So Monday was supposed to be a relaxing day, trip to the spa for facials and mani-pedis. No pics, because my eyes were closed for the facial and my hands were trapped during the manicure, but it was nice. After that we shopped for clothes and somehow that took all day. Then we went back to that place where we ate in the car that time but this time we ate inside.
Yesterday was the double-decker bus-top tour of Lahore, and it was AMAZING.
I don’t like typing with my thumbs, so travel-blogging should have more pics and less text, but for that to work I’d have to be a little better about remembering to take said pics. But here’s some.
just some lights on the street. Because even traffic deserves something pretty to look at.
Adorable poufs at a shop called Haroon’s.
My first-ever bridal shower at a very fancy house.
And yes there was also a bikini waxing experience. No, there will never be pictures of that.
I did so many things today! The best tea ever is cheap as chips here and before we went out we had a snack, oh nothing special, just some fish curry and also beef curry and fresh hot naan that a man brings to the door and also homemade yogurt.
After that we rolled out to the car and experienced lots of Lahore traffic, which is very cultural! (I mean, all traffic is cultural, not just here.) Also Google weather says Lahore: 28°C, smoke, which I’ve never seen in a weather report before. “Smoke” was later replaced by “haze.” Cool, huh?
First we tried to get me a sim card because for some dumbass reason mine doesn’t work here, but they wouldn’t sell us one because we might be terrorists (things you don’t have to think about back home) and then we went to Liberty Market! Which was amazing but I can’t find any good web pages about it, so no link, sorry. But it was awesome and I bought dresses.
And then – and then! Okay there was another dress store but then! Food! We went to this place and we stayed in the car and a man took our order and brought out plates of YUM (potato and chickpeas and yogurt and onions and tamarind) and we ate sitting in the car.
Now we’re back at the house (in a part of Lahore called Garden Town, which I just love that name) and Ayesha is throwing a rooftop barbecue and I’m kind of hiding in my room because I picked up a migraine on the flight here and my noise tolerance is all used up. But I had a great day!
This week in “Shit Only Anna Seems To Do,” hey guys, I’m going to Pakistan tomorrow!
I know. I KNOW, all right?
Sometime in the summer when I was still spiral-eyed with longing and dismay, a friend said that travel, getting out of my environment, would be good for me. She was probably reaching for something, anything, to get that look off my face, I don’t know. So we talked about maybe going to Lisbon or Madrid sometime around my birthday, but she had all this other travel planned, including visiting her family in Lahore in late October, so we hatched the idea that I would visit her while she visited them.
So I booked flights and started trying to figure out how to get a visa, something I’ve never done before, and that was a whole foofaraw but in the meantime I was leaving a job and starting another job and moving to another house and all this stuff and also feeling really really sad and scared about my future and I guess I just never got around to mentioning it because so many other things were more immediate.
Today was a crazy mess. I was nervous about applying for a visa by post because I didn’t want to mail my passport anywhere. So I applied online, but nothing happened for awhile, so I sent a “Hello?” email and they replied “Yeah, you hafta hit the Submit button for the application to go through.” So I lost some time on that stupidity. Late last week they emailed to tell me to go in to the consulate “Wednesday or Thursday” (hello, I’m flying on Thursday?) so I got up at six to drive to Frankfurt this morning and I got there early and waited for aaaages and they didn’t seem to know what to do with me but they very confidently said “wait here” for about two and a half hours, and then I finally got to see the consul and he asked me to upload the contract for my job. And I’m like, wouldn’t it have been easier for everyone if you’d just emailed me that request? Or said, anywhere on the online application portal, that you would want that kind of information? Augh. AND he wanted me to do it by 3pm and it was already almost noon and I was late to meet my co-workers for my farewell/post-birthday lunch, after which I was scheduled to guest-teach my co-worker Josh’s Academic Writing in English class and also you saw my last post – that is the headspace I’ve been in for the last two weeks so yeah, there may have been a bit of crying with the driving back to Heidelberg.
