Boulevard of Broken Dreams- A Travelogue

Hi All,

I am going to write about my recent trip abroad in the form of a Travelogue under the caption "BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS". Watch this space as I ink down the digital white board with my memories.

This trip was long due as I had plans from January 2008 to go abroad and have some time off from Bomb Blastistaan, and have some time for myself away from the memories of my hypothyroid MPH students, whose T3 and T4 levels have been going down constantly during the last few months, and if Davidson allows me, MPH students at abasyn should be included as a major risk factor for hypertension.

Anyway, in late July, me and my wife applied for Visa and within the next 7 days we were called to collect our passports and we got our visas. As I was thinking and thinking hard about when to leave, doing my maths, and trying to find the cheapest fares around, I was called by my Travel Agent, one sunny, humid and load shedded afternoon, that we had to leave in the next 4 days, as he had found out a seat for us in Qatar Airways flight, but it was going to take us via Doha and Beirut and there was some stay in between. That was another added delight, as there was an oppurtunity to roam around in Beirut and enjoy some Arab evenings, sipping on traditional bitter Arab Qehwa at any hard rock cafe in Lebanon.

It was also a bolt from the blue as I had to arrange for my leave on war footings and did some packing a la military style and off, we were ready for some rock and roll on foreign grass.

Soon got my tickets and my flight to Doha, Qatar from Peshawar was at 4.30 early in the morning. That day I couldnt sleep at all because of the excitement and reached airport at around 1.30 am. As I went it through customs, baggage check and other formailities, my heart started sinking as I saw the airport to be presenting a picture of General Bus Stand at GT Road. Labour Class as usual, lots of Naswar, open collars, and loads of spitting. It looked as everybody was excessively salivating, perhaps their sweat in humid weather was also coming out this alternate route.

The queue in front of Immigration was long, curved and I guess if Google earth had mapped it, must have shown up like a curved snake wiggling around. The immigration officer was not around and people as usual were cursing and jumping though the incoming flight had not arrived yet, but as usual our Pukhtoon brothers were behaving like monkeys.

When the immigration officer came, his face sounded familiar. As I was wondering where had I seen this guy, he waved me from a distance and waved to ask me to come to him. As I approached him, I was delighted to see the guy who was an year senior to me in Cadet College, Kohat. He hugged me, had a little chat as the rest of the queue further boiled, and then he stamped our passports and asked for a cup of tea which I politely declined.

He asked an officer of Qatar Airways to take us to VIP lounge and as we were escorted away, the labour class started grinding their teeth in anger. I didnt bother to look back and soon after security checks we were comforting in the VIP lounge. I wanted to sleep but couldnt. The rest of the hour was unremerakable and soon we were told to embark on the plane.

As we carried our hand luggage towards the plane, I saw the mighty Qatar Airways Airbus A330-300 with Asian Games 2006 mascot painted on the plane's tail instead of the traditional Goat head logo of Qatar Airways.

It was strange as the airport surroundings were dark, and it felt as the plane was standing in middle of a dark desert. As we comforted in our seats, I was astonished to see the very old infrastructure on Peshawar Airport, which is no good than the Wagons Stand at the GT Road.

Soon we took off from Peshawar, and as our plane made a circle over the airport, gaining cruising altitude, I glanced a deep view at the Hayatabad lights, and I was wondering my home was somewhere down below, I slide back my head against the seat, closed my eyes, and tried best to sleep....

To be continued..........

At around 5.50 am in the morning, Qatar Local time, we landed at Doha Airport. Soon we disembarked from the plane and were taken to main terminal from where we had to change flights. Went again through the ridicolous security checks, and were soon roaming in Duty Free. I poured almost every perfume, I could get my hands on, from the testers available from the world leading perfume brands at the Doha Airport.

Soon afterwards we were feeling hungry and as I bought a box of french fries and two glasses of orange juice, I was given the first electric shock, as I was told to pay a whooping 20 US Dollars for the treat. Poor me????? I ate the last fry of the meal, as it was paid heavily. Later on we boarded a plane for Beirut and within the next 2 hours, we landed at Beirut. As we stepped out of Plane, a fresh wave of familiar Mediterranian air, hit my nostrils. Deja Vu......Long 26 years since I had smelled Mediterannian air.

