One more time

It appears that we're heading up to the villages again next week. Since the NGO that G-man had so badly wanted to use, for reasons totally unrelated to their ability to actually perform the work, had no experience or capacity to do the work, we have had to revisit our options. Happily, we have found an NGO that appears to be competent and has experience in this area, so I'm going up with them as they field test the survey. It should be interesting, and let's all hope that the car makes it this time, on the first try. Not that the first trip wasn't fun and all, but once makes for a good story. Twice starts to get on your nerves. But I'm sure that G-man will talk my ear off, I'm sure the food will be tasty once again, and I'm sure that I will remain "on the cutting edge of Pakistani fashion." *ahem*

My meeting today with G-man was supposed to start at 12. So I arrived at 11:55, and found an empty office. His assistants told me that he would be there shortly. Apparently "shortly" means "an hour". I sat there and read through my planner, read the little blurbs about "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" that are in there, as well as some of the quotes that are supposed to be motivational. Thank goodness for that, or I would have had to chew my own arm off for entertainment. But you see, G-man is the sort of person who very much likes feeling important, and that manifests itself in all kinds of ways. One of those ways is strolling into a meeting an hour late and breezily saying "I hope you didn't mind waiting. I told them to bring you an orange drink." It also manifests itself in him calling me at 9:15 pm on a Sunday to tell me something that could have easily been communicated to me on Monday - but he likes to feel as though people are at his beck and call. Or maybe he just expects it, because so many people are. Ah, the good times.

Not to spend too much time talking about the interesting translations of things (and as a correction - the diet/power yoga clinic sign said "We Exhaust Your Fatness!", I was remembering it incorrectly), but we passed a store today called "Karachi Arms Dealers". Now, I would think that's the kind of thing you might want to keep on the d-l, but perhaps not. To offer explanation, the sign said, in small print, "We are authorized to deal in firearms, ammunition, and various other weapons" Well, good. It's sort of like one-stop shopping. They're like the Target of arms dealers.

I had an interesting morning trying to get my visa extended. The only reason I have to do this at all, mind you, is because the person who was supposed to take care of it in our Washington office got my visa for one month, not four. When I told her this, she said "oh, well, it's really easy to get it extended once you're there." What I should have said was "well, that may be true. But I'll bet it's not easier than having you do it over and getting it right this time." Alas, I didn't say that, because I was caught up in getting everything settled before my departure. So I tell the useless oxygen thief that I need to get this done, and can he take care of it? Oh, no problem. Then a few days later, I ask him what the status is, and he says I have to wait a few more days, then go down to the immigration office with him. Oh, and we can't leave before 10:30, because the office isn't open that early. What a lovely coincidence, considering that's about the time he ambles in every morning!

Both incidents bring to mind a line from "Notting Hill":

So, tell me, Martin. If I were to employ a wet rag, would I have to pay it as much as I pay you?

Life in Karachi is many things, but dull is not one of them - not yet, anyway.