Before we arrived at that Bazaar, I noticed what would soon become the one familiar spot that I would look for in every big city we were in: The Chai Shop.
It is a well known fact that my favorite past time is spending time in a coffee shop sipping a cappuccino and talking with a friend. Just because I was in a different country didn’t mean that I was going to stop that tradition–the only difference was that I was going to be drinking sweetened chai instead of my typical capp.
It was a little obscure at first. I wasn’t quite sure what it was that I was looking at. There was a little open-air room off to my right with a huge steaming culdron of something and a flat plate that appeared to be used for cooking something. It wasn’t the sight of these things that grabbed my attention though, it was the four Pakistani men sitting inside the shop sipping liquid out of little off-white tea-cups, seemingly having a pleasant conversation. Those were all of the signs that I needed to know that this was what I was looking for.
I called to Jeff, Justin, and Ben and asked if they were hungry or thirsty. We hadn’t eaten anything since the naan several hours earlier, so all four of us decided that, since we needed to kill time, we would spend some time sipping chai.
Picture this:
You have never seen anyone in your life who looks differently than yourself. Your typical day is spent peddling goods in the downtown Bazaar of Manserah with intermittant tea breaks which you take in the exact same chai shop in the exact same chairs, with the exact same group of friends. You’ve done this for years and years without any change or disruption. Then, one day as you’re sitting there having a typical, “How’s your day going?” conversation, in walks four big foreigners smiling at you and taking a seat at a table next to you.
Let’s just say that we were show stoppers! Business came to a standstill in this little shop to the point that I was wondering if we had done something wrong. Suddenly, realization set in for the host and he ran to our table to try and figure out what it was that we wanted from him. I communicated (using the international sign-language for, “Can we have four cups of Chai please?”) that we were interested in a beverage.
Where I’m from, eating establishments are graded with a letter grade (A-F) for criteria such as cleanliness, service, food quality, etc. Almost everywhere you go, you’ll see an “A” posted in the window. This might seem ridiculous, but it helps to keep the quality high. You don’t want to be the establishment with a “B” posted in your window. You simply won’t get any business.
Also–we were told to be very careful when eating to drink filtered water only and to drink from clean cups.
All of that went out the window within our first couple of hours in Pakistan. I’m not sure what letter grade this particular shop would have gotten–who cares really? First of all, they dipped our used tea cups in dirty dishwater and then, without drying them off, filled them with our chai and delivered them to our table. We all looked at each other and smiled, “Bottoms up fellas!”
Let me tell you about the chai in Pakistan. You may have experienced this drink in your local coffee shop. If not, sweetened chai tastes simliar to what a cinnamony pumpkin pie would taste like (without the crust of course) as a drink. I thought that I had experienced good chai in my life here in America. Was I ever wrong. Compared to the chai in Pakistan, chai in America is like lukewarm, dirty bathwater! This particular cinnamon flavored beverage was so tastey that we all ordered seconds along with what the four guys sitting next to us were eating. It looked good, we were hungry–so I ordered us a plate-full. A bit risky–sure–but I’m glad that we did because it was our last experience with meat for the next several days.
It was in this coffee shop that I realized something very important. People of different cultures like it when you attempt to do things their way. You might feel out of place trying, but it is certainly worth it. I had noticed that our new friends sitting next to us would tear their naan and use it as a dipping device to scoop up their stew. I followed suit and instantly new that it was a good move as I heard laughs of encouragement coming from next door.
Our next job was to locate a gas stove so that we could become self-sufficient and have the ability to rough it wherever we might end up. Upon paying and leaving our chai shop, I went across the street because I thought that I had seen propane tanks in a shop. As soon as I walked in, I was surrounded by nearly 50 men who wanted to see why I had stepped inside. Suprisingly, the shop keeper spoke a touch of English and I was able to explain to him exactly what it was that we were looking for. Once he understood and realized that he didn’t have it, he shocked my be offering to walk us downtown to find exactly what we needed.
When was the last time that happened to you in America?
Before we knew it, we had a tour guide to the heart of the city who knew a little bit of our language and all of his, including his way around the Bazaar. Sure enough, he brought us directly to a store that carried the stoves and helped me to explain and barter for the correct one. Again, while we were standing there, we were surrounded by curious passerbys trying to get a look at the goings-on inside (much to the this shop-keeper’s delight).
As soon as we had our stove secured and filled with propane we were on our way back to headquarters. Upon returning, Justin informed us that he thought it would be a good idea if he bounced off of our team because he was going to be staying in Pakistan a couple of days longer than us. He figured that he would find a team of guys that had the same timeline as him. We thought it sounded like a good idea, but were a little bummed to be a man down–suddenly we were a team of three.
Five minutes later, the director came out and announced that he needed a team of three to be packed and ready to go in fifteen minutes. Jeff looked up and said, “I’m the leader of a team of three–we could go.”
Ben and I weren’t around when this was happening. We had gone over to our packs and were beginning to get settled in, thinking that we were there for a couple of days. I noticed Jeff with a smile on his face walking toward us. “Pack your bags fellas.” he said, “We leave in ten minutes.”