And we were given a transit visa for Beirut and the Qatar Airways staff took us to Ramada Hotel Liban in the heart of the city. We were given Room 512 on Floor No 18....Yes Floor 18...Scary it sounds....isnt it......

Took some photos of the downtown Beirut from my hotel window and soon embarked out on a foot journey of Beirut. Wow, what a city. French looking people speaking fluent Arabic. The only Arabs in the world, more beautiful than the Europeans. Soon found my way into a roadside traditional hotel and went for the famous Lebanese Shwarama. The one available in Peshawar is a 10 Number cheap imitation ( a boiled spiced chicken spead on a baked bread), while the original Lebanese one tastes terrific.


(Beirut from my hotel window)

Beirut was a marathon trip. I felt like the Kenyan Long Distance Runner, albiet a white one and I scratched my head as the taxi made its wavy ups and downs through various parts of downtown Beirut. Wow, a beautiful city with beautiful people. What can one ask for hehehehe.

everywhere I could see the quotes of the famous Arab Philosopher, writer and poet, Kahlil Jibran, which our Pakistani brothers read as Khalil Jibran, while his actual name in KAHLIL JIBRAN.

I could see the huge posters of Shiekh Hassan Nasrullah and General Michel Aoun everywhere in Beirut. In evening time, Arab music can be found beside every street cafe and people are fond of outside tea and music which is an integral part of Beirut life.

Keeping these memories live in our mind, we reached Beirut Airport from where we boarded Qatar Airways Airbus A340-500 for London Heathrow. Yuck, this time we were stuck in centre seats. Astonishingly, the plane was mostly full of Phillipinos or people from the Far East.

As our plane left Beirut and circled over Mediterranian for reaching its crusing altitude to Europe, one man who sounded like bengali, but looked and outdated, amigo version of Thailanders, started asking for Vodka from the Flight Attendant.

His particular request for a drink was "Little water, More Vodka, More Ice" and for the next 5 hours of flight he repeatedly narrated the same sentences like a roted Parrot. I think after 2 or 3 requests, the Flight Attendants started ignoring him, but he kept begging for more and more to each flight attendant. It reminded me of our Pukhtoon brothers who have a peculiar habit of eating "Ganderis" in aeroplane and spitting around with the left over stuff.

This time, since we trapped like TOm and Jerry in the middle seats, there were no windows around to peek below, so I started to bore myself with reading in flight magazines and tried to read the flight maps. I thought getting bored would get me a good sleep, instead I got a good headache, and I tried to sleep in sitting Budha posture, but then soon corrected myself as I didnt want that the Phillipino looking creatures start worshipping me. So I opened my eyes like Mr Bean did in his famous movies, and tried to hum on some songs which I could remember at that time.

After about 5 hours which seemed like 5 years, the Captain announced that we are about to Land in London soon. I tried to glance through distant windows and as we desecended through the clouds, I saw the Tower Bridge on Thames River, the Famous London Eye, Hyde Park, and within we minutes we touched down on Runway 27L of Heathrow Airport, the most busiest airport of the world.

Continued.....

I am enjoying...much
Please keep on writing your memories.

So finally at 6.00 Pm on 21st August, we landed at Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport. As we moved out of the aircraft, two security officials greeted us with a smile, checked our passports and waved us to move down a long lane, what is traditionally called as Air Bridge. On left side, I saw two Big British Airways Jumbo B 747 take off one after other, from runway 27R. The clear skies with beautiful colours of the aircraft was a treat for eyes, everything was looking so different, so clean,...wow.

After a 5 minutes walk, we reached the Immigration counters. Everyone was standing in a queue. No shouting, no grinning, no pushing, no punching, no cursing, the common eye sore scenes seen at Pakistani Airports. eurpeans are a cool nation, unlike chest thumping, always swearing and sweating, blood thirsty, Pakistani nation.