Made it back. Had lunch with colleagues. Talkedveryfast through the AcWri class because that’s how I roll anyway, even when I’m not freaking out about several things at once. Drove home to find my contract. Oh hey, this is the one from 2018, where’s my 2019 contract? Dunno. So I drove up to my new job, ran into the IT guy trying to leave, dragged him back inside to show me how to scan things, scanned the contract, uploaded it to the Pakistan Consulate Visa Application site… and then did some actual work related to that actual job. That calmed me down a bit, which is why this post features punctuation.
Anyway at some point I got an email saying my application was accepted and I downloaded my visa and so yes I really actually am going to Pakistan, though there was quite a bit of doubt for quite a while. I’ll try to upload some pictures or something.
I really didn’t listen to music for a long time there, but let’s revive the song du jour of the day with a repeat. In a Moment by Ray Davies has been in my head all day.
Aaaagh I can’t blog because I have three jobs and I’m either at work or in transit from 9am to 11pm and my brain is fried. But at least I’m not thinking about HoBag or DumbFuck. Silver linings, I guess.
But I’m still here! That’s something, at least.
So another thing happened, and this is a good thing. Probably. Sort of. Maybe? Via a friend in the company, I landed a three-month contract for a part time job as a web administrator (basically pouring data into a CMS). I already knew some of my new co-workers, having met them at parties thrown by said friend, and pub quizzes and the like, so I know it’s a good working environment, and I really love webwork so yay! Am happy.
But this does postpone my officially moving in to My House until the end of the year. I mean, I’m taking the first few boxes over this weekend, and will probably haul a few boxes every other weekend until it’s done, but unless one of my sons moves in with me, it’ll be awhile before I can be reunited with my beloved Hekate. Sigh. But I really love this job already!
But it’s only temporary… OR IS IT? (dun-dun-duuuunnnnn…). A boss already asked me if I’d be interested in staying past the end of my contract and of course I said yes because I really love the work and my co-workers are cool. But it’s a helluva commute from Bavaria.
But I can’t not move. I turfed out the world’s best tenants so I could live in this house; if I change my mind now they will mad, and justifiably so. I still want to move. I think. Do I?
STOP IT STOP IT STAAAAAHP IT! Every time I start to question that, I run into Hobag or see them on the street or find out that they live a block from me or some other distressing thing. Clearly, the tenants finding a new place so quickly is a sign that I should go back to my house, and running into Hobag and Cheatobag all the time is a further sign. This awesome new job is just… a reason to be sad about going.
Gah.
Oh, P.S. I also finally found a really good ballet class.
Dammit.
So I moved to my colleague’s office, and on my third day there, I’m in the office doorway, having just arrived, and who should come up the stairs but ol’ BitchFace McHoBag herself. Yeah. Apparently (I later found out in a very acrimonious WhatsApp with my husband, which may or may not have contained phrases like “stupid gutter whore” and “lying, cheating ass”) her advisor’s office is in the building where I work.
Her advisor. Because she needs an advisor because she is a student. I don’t know if I mentioned this at the time, but back in May or so when I asked him if he didn’t see any ethical problems with sleeping with one of his students, his response was “She won’t be a student for much longer.” AS IF THAT MAKES IT OKAY.
But I digress.
I was not brave. I was not strong. I scuttled into my office and cried for four hours. The next day I went to my therapist, who told me that Mr. Husband and Ms. McHoBag didn’t do anything wrong and are probably in love, which, from any angle, is basically exactly The Wrong Thing to Say. But I forced myself to reflect on it because it’s therapy and people keep telling me therapy isn’t supposed to be fun, and that’s how I cried myself into five days of migraine. I finally surfaced from those yesterday.
So yeah. It’s been a hell of a week. I really need to get out of Heidelberg. Like, really.
alala 