At 1.00 we are eventually ready to leave as Sharjeel turns up to pick us up, I still have to complete my packing and only have a few hours before we have to be at the airport I think it’s going to be another throw everything in and sort it out when I get home. On the way back he starts to play with my head again. You know you are not going to be allowed to take half the stuff you have bought back with you. They will not allow the toiletries, perfume, knives and DVD’s he informs me, they will take it all out he continues and will search every box and bag manually. I don’t think so I reply, I can take liquids and sharp objects as long as they are not in my hand luggage I reply. I have been travelling long enough to know the international travelling rues. No this is Pakistan he replies haughtily, they have their own rules here, and they have become really strict. I don’t believe him at all but me being me I still start worrying and ever though to his face I tell him he is talking out of his ass I still worry and when we get back I ask Samra if I can use her phone to call Aneela and ask her to ring me back. Arshad calls back and I explain the situation to him, you are the last person I know that left Pakistan, is it that bad? I ask him while I repeat what Sharjeel has told me. Don’t listen to him they both reassure me. I had no problems; they only do a thorough search if they find something suspicious or have been given a top off. You will be fine as long as you are within your allowable weight allowance. You know what he is like, he talks out of his arse most of the time, he is just trying to scare you. Yes he could be trying to get his own back for me showing him up at the restaurant I suggest. You will be fine they repeat and I’m happy with that. So? Samra asks as I put the phone down. They agree with me I tell her, as long as all that stiff is in the checked in luggage it will be OK, Sharjeel is just sounding of again trying to bet the big man. Why did you even listen to him? Yalmaaz questions me; you know what he is like, thinks he is always right and knows it all. Don’t listen to him, how many times has he been out of the country? One Yalmaaz adds helpfully. This coming from his own brother makes me feel a whole load better.

That dealt with I go straight to the room where my stuff has been stored and start putting the rest of my clothes and gear into my backpack while Yalmaaz and Samra go through the photos of Amritsar which are still in my camera. For some reason I have no idea why I decide to check on my compact camera before I put the case into my luggage, it’s not there. I bought my little Panasonic FX01 camera out with me when I started my travels but then left it in Pakistan with Sharjeel as I had not used it in the first 3 months. I asked for it back on the second or third day I arrived to see if it was still working and then put it with the rest of my things only to find it missing now. What the fuck! I say as I manage to capture the attention of both mother and son, my camera is missing is all I can say as I just look at an empty case in bewilderment. You sure? They ask in unison. Whoever it was has taken the camera and left the case so I would not notice it missing, they have kindly left the spare battery as well. Look in the rest of your stuff maybe you left it out Samra suggest. It is not misplaced it’s stolen I repeat as they start looking around. I’m not a happy person right now.

Samra does what she does in just such situations, she calls for Sharjeel (you see why he has God complex now!), in follows Shumail as well as the one of the kids from upstairs, why doesn’t the whole world come it! OK the family I fine but I want to tell the boy from upstairs to fuck off and mind his own business but hold my tongue as it will come back on Samra that her guest told the kid to piss off, as if she stuck her hand up my backside and controlled what came out of my mouth, everything is someone else’s fault in this country or is that just how my family reacts? Sharjeel gets filled in on what is going on and I stand there watching as they all stand there muttering and then start looking. It’s not in the room guys I repeat out loud, there is no way the camera could have fallen out of it’s wallet as it has some heavy duty velcro on it, it was taken. It’s only then that I found out that my camera is not the first thing that has grown legs and walked out of this house, both Yalmaaz and Sharjeel’s mobiles have gone missing over the last few weeks before I turned up. Samra thinks it’s the family upstairs and not the maid as I think it is as she was not on duty the days the mobiles went missing. I am trying not to say anything as I do not want to say anything I may regret later once I have calmed down. Samra urges me to unpack everything and pack again, both the boxes that are now sealed shut and the half packed backpack. I don’t really want to as I know it’s not in there but to humour her and keep the peace I do, I cave in just to put her mind at rest. As she steps out of the room to ring Irfan her husband I turn to Sharjeel and ask him who the two guys were who where in this room 2 days ago. I was refilling my water bottle a couple of days ago and noticed two of his friends coming out of my room a few minutes after I had had been standing there, how long where they in there I don’t know but I mentioned it to him straight after and he told me not to worry, that they were good friends of his from respectable families and not thieves. It was them I tell him while he rubbishes the accusation. They had no reason to be in my room for as long as they were I repeat, what were they doing in there? Why where they in there? He refuses to believe it was them but then does agree with his mother that someone will have to replace my camera, and seeing it was their house it should be them and she agrees. I feel funny about talking money of off her, after all it wasn’t she who took the camera but then again ii am out of pocket. Why should I be when she told me to leave my things in there, no one will take anything she assured me when she knew two mobiles had been stolen previously. I’m confused, I need to repack everything and I have only got 15 minutes before we have to leave for the airport. I don’t know what to say, I do not want to take her up on the offer but then again I do not want to dismiss it outright. They are not poor but then again she has been saying how she is having a tough time balancing the household expenses as Irfan doesn’t send any money, she runs the house from the money she gets from renting her shops out, but the kids all go to private schools and they spend a fortune in ordering food in. I need more time to think about this, maybe talk to Aneela and Arshad they will know what to do and I do not want to leave with this being the last thing we talk about. Forget about it for now I say, I do not want to discuss this right now, I have about an hour left and I want it to be a happy one. I can’t remember how much I paid for it or how much it will cost to replace right now so let’s drop this ands pretend it never happened for now and enjoy the last hour. She agrees but I can see she is still worrying about it. It’s not your fault Samra, I don’t blame anyone in the family, discuss it with Irfan when he returns on the 7th and we will sort something out amongst us. She’s loaded Sharjeel pipes up, she can afford it. I don’t know if he is joking or not but right now the quip is pissing me off. I don’t think so I reply sarcastically as I continue packing and by 2.00 I am ready to leave.

