zahratravels
Zahra Travels
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Sorry For Being a Shitty Daughter Ft. Ottawa’s 2017 Tulip Festival
My mom and I drove down to Ottawa this Mother’s Day weekend to help my little sister move back to Toronto. I slept the entire way while my mom drove and answered emails while she packed. I boost feminism and the power of women often but I’ll be the first to cringe when my mom asks to take pictures with her daughters. When we went to Byward Market to check out the city’s Tulip Festival preparations, SHE bought me this gorgeous handmade necklace and I ditched her Mother’s Day dinner to hangout with my friends that evening.
I’ve never been the mushy family person, I didn’t even cry at my sister’s wedding. My small family, especially my mother, has always been there for me and I’ve somehow always brushed it off. I even blocked her on social media. Again, I didn’t get her anything on Mother’s Day. I’m such a moron that I posted a picture of just myself wishing other people a Happy Mother’s Day and not my own mother.
So here is all I can do: write, though I know it makes up for nothing we put you through.
Dear mama, my inspiration, my flower, my everything,
So many people ask me how I manage to globe hop this often and 100% of the credit goes to you. If you didn’t make the first move to travel to this beautiful country, I would have never had this passport or these opportunities. If you didn’t exemplify yourself for me to see the reward of hard work, I would have never pushed for my dreams or completed school. Without you, I would have lacked the confidence to learn new languages and would have always been cold or wet (you're always right when you tell me to bring a jacket or umbrella).
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for throwing away the milk you worked so hard to buy, I realize it’s importance when my body aches at night. I’m sorry for coming home late when I knew you waited for me passing time on the couch with those bloody infomercials. I’m sorry for loosing all the pretty matching accessories you gave me, they were crowns of my queen, and you let me off without apology. I’m sorry for leaving our nest so often but I’m sorrier for not calling when I know I’m flying on your wings.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you for hovering over me to take my meds because I didn’t listen to you about taking care of myself. Thank you for picking me up in dark hours when you begged me to come home in light. Thank you for still trusting me with your irreplaceable jewels of power, patience, and persistence. Thank you for rebuilding your wings I carelessly speed with and thank you for always welcoming me back with open arms.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
You forgive like flowers and plant seeds where it hurts, you let us blossom when there is nothing but rain in our hearts and dirt in our bones. My being celebrates every moment of your rooted resistance and worships every inch of the shade you shelter us with. Happy Mother’s Day mama.
Your (still learning to spring) flower,
Zahra.
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“Cuba Body” & Tips For Cheap Travel Fashion Essentials
Do you feel like you dress better when you travel or is that just me? For shorter trips, I plan my outfits to the T so I don’t over pack. For Cuba, I refused to pack pants because I hate them so much. Pants, especially in hotter climates, are torturous. As you guys know, I like to thrift travel so being comfortable enough to walk long distances for free is key.
When we decided we were going to Cuba, Banin and I met several times a week and worked out like never before. Every time I’d try to eat junk or skip a meal or chicken out of a squat set, Banin would repeat the “Cuba body” mantra to get me back on track. I’ve always been a gym rat as a runner but dedicating 4 days a week over the past three months to specific body parts was extremely helpful in order to see results.
I quickly realized I didn’t have enough choice in my closet to celebrate my body. I felt like the #firstworldproblems version of Cinderella trying to go to the ball in rags. I had to be super creative to achieve this so here is me sharing some tips to make your travel wardrobe look new, cute, and comfortable for cheap.
Note: None of these clothes are name brands and are all under $10, borrowed, or given as gifts.
Go through your closet
Trust me, you have the staples in there. Neutrals and solids are the way to go because they’re so easy to mix and match. When you only have a carry-on, you cannot afford to pack multiple signature pieces. Rompers are great for this because it's an entire outfit in one piece (only tricky when you have to pee and end up completely naked in a public washroom).
Go through your sister/mother/friend’s closet
I’m so lucky my sister has a solid fashion sense and lets me borrow her clothes from half way across the world. Both the crop and skirt are hers. Though I didn’t repeat the skirt, I did mix the crop with my beach skirt as casual evening wear.
White t and jean shorts go a long way
I had the white t, but not the shorts. Luckily, Banin let me borrow hers and this was probably my favorite outfit all week because it was so comfortable.
