It’s been eight years, which is far too long. Eight years since I’ve been back to Pakistan. Eight years since I’ve visited my extended family. It’s funny though, because even that term – extended family – has no meaning for the people of that region. There is no such thing as “extended” because you’re always just “family”. So to have been away for eight years is entirely too long, but I’m headed home now.
A work conference in Turkey provided the best excuse possible to take some vacation and book a four hour onward flight to Pakistan. So here I am, on the plane, about to land in Karachi. I’ve barely slept in the last week because of work and travel, but I’m still strangely alert and excited, even by the small stuff. Such as the all-Urdu chatter in the plane, reminding me of a language that I barely speak now. Or the uniquely desi (but inexplicable) need for my fellow passengers to immediately open the overhead bins the moment the plane lands, despite the seat belt sign or the fact that we have to continue taxiing for another 15 minutes. Or the uniquely desi aversion to deodorant, a fact that I am reminded of as my eyes tear up and my nose hairs begin to singe once the pilot turns off the air conditioning. But then the plane doors open and the line starts inching slowly forward, and all is forgotten.
Because I’m home.
A work conference in Turkey provided the best excuse possible to take some vacation and book a four hour onward flight to Pakistan. So here I am, on the plane, about to land in Karachi. I’ve barely slept in the last week because of work and travel, but I’m still strangely alert and excited, even by the small stuff. Such as the all-Urdu chatter in the plane, reminding me of a language that I barely speak now. Or the uniquely desi (but inexplicable) need for my fellow passengers to immediately open the overhead bins the moment the plane lands, despite the seat belt sign or the fact that we have to continue taxiing for another 15 minutes. Or the uniquely desi aversion to deodorant, a fact that I am reminded of as my eyes tear up and my nose hairs begin to singe once the pilot turns off the air conditioning. But then the plane doors open and the line starts inching slowly forward, and all is forgotten.
Because I’m home.
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