Shumail’s friend who was in the room ran upstairs as soon as discussions were over to report to the women upstairs what happened and as I drag my stuff out to put in the car they start with their mock sympathy. Oh what a bad thing to happen starts the older of the two, and just before you were just about to leave the younger one pipes in. well it wasn’t going to happen after I just left now was it. I hate people like then, they love taking pleasure from other people’s misfortune and for every sympathetic line they feed me I have an equally sarcastic reply, said with a smile on my face of course until they figure out they are not going to get anything out of me so leave me to it. Back to leaving and I’m having another banging my head against a brick wall moment. First Sharjeel says let’s leave at 2.30 and then when he does finally agree that we should go now he refuses to take his mother with us. You need o get food ready for fasting instructs her, stay at home. I know she wants to come, she agreed to when I asked her earlier but now Sharjeel is brow beating her into staying at home. As he continues his rant she looks to me for a response. Don’t force her I tell Sharjeel, let her make up her own mind before I turn to Samra and tell her that personally I would love her to come but it is her decision. Don’t force her Sharjeel retorts mimicking me. I’m not I reply burying the urge to wipe the smug grin of his face, unlike you I am giving her the chance to make up her own mind. All I have said is that I would like her to come but the decision is hers whereas you are telling her to stay at home, there is a difference you bonehead. At this he does what he always does when he has no reply, he tells me to stop talking, I’m doing his ears in. Samra finally makes up her mind and says she wants to come to the airport which is a relief for me, I do not want to be on my own with Sharjeel but I don’t think Sharjeel is liking the decision as much as I am but do I care? I think not. I hug Shumail and Yalmaaz goodbye and tell Yalmaaz that I want to see him in London very soon before getting into the car and head of to the airport.

It should only take half an hour to get to the airport at this time in the morning but what with being stopped by the police to be searched we arrive 45 minutes after we left. Parking up Sharjeel tells Samra to stay in the car but she is not having any of it and I back her up as Sharjeel leaves to get a trolley and then both of them walk me to the entrance. Anyone with out a valid ticket is not allowed inside so we say our goodbyes outside. It’s been an emotional day, arguing, finding photos of my father, the camera going missing and now saying goodbye I’m trying my best not to burst into tears. Saying goodbye last time was different, I knew I would be back, would be seeing them again but this time it is a different goodbye, I do not know if I will ever see Samra again. She will never come to London and I really do not want to come back to Pakistan, it’s not what I am searching for, it’s not my home. Giving Sharjeel a hug I return to hug Samra and then state the obvious to Sharjeel, we may not get on but that’s out relationship, we are both completely different people and no not agree on anything but still have a bond that will not break.