Never compromise on shoes
I usually take my New Balance running shoes but they don’t photograph well at all. These high top Converse knock-offs, on the other hand, are comfy and versatile. I’m not a big flip flop tan fan so I find these perfect to keep your feet one color.
Pack extra hair ties
Some countries don’t have a surplus of water so quick body showers are much easier with hair ties. Banin and I shared a hair tie because she forgot to pack one.
A staple black strap on bag is a must
Can’t emphasize this enough. I bought this bag 5 years ago and I’ve taken it to every single trip with me. It's leather and therefore water proof and the cross body strap allows me to shop and dance hands-free!
Repeating an outfit is not the end of the world
I wore this dress three times that week. The last time was with a lot of perfume.
Value Village!
After packing, when I realize I don’t have something I really need, Value Village always does. In this case, it was this cover-up and another baseball cap. I also wore this EXACT outfit in Rio two years ago.
Pack a light jacket
I only packed for Cuba weather and when we got to Chicago, we were the only idiots in summer dresses while people beside us wore Canada Goose. We called this look “literally underdressed and figuratively overdressed”.
I am by no means a fashion guru and the way we dress changes in different cultures and climates. But as a person who packs a lot, I hope these tips help for a summer look. Also, let me know if you have any other tips I should include!
HAPPY PACKING!
#cuba#fashion#travel fashion#packing tips#summer body#gym#travel tips#women's fashion#chicago#miami#travel#zahra travels
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Zahra Time Travels in Cuba
As a child going through my parent’s black and white high school pictures, I assumed that's how life was back in the day: colorless. Regardless of 10-year-old Zahra’s imagination being shattered when her mum told her she was an idiot for thinking so, reality finally settled in in Cuba. I never thought time traveling would be possible in my lifetime but here I am today, totally jaw-dropped at how history, politics, and structures have been preserved through time in a country like no other.
Cuba is a cliche when it comes to tourism as it receives over 4 million arrivals annually which is one of the main sources of revenue for the island. If a resort in Varadero is not your calling, Havana is a must for a more Cuban experience.
Wifi/Technology
Due to the lack of accessibility of internet in the country (communism, remember?), it was surreal to see people NOT on their phones when walking down the streets. The only technology seen out was the occasional camera in a tourist’s neck. Restaurants and clubs didn’t have any lavish social media handles advertised nor were websites to check reservations a thing.
At the same time, I found myself pushing to sharpen my Spanish listening skills and genuinely enjoyed every moment because I didn’t have to worry about constantly using the translation app. We did, however, download an offline map to help but navigation consisted of us asking kind strangers on the streets for help (and always getting it).
In order to use the internet in Cuba, we had to buy an “hour card” for 3 CUC at certain squares in the city which activated the wifi. We made friends with a local who led us to the bicycle boys at the corner of our street who as a “side business” sold wifi for 1 CUC!
Cars
I can't even drive but I often found myself fangirling over the shiny Ford models from the 50s. It felt like I was in a movie. Imagine any color, Havana had it (yes, even white with pink polka dots). We’d planned to rent a convertible and go around the city but we quickly realized how much of an expense that could be.
Tourists doing that looked totally douchey in their golf shirts and sun hats with orbits the size of Saturn’s rings. Instead, we posed next to parked cars for pictures (which was equally douchey).
Art
I’ve always been a SUCKER for sexy graffiti and when you add poetry to that, it really gets me going. I remember signing out poetry books by Ernest Hemingway and trying to learn Spanish from Pablo Neruda. What I’d learned from literature and history courses finally presented itself in real life. Everywhere we went, there were quotes and drawings of writers and painters.
The neighborhood we lived in particularly loved Salvador and his work was plastered all over the walls. These were some of my favs.
“I’d die with you, but not for you.” - Salvador
“I can wait longer than you because I am the time.” - Salvador
“Life is a step, death is a career”
The first day, we rushed over to La Bodeguita Del Medio, the place that lays claim to giving birth to the Mojito.
Numerous writers, artists, and celebrities were regulars of the Bodeguita: personalities like Pablo Neruda, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Nat King Cole, Julio Cortázar, Joan Manuel Serrat, Ernest Hemingway, and Salvador Allende patronized it. The rooms were full of curious objects, frames, photos, and the walls covered by signatures of famous or unknown customers, recounting the island’s past.
