My first flight into Islamabad was something of a culture shock. For the previous few years I’d been used to flying in and out of disorganised, busy African airports, but an Asian one was, if possible, even less organised.
After a week or so in Islamabad I headed down to the madness of Karachi. I flew into a maelstrom of complete lunacy and instantly fell in love with the city.
I was very lucky in my 18 months in the country, I travelled far and wide, saw things I didn’t even know existed, things I didn’t want to see and things that shouldn’t even exist.
One day, driving between Sukkur and Karachi I saw this:
On passing it I saw it was alive and asked my driver what this was all about. “The only way of getting it to market” was the obvious reply.
I held history in my hands.
I spent half an hour here having known nothing about its existence before and sucked in the history.
I loved Karachi, a city of many contrasts, a salad that made me cry it was so hot, more motorbikes than I’d ever seen before, with less helmets than I’d ever seen before.
My time in Pakistan came to an abrupt end after the office we used was demolished by a bomb and the company decided it was too dangerous to stay there.
The letter P was bought to you by: http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/