Right, I am going in I tell them and Sharjeel tells me he will be waiting out here until I return to let him know that all my stuff has been checked in, just in case something goes wrong with the extra 10kg allowance, at least they can take it back with them. Fighting my way through the crowd flocked outside I make it to the departure lounge and as I join the check in queue it’s 3.00, my flight leaves at 4.30. I then notice everyone is getting their luggage wrapped up in cling film before they join the queue so leave it and join the one for packing and for 240 rupees I get both my boxes wrapped up like a Christmas turkey. Rejoining the check in queue everything goes swimmingly; all my luggage is checked in, all 37 and a half kilos of it and I fight my way back to the entrance to try and get Sharjeel’s attention and seeing as he is waving back I think the job is done. Well at least there is one good thing about him, being tall does put him above the crowd and easier to spot. It’s then through x-rays and body searches before I make it to the departure gate waiting for my flight to be called which takes ages as the plane is huge, I have to wait patiently until my section of the plane is asked to board, I am in the 11th row from the front and they have started stocking up from the rear of the plane. Finally getting on I am impressed, spending the last 2 years on budget airlines I’d forgotten how swanky big international planes can be. I get my own TV to stop and start whenever I want and I get the window seat. This is going to be fun, I was going to catch up on some sleep but now I have plans for the 3 and a half hour journey.

The flight turns out to be over sooner then the Indian movie I was watching as the stewardess comes round and takes back the headphones. I’ll watch the ending on the next leg of the journey, for now I get of the plane and go through immigrations to collect my bags while trying to imagine what the girl in front of me was thinking when she got dressed this morning. Does she not know she is coming to an Islamic country? A miniskirt which barely covers her ass while standing, a stark contrast to everyone else who seems to be covered head to foot. Another thing I will never understand, call it one of life’s great mysteries, why do women insist of ripping their eyebrows off just to paint them back in again with a black pencil, it’s just not right, quite scary actually. Even though the plane was huge and packed it doesn’t take me long to collect my luggage as most of the other passengers are continuing on to America. An hour after landing on time I am in arrivals but there is no sign of Kathryn. Now what? Well she could be running late, she probably went tout drinking last night and overslept. I will give her half an hour before I start panicking or decide what to do. Standing around for half an hour I walk to the exit to take a look outside, she might be standing there but no so walk back to the hall and notice her sitting there, hangover in her own little world. She spots me soon after I clock her and we hug before she tells me the bloody obvious, she was out drinking last night and has only had 3 hours of sleep. It’s a half an hour drive to her’s and then straight to bed for both of us. Well her to bed, me to the sofa, I need some sleep too and we wake up again around 11.30, while I take a shower she makes me breakfast, poached eggs on toast with beans along with a huge mug of tea. I love you I tell her as I tuck in, proper Heinz beans

I get introduced to her flatmate who is also a teacher at the school Kathryn teaches at as well as also being hung-over but while Liza goes back to bed both Kathryn and I go out for a spin around Dubai and the to the latest shopping mall to have opened up in Dubai funnily enough called Dubai Mall. No we are not there for shopping but to see the huge aquarium at the heart of it. One of the worlds largest tanks at 51m x 20m x 11m and holds 10 million litres of water showcasing one of h most diverse collections of marine life. It has a 270 degree glass walkthrough tunnel and it costs 50 dirham to go in for a look which turns out to be awesome. Queuing up to get in we hand our tickets over and there’s that question. You Indian? The woman asks me. No I reply and get that all familiar stare, the one where they make it obviously clear they think I am lying. Why ask then! Walking in I am amazed, I have never seen anything like it; if you stand on a spot and sway your body to and fro from the galls you get the feeling of being seasick. Why I keep doing this I have no idea as it’s playing havoc with my head. I have to stand and lean on the glass if I want to look up as I keep getting the feeling I am going to fall over. This is better then drugs, The entrance fee also includes a visit to the underwater zoo where we get to see piranhas, giant catfish, otters, a penguin colony, seals plus a lot more. This is 50 dirham’s well spent.

