This is the wet season here in Quetta. It certainly doesn’t compare to Vancouver’s wet season, is happening now on the other side of the world. It is raining lightly here and there is a wind. It isn’t enough to stop Carlos and I from going out for a walk after breakfast at the Boys & Girls Club, but it is enough to delay his departure until tomorrow.
Kate and Stephen sat with us during breakfast, only because of Carlos I suppose, to see him off. That was uncharacteristically thoughtful of them. He ran into them yesterday and told them he would leave for NW frontier this morning. Perhaps Coen and Vincent will arrive today and he can say goodbye to them too, although he only spent half a day with them so I suppose that doesn’t matter to him.
So we are walking around the central core looking for things of interest. There are a few mosques, but not of the dazzling character I found in Istanbul, Esfahan or even Kayseri. It doesn’t matter as my camera is still jammed with desert dust. Last night, I took out the roll of slide film I had in it to see if I could clean it somewhat myself. I can get the film to advance but I think there is a problem with my shutter, which sometimes opens. Regardless, there isn’t much to take remarkable pictures of here. We look around for a camera or electronics shop, but the only repair place I see doesn’t specialize in cameras. I think it would be safer to wait until I am in a bigger city, like Rawalpindi or Lahore. I am also in the lookout for a used bookstore. There are a few of those but the only books they have in English are school textbooks. No thanks. I do browse through them in the store though. They look archaic.
The rain lets up in the afternoon. I have my first falafel as my digestive system in growing stronger. It goes down like an offering from Heaven. I worry a lot about Vincent and Coen and how they are managing. The manager of the Boys and Girls Club agrees to call the manager of their branch in Nushki to ask if Vincent is still staying there. The manager in Nushki returns a call after dinner, saying that he is and that Coen has just left the hospital. They will be checking out tomorrow.
Life is good once again. I am thrilled to know they are coming tomorrow and that Coen is OK, or at least OK enough to travel. It occurs to me this evening that tomorrow will be a week away from Christmas. I had almost forgotten this. In spite of the cold air at night, there is nothing Christmasy about this staunchly Muslim part of the world, other than the desert buses which I haven’t seen here. Mom will be worried about me having a good Christmas, though I rarely do anymore when I am at home in Canada.
PHOTO: shoppers on Quetta
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