We went quickly through immigration and went downstairs to collect our baggages. As we collected them I and my wife took out our long coats, as the weather was quite chilly. We came out through the arrivals, and I glanced around to find some empty chairs for us, because Saleem had to come us to pick us from London, and according to him, he was on his way, and it would take another 2 hours for him to reach us, keeping in view of the London traffic and the fact that he was coming from Birmingham.

(Just after arriving at Terminal 3 Heathrow)




So I slid back in the chair and tried to take a quick nap, as I was dead tired. As I was watching the different types of people coming out from arrivals, I started seeing that the non-doctor stuff of my MPH students, both male as well as females were dancing in a circle, doing Bhangra a la rock style. I was astonished to see them in London, and as I moved closer I saw that they were singing that " Bidhai ho Bidhai, Doctor Nayyar say Jaan chooti, Ab hamari Ayaashi, Dham dama Dham". My mouth was half open and as my jaws dropped low in a state of septic shock, I was brought back to senses by the bell of my cell phone, and I was awakened......
I thought they must be dancing in the class in my absence, and doing rock and roll...hmmmmmmm.....My wife annoyingly turned my attention to my cell phone to answer and as I answered Saleem was yelling that he will be there in an hour and that I should not move anywhere from the arrivals gate.....

Phew, poor me, as if I had other plans...... Finally after an hour, Saleem appeared at the gate and waved with a big smile. Hurrah, hail Hitler, towards our distination....


To be continued.......

As Saleem took out his car from the 4rth floor of the Heathrow Terminal 3 Car Park, I saw a line of lights indicating the landing aircrafts, one after the other. Its also scary because the planes are one after the other landing in a line, and one mistake by anyone can put at least 4-5 aircrafts in life threateniong conditions.

It was very windy and chilly outside despite clear skies and the evening was setting in. I saw time and it was 8.00 pm local GMT. As we circled over M25 and onward onto M1, the motorway linking London with Birmingham, I tried to relax back. We reached a Services Point, where I bought a big cup of strong English blend tea and as we moved out of services, Saleem took a wrong turn and we mistakenly were onward towards London again. But sooner than latter we realized the mistake and from one interchange we turned back.

At around 11.00 pm we entered Birmingham. As we moved towards our rented room, Saleem told me about the surrounding shops and where we could find food stuff. As we moved into our home, a Polish guy came to open the door. As the Land Lord showed us our room, I got the first jolt as he told me that kitchen and bathroom were shared with Polish people.

As I roamed around, I decided to test the washroom, so I went inside and I pulled the bulb cord, phoops, the whole electricity of the house went off. I started trembling, thinking perhaps I have plugged out the main electricity switch and as I was trying to find out my way in complete darkness, a Polish guy from upper floor came downstairs ( his name was later out known to be Mr Pavel Maras), and turned a fuse plug which restored the electricity. He then told us that there is some problem with the bathroom electricity and whenever someone pulls the bulb cord, the whole house electricity goes off. Now this sounded typical Pakistani and i laughed that at least something Paki over here too.

We kept our luggage in the room, locked it and Saleem took us to a mainly Pakistani ( read Mirpuri's) area where we ate Fried Meat, Chicken Handi and Daal Mash in a Pakistani restuarant.

Finally we bought tea leaf, disposable cups, eggs, milk, bread, soaps, washing powder and some other stuff and Saleem dropped us at out residence, and he went back as he was also dead tired.

We tried to sleep but I couldnt as the bedroom had changed, and the weather was also very chilly. I tried to turn on the radiator heater, but somehow it was no working. I dont know what time, I went to sleep, but early in the morning at around 7 am I was awake again.

We went to kitchen and started cooking our breakfast. In the mean time, one by one the other inmates of the house started coming to kitchen for preparing their breakfast one by one. Thanks God, there were two ovens, one gas one, the other an electric one, so everybody could prepare their breakfast at the same time.

We did our introduction with the Polish people around, we came to know that there there were 7 other rooms. In 4 rooms, there were 4 Polish Bachelor males, while on the 2nd floor, there were two Polish Couples, while one Russian Girl was living with her Mirpuri boyfriend.