Finishing the tourist thing by 4.00 we notice a Taco Bell, I’ve not been to a taco Bell in ages, must be around 10 years at least and surprisingly it is open and serving food. Usually all food establishments are closed in the hours of fasting, so even if you were tempted you couldn’t so anything about it, there is nowhere to get food. So seeing it is open we go line up and I get a taco while Kathryn orders a burrito but as we pay for it we are told we are not allowed to eat it here, take it home. I have to ask Kathryn if I have heard right and she repeats it to me, but look I say pointing to the people seated, they are sitting here and eating so why can’t we so me being me goes and takes a seat next to them and open up my food. Why is everybody starting at us? Kathryn asks as we dig in. no idea I reply but soon enough we do when a security guard comes over and tells me it is Ramadan, no eating. Yes but there are other people here eating I point out to him only to be told that they are children. Taking a look around he is right. That’s why we are being stared at, it’s only the kids that are eating, the grownups are sitting there looking miserable as sin. Well it’s not my problem if they want to starve themselves I think and before I can protest Kathryn cuts me short, let’s go she tells me people get arrested for arguing. Buggering hell, good thing that’s not the case in Asia otherwise I would have spent more time on the inside then outside. What’s with this nanny state? If people want to starve themselves go ahead but don’t force me into starving as well. Can’t they control themselves? What do they think is going to happen? A passing fasting person will fling themselves on my taco if they see me eating it. There is such a thing as self-control and if they can’t then either stay at home or don’t fast. It’s the fucking same, just because men can’t control their urges women have to cover themselves from head top foot, pray just incase a man gets tempted. That; the Muslim equivalent of she was asking for it if a woman wears something revealing. Rant over we finish our meal when we get home.

Fitting in a quick tea break we collect Liza and return out to the open to drive down to the souks and as we continue driving around Dubai Kathryn points out the more famous of its buildings. There is only one word I can use to describe Dubai, it’s obscene. Everything is not just something; it’s over the top something. It’s not just a train station it is a huge opera house size building and not even a masterpiece at that, it’s hideous. I hate it, I’ve not even been in Dubai for a whole day and I can honestly say I hate the place, it’s excessiveness to the extreme and to think less then 4 hours flight away there are people who live in makeshift houses by railway lines or under bridges trying to make it to the end of the day without dying. As I said it’s obscene and I do not like anything about this hypocritical country. We park up and what with Ramadan the opening times of the shops are all over the place, some shops are open but the majority are closed up but that doesn’t really matter as I do not think I will be doing any shopping in this country. The top that cost me 80p to get sewn up in Pakistan will cost me 10 pounds here. I am missing Pakistan already ;). We end up taking a water taxi (abra) over to the other side for 1 dirham each to check out India Street and the textile shops where Kathryn buys some material and then takes us to her tailors to hand them to him to make up into some tops. He along with everyone else who own a shop around here seems to come from India as do all the products at a very marked up price, and not only do the people and the items originate from India so does the selling technique. I thought I had left the come into my shop, treat your eyes and other such corny lines were a thing of the past but hey was I wrong. Returning to the other side we time it perfectly for when we are allowed to eat in public so chose a cheap and cheerful place to have dinner, which for me is a masala dosa and water, it’s the cheapest thing on the menu. I’m still trying to get used to paying more then 50p for a meal. The evening is spent walking trough the Gold souk with more Indians sliding up to us to try and sell us fake designer handbags before we pop into Kathryn’s jewellers where Lisa spends about 2 hours trying to agree on a design for her new ring, while she does that Kathryn and I check out the solitaire diamond rings. Some of them are really nice but the only time I am going to wear a diamond ring in my life is when a guy purchases it for me, otherwise never. I would rather spend that sort of money on camera gear.

That over with it’s time to head back and on the way we bump into another friend of Kathryn’s, also a teacher, Richard, gay and slightly camp and end up at the Ramada Hotel, just down the road from where Kathryn lives to enjoy a drink or two. Their Friday night is the equivalent of our Saturdays as their working weeks starts on a Sunday7. Something I think I could never get used to, Sundays are Sundays, a day of rest and dreading Monday. So keeping in the spirits of things I order a spirit to put in me, a vodka and orange followed by another vodka and orange and I think that is as much as I can handle as I am already starting to feel quite merry and slightly drunk. That feeling soon goes as I get my bill, 2 drinks have cost me 10 quid which isn’t bad by western standards but seeing as I was living on a tenner a day not so long ago it is a shock to the system. I am so glad I made this stopover in Dubai, it’s a gentle introduction back to western prices, and all I seem to be saying since I got here is how much! In a very high pitched voice. I have managed to spend a whole day’s budget I had in Asia on two drinks in Dubai, it is obscene. By 11.00 it’s time to drag myself back home and to bed, I also need to do something about this cough, it seems to be getting worse since I left Pakistan.