinary, they never let us pay, and on the first day I realized I would have to stop saying how much I liked things because they just kept buying everything I talked about and gifting it to me, refusing repayment. Books, toys, trinkets, bangles - if I said it was nice, they would find some way to get one and give it to me. Seriously, just thinking about it makes me want to send them a Thank You note five years later.
So what did we do while in Lahore? A lot! And I have old pictures to prove it, but it's a long pic-filled post, so you'll have to read more after the jump.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Have You Seen Lahore?
"Jinhe Lahore nahin vekhya, oh jamaya nahin."
There's a saying about Lahore. I've heard it translated two way - "A life without seeing Lahore is not a life" and "One who has not seen Lahore has not been born." I don't know if either or both or none of them are correct, and I was certainly born before I saw Lahore. But it was, and still is, the favorite place I have ever seen in Pakistan, and I hope to see it again some day. For now, though, I think I'll go dig through my old pictures and work on a post about how much I enjoyed Lahore...
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Living Apart
As I mention in yesterday's post, my husband and I lived apart for the first six months after we were married. But why get married if you can't live together?
For us, the whole engagement thing kind of came out of the blue. Neither one of us had been thinking about marriage, and we'd certainly never talked about it before. When M decided to take the plunge, his parents were only a few short weeks from their visit to America to see their son graduate. They'd planned the trip at length and already had their US visit visas in hand before he'd even popped the question, and when he did ask me to marry him, he did it by saying he wanted to get married when his parents were visiting.
So really, even before I'd said yes, the wedding date had been set. Or the date range at least. And it wasn't like I was going to drop out of school only one semester away from graduating just to go live the married life. There was no other choice, really, than to get married NOW even though we couldn't be together until later.
I remember that at the time it felt very unnatural. To be a newlywed, to want to talk about wedding details and mention how you'd only gotten married a few months prior - but then to live a thousand miles away from your new husband! I did visit M almost every single weekend after we were married, so it wasn't all sadness and separation. And of course time heals all wounds, so I only remember that time fondly. I have read a theory that having to live apart can actually prolong the infatuation stage that wears out so quickly, so it may have in the long run helped prolong that newlywed stage for us (and that can only be a good things, right!)
Although there was one negative thing about it; we had to postpone our immigration stuff. M was a student in the US on an F-1 visa when I'd met him, and a few months before he'd graduated he had switch to a year of OPT ("Optional Practical Training") in order to work and stay in the US for a year even though he was no longer a student. He only had a year to change his status to something else or he wouldn't have any work authorization and he'd have to leave the US. His work would have sponsored him on an H-1 visa, but it was supposedly much faster and cheaper to pursue changing his status through his marriage with a citizen. (I am no specialist in immigration law, and this was all a few years ago, so please forgive and inaccuracies...) But because we had all his OPT time left, we thought it would be better to wait until we were living together to file out various paperwork. I just kept imagining two different addresses in our papers would raise plenty of red flags, and since we were only talking six months, it seemed like a better idea to wait and really *look* like a married couple on paper before trying to convince the US government of it.
Perhaps if we hadn't waiting so long, we wouldn't have run into as many problems during our (ongoing, unfortunately) immigration process. But that's a story for another day...
The Freezer Fill of Aught Four
Ammi, not wanting to see her son have to live a solitary life (even though he'd been doing just that for more than 4 years by then) decided that at the least she could make sure he would eat well. So she cooked and cooked (and had the recipes written down for me) and in the last week or so of their visit, she completely filled up M's freezer with various home-cooked meals that M would spend the next six months going through.
By the time I moved into the apartment six months later, there were only 2 things left in there.
Chef and Recipe Transcriber
Sunday, November 1, 2009
History & Cheeseburgers
Just a regular old cheeseburger, sitting in its paper wrapper...
Today was the last day of my parent's week long visit. They come every year for my son's birthday and my mother, who is a cake decorator, makes a big fancy cake. We had a whole lot of other things planned, touristy things, but we were all tired from all the cake work and all screwed up from daylight savings time.
One of the things we were going to see but nixed was the Holocaust Museum, we even watched a couple of movies on that theme as well, and I remembered something interesting about M. In many ways, he learned a LOT more in school that I did. Math, Science, even English grammar - but in history it's s different picture. His history books didn't even mention WWII or the Holocaust at all. Not at all. And he went to VERY GOOD schools. And he says that the syllabus is the same for all schools in the Karachi division.
Well, at least the cake was good. My mom made a huge cheeseburger, french fries and a drink - and it was all made out of cake!
In case you thought I was lying about it being cake.
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