We develop good friendship with Lucas and Magda. They were also Polish and were boyfriend-girlfriend, but very nice, and gentle couple. Throughout our 2 months we had very close friendship with them. So we took our breakfast, and soon we went outside to have a look at the neighbourhood.

To be continued.........

22nd August. It was a sunny day. Me and my wife strolled along our new neighbourhood. I saw lots of South Asian faces around, perhaps, Indians or Pakistanis. As we circled around our neighbourhood, my eyes focused on Big John Foods across the road, with a big HALAL sign on it.

It was time to moist our tastebuds, so I quickly crossed the road and went inside. Quite familiar Pakistani faces. As I scanned the price list board, I saw fresh Fish and Chips so immediately my order was for two fish and chips. It costed me a totall of 3.99 Pounds. As to discuss whether we should take some thing else to eat, I asked my wife in Pushto language, and she said this was enough. A guy behind the counter smiled and asked in Pushto, if I was from NWFP. I was taken aback suddenly by amazement as a Pukhtoon guy was right in front of me. I said yes, and he started taking a mini interview. When I told I was living in the 37 Alexander street in front of his shop, he returned all my money. I insisted a lot on paying but he said no way ( He never took a single penny from me during the entire 2 months, specially in Ramazan).

He also knew Saleem, the uncle of my wife, who was also living in Birmingham and now he was all for us. He gave me his cell no and told me that whenever I need something to eat, I should just give him a call, and everything will be at my door steps. He remained true to his words thereafter.

We came back and enjoyed the hot Fish and Chips with a bottle of traditional Coke. Wow, what a delight it was....I have always loved Fish and Chips, right from the first time, I started tasting it in 1999.

At 2.30 pm Saleem gave a call that he was coming to take us to the city to give us an idea of the city, so that later we can navigate through the city using the metropolitan bus service. He took us to Bull Ring Centre, the famous City Center of Manchester, which has been built in the shape of a Bull and is considered to be one of the modern shopping centres of Europe. Every leading brand name is there like Debenhams, Marks and Spencers, TK Max, Gucci, Boots, Next, Primark, GAP etc etc. It is called Bull Ring also because in the 12th Century, the place was used for using baited bulls for Dog Fights which was cruel tradition and was later banned by the King. In this tradition, people used tied bulls and used as baits for dogs who used to attack them and eat them, while the spectators watched. The centre is now named Bull Ring, and has been designed in the form of a Bull.

Later Saleem took us to Edgbaston, where his famous University of Birmingham is situated. This is the same Edgbaston, where the famous Edgbaston Cricket Ground is located, where usually Pakistan plays England. This is considered to be a posh area where rich people live. Houses are big, beautiful, and each costs no less than 500,000 Pound Sterlings. Now thats a huge cost. Just multiply it with 120 and you will get light headedness. Birmingham University is so huge and impressive, I forgot Peshawar University's vastness. Only the Central Library is a seveb floored structure housing around 7-8 million books. I thought it would require a full day to navigate this big empire.

On our way back, Saleem took us to Star City, the famous Entertainment House which houses many restuarants and Cinemas. Sher Khan and Nando are two top food outlets in Star City and leading Cinema brands like Odeon, Vue etc are also there.

It was late evening, so we were taken to Alum rock area which is considered the Darra Adam Khel of Birmingham. Mostly inhabited by Mirpuris or M.P's as they are called in UK. Mirpuris are Kashmiris, whose first generation migrated here during Ayub Khan era as Mangla Dam affectees. Now their two generations have grown up here, and they have a big role here. Even the Birmingham Mayor is a Mirpuri, Chaudry Yaqoob. Mirpuris are very closely knitted to each other and generally hate Pakistanis except on occassion of a cricked match with India, when they call themselves Pakistanis, otherwise they generally try to keep themselves distant from genuine Pakistanis.

Mirpuris dont allow others to have hold in their areas, and I was told that there had been serious scuffles between Mirpuris and Khattaks here in which one biy was stabbed to death. Even Police prefers to keep away from Alum Rock. The other area mainly inhabited by Khattaks of Chirat, NWFP is Bordesly Green in Birmingham.

