From Saidpur Zulfiqar and I drove to Lok Virsa, Pakistan’s Heritage Museum. Zulfiqar said to me, “Please take your time. Your visit to Pakistan will be enhanced by the learning inside.” That was an understatement. Growing up in the US Midwest I had healthy doses of Native American and Immigrant History instruction; and over the two decades we lived in Washington, DC availed myself of the outstanding exhibits at the Smithsonian to piece together my home country’s cultural heritage. I try to do the same here in Vienna, but there are just so. many. Hapsburgs that I still need my family tree card now and again to make sense of it.
I left a pair of linen pants to be laundered before heading to breakfast with Tony. After the long flight they were misshapen and coated with flight funk and I wanted them fresh for my return. Laundry cost, €2.86 equivalent. A gal could get used to this. Continue reading “Dangerous Days in Pakistan. Tea Time”
With a little help from the Concierge I was able to track down Zulfiqar, my driver/guide. He had simply gone away for the weekend, but was fully committed to being at my service for the next four days. Phew.
Now that I have your attention… 😉 I’ll just run with this spoiler: the extraordinary hospitality and friendliness of the Pakistani people is dangerously addictive; their cuisine, even more so. Leaving Pakistan was like wishing a good friend farewell, my heart heavy wondering when I might return.
A little early for the Marillen blooms, but that was fine by us.
A little wander a couple of weeks ago around the former grounds of a royal Liechtenstein, sold to the Royal and Imperial Baker Demel founder (August Dehne), then sold again to a non-royal Austrian actor in the interwar years, and now a park managed by the city of Vienna. So much history.
Liesing was formed after the Anschluss; following the allied occupation the district was partitioned to Lower Austria (and was under Soviet occupation). In 1954, Liesing and its exurbs returned to Vienna to become the 23rd of the city’s 23 districts.
While on an out-and-about last week I found myself in Leopoldstadt, Vienna’s predominantly Jewish district. I decided to walk around part of the Path of Remembrance, a project that traces the deportation of Jewish persons with Stolpersteine, remembrance stones. It is not necessary to read German to understand what happened to a group of people reduced to nearly non-existence by the end of WWII.