We took a traditional Pakistani Dinner at a restaurant in Alum Rock. The menu was seekh Kababs which are called Sheesh Kababs in UK, Mutton Handi and Roast Chicken.

Saturday 23rd August 2008. Asma and Sajad visited us at around 10 am. The Plan was to go Worcester Safari Park. Sajad had brought his vintage Mercedes LPG driver car. We took the M5 Motorway towards Worcester and the Tom Tom Satellite Navigation was guiding us.
Near the Safari Park, the Tom Tom gave a very ridiculous instruction as it asked to take a u turn and then turn right and then go straight. It could have simply said Turn Left, when both meant the same thing.
Anyhow it was weekend and the Safari Park was full of public, mostly children and it was time to call the children in us, to come out and have some fun. We bought tickets and first went inside the Reptile Chambers, where we saw some of the dealy reptiles of the world. Later we drove into the Safari looking at various animals and even fed wild antelopes with our own hands.
The best view was of White Siberian Tigers.

After two and half hours drive within the Safari, it was time to say goodbye to the animals and we were back to Birmingham. On the way back, we had plans to go to Star City to have Pierre Pierre Chicken at nando's Portuguese outlet, but somehow we lost our way and after taking some long turns, we finally reached Star City. By that time, the weather had turned cloudy and it had started to rain.

Nando's was full, so we went to Sher Khan Restaurane and ordered Pierre Pierre Chicken with Extra Hot Sauce while Sajad and Asma ordered for Nan Qeema. The Pierre Pierre Chicekn was not of Nando's original quality but still I ate a lot of it and packed the remaining. By 7.30 pm Sajad and Asma dropped us at our residence at Acocks Green in Birmingham and they went back to Cardiff.

It was sunday and as we had now well settled after our jet lag, we woke up at around 10.30 am. Saleem was on duty for 2-3 days and couldnt come to us, so we decided to explore Birmingham on our own.

We took a light breakfast and went to the Acocks Green Bus Stop and waited for 37 No Bus, as the locals told us that 37 would take us to City Centre. When 37 came, we purchased Day Saver tickets. Each costs 3 Pound Sterlings and can be used for multiple all day long journies within the greater Birmingham area which includes Coventry in the East to Dudley and Wolverhampton in west and Castle Bromwich in North to Kings Norton in South. We passed through the famous Stratford Road of Birmingham, which is housed by Asians, mostly Pakistanis (read Mirpuris) and Indians. There are many Desi shops which cater to every type of Desi need from food to clothes, from plastic items to every large electronic item etc etc.

The west end of Stratford Road was inhabited by Somalis and they could be seen everywhere around. We stepped down at the City Centre Cathedral stop. As we started to climb up towards the Bull Ring Centre, I slipped my hand in my jeans pocket to take out my camera to take some shots....... And What the Fuck...... I had forgot my camera at home. It was a sunny afternoon, a rare sight in Europe, and I didnt want to miss the bright photos in shiny sunlight.

I asked my wife to sit on a bench at the City Centre and I took a 37 No upward bound bus back to Acocks Green to take my camera from home. From the bus stop I literally had to run all the way to home to take the camera and then again took a down bound 37 No Bus to reach back to City Centre. The whole saga took about 40 minutes. It was now 4.00 pm and we had one hour as by 5.00 pm all businesses close down in the City Centre.

The Europeans have a habit of working mainly 9.00 to 5.00 and after 5.00 the hustly bustly City Centre looks like a Ghost Town. We took random shots here and there, as whatever seemed interesting


The Central Landmark at the Bull Ring Centre


Rear entry to the Bull Ring Centre


Took a Blurry shot of a Train at the New Street Train Station which passes right under the Bull Ring Centre

Again a clear bright sunny day but there were forcasts of light showers in the evening, so decided to make it a day. This time, we decided to test the Somali dishes.
So out there we went, an 11-C Double Decker to the Coventry Road and then 57 Up to Small Health, Birmingham, an area heavily infested with Mirpuris and Somalis, so obviously we felt more like at home with quitee some litter around.
Went to a Somlari Restaurant, by just asking a few local passers by as to which was the good restaurant in the area.
Delito Africana was the name, as we went inside, it was a sight of relief as the place was Halal. So we were welcomed, given a good corner table. The menu included many things entirely new to us, but it was highly risky to experiment, so we decided to throw the ball in Somali court.
We asked the Waiter that bring the best tasty Somali dish which we will remember for years. The person politely nodded, then smiled and said Sir....
What he brought was salted steamed Rice cooked in beaten parsley leaves and flattened salted steamed and grilled pepper chicken steaks which were topping the Rice. A somali variety of salad with Onion beaten in Worcester Sauce and Mint leaves was served as starter appetizer.
My God....What a tasty dish, when I took the first bite. Simply Superb.....My wife was clever enough to ask the person about the recipe, which I am sure he wouldnt have told us, but the extra appraisal ....and the person told us some quicks cooking tips.
Ahhhhhh. I guess its time to test it here at home too......

Dear Sir

Very interesting seen

Dr.Zahid
Kabul

Saleem reached at 10 am that morning and off we were to Marry Hill Shopping Centre, a posh outskirt of Birmingham. As we started taking pictures in the most beautifu part of Birmingham, a security official with eagle eyes had detected our mobile phone cams and approached us to tell this open secret that photography was not allowed. Alas!!!!!! My jaw dropped two feet down and I had to lift it up manually to avoid any individual getting inside without permission

After roaming around, Saleem decided to take us to areas where he had previously worked so we drove off to Worcestershire, a small district south west of Birmingham Midlands. Worcestershire is a small town, famous for the the most old church of England built in the 12th century and whose picture is also depicted on the 20 Pound Currency Bill of the Bank of england.

Dear sir,
Interesting photography.the scenes are very beautifully
pictured. Amazing,a lot of fun is there.

Ramazan had started and Asma was constantly asking us to visit her in Cardiff and one day Sajad angrily called and said enough is enough, pack now and take a train or bus to Cardiff. "Marta Kia na Karta", I went to National Express Digbeth Coach Station to buy two tickets to Cardiff for the next day. It costed me 47 Pounds to buy 2 tickets. My God, it was a DC Shock.
On my way back, it was lightly raining so I decided to drop in the Somali/ African neighbourhood of Birmingham called Sparkbrook as cheap internet cafe's were available there. Half hour of internet costed me 50 pence. As I finished the half hour and came oput of the cafe, the rain was soooooooooooo heavy, that i never ever had seen such heavy rain in my life. The umbrella couldnt save me from the wrath of the waters of the Heavens. Bus stop was 5 minutes walk away and within that 5 minutes I was washed like you wash clothes in washing machine. When I boarded the 37 No Up Bus, I was dripping water like the PDA water tankers. I was wondering if I might flood the bus
Would you believe the next 2 days, it rained so much that some areas of Birmingham came under water and specially rural areas of Gloucestershire and Worcestershire came under floods. Even River Taff in Cardiff was overflowing. Anyhow the next day we took the 3.00 pm Bus to Cardiff. As we came out of Birmingham and onto the M42 Motorway, the Friday Rush hours had started, and there was traffic jam on the motorways. No accidents, but phantom jams.
And I was grinding my teeth because we had to reach Cardiff before fasting time. It was a test of nerves as it took us 5 hours for what is a normal 3 hours drive.
So much so that the driver of the bus who was perhaps doing overtime was constantly calling his manager from the bus and asking him to give him replacment at Newport because he was driving for more than 10 hours on that poor day.
To make matters worse, an English family (Khoshakaay family....Mind you Khoshakaay are there in English people too), who was occupying the last seats of the bus were talking to each other on the highest volume of their throats and their children were constantly making noise by using plastiky kalashinkovs.
When we got out of the bus at Cardiff, I thought of calling an Ambulance as I was about to go down.

Bottom Note: In England ALWAYS AVOID NATIONAL EXPRESS COACHES. They are the worst