Not going to lie, the Bodeguita was SUPER touristy and the mojito wasn’t the best but being in the presence of literary geniuses felt magical.
Afro-Cuban Music
I’ve been a fan of Buena Vista Social Club (BVSC) since I started dancing salsa. Our Airbnb hosts insisted we go to the BVSC concert, it was 60 CUC and a complete tourist trap. Though I enjoyed the show, it was not worth the amount we paid and the attendance solely consisted of rich retired European couples.
Nonetheless, Cuban music is so much more. The streets of Centro and Old Havana are bouncing with tunes of reggaeton at any time of the day. There would seldom be a restaurant that did not have a live band playing. Street musicians sang at the sea side of Malecon and everyone jumped at the opportunity to teach us a couple of salsa moves.
We did end up going to an underground salsa club with local friends to recover from the first night of the tourist trap. It was muy caliente.
Lack of Globalization
Perhaps one of the biggest sensors of time travel was this. There were no name brands aside from clothes which once in awhile featured a Nike or Adidas logo here or there. I’m talking no McDonalds or KFC or Gucci or Prada stores. What was sold in Cuba, was made in Cuba.
Food
It wasn’t weird after a while to be refused a dish on the menu because the restaurant did not have certain ingredients. We’d been eating pizza for several meals in a row because it catered simple ingredients and was sometimes the only thing we knew on the board. However, we did find this whole in the wall cafe we went to 5 days in a row. The waiters and bartenders at Cafe Brown became such lovely friends, 5/5, would surely recommend, and when we were offered a chance to indulge in rice and beans with plantain, there was no hesitation.
Architecture
After the revolution, a lot of the bungalows owned by high Cuban society were abandoned as they fled for Florida. The same structures live on as embassies and hotels now.
There aren't many high rises which make it extremely gratifying to look onto your balcony and not have the view blocked by a concrete jungle. What I love most about Latin and Caribbean cultures is that, even in poverty, homes are as inviting as ever. Most walls have a fresh coat of a bright paint which instantly brings positivity into your heart.
Viva la Revolution
The Cuban revolution took place over half a century ago but the spirit is very much alive. Flags are painted on every wall and pictures of Che and Fidel are proudly hung in some homes and businesses.
Many people in the west aren't the fondest of tourists but Cubans greeted us with smiles anywhere we went. Even if there wasn’t an English speaker around, people invited us in for coffee and pizza. When we asked, locals gave us directions to places we’d enjoy that weren’t just tourist hubs. Cuba is not only alluring due to its ability to stop the clock, but it’s people make it what it is.
#cuba#travel#traveling#zahratravels#havana#spanish#carribean#vacation#grad trip#politics#time travel
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I Asked Toronto Out Again & She Sent Nudes
As I was scrolling through my pictures, I noticed I had a lot of travel companions, but someone I cared most about was missing: Toronto. Zahra Travels started with the anticipation of empowering others to “date their cities” because travel’s essence lies in experiencing something new, whether it's across the world or the street. In the hype of being international, I neglected my local.
Nonetheless, there is nothing I enjoy more than feeling new in a used to space. Last year, I was a lot better at scavenging cute cafes and finding local happy places. However, like any relationship, between work and school, I let an old and important flame faint.
I talked about change and closure last week but I kept feeling like something was missing, there was a constant yearning for my favorite partner in crime, my own city.
After handing in my last undergraduate essay, I found the courage to ask Toronto out again. Toronto, being ever so forgiving, accepted the proposal. Both of us have been working on our summer bodies and it only makes sense that we come together to celebrate the season.
Here are some nudes Toronto sent my way:
I took her for a coffee date at Versus and slipped a heart in her latte, bitches love hearts in their lattes.
Followed that by a photo shoot with the cherry blossoms at UofT’s Robarts Library on our way to Centre Island:
Then, to seal the deal, we celebrated the sunset with a walk down Harbourfront...
Next thing you know, Toronto spent the night and me being the gentleman I am, Itook her for breakfast at Bombay Street Food.
So yeah, we’re back together again, until I cheat on her with Cuba tomorrow. Also, I’m going to Cuba tomorrow.
#toronto#dating#ontario#harbourfront#versus coffee#latte#cherry blossom#centre island#travel#exploring toronto#6ix#zahra travels
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“I am not your exotic country, knowing me does not make you a traveler”
Thank you, Pavana for putting into words something I’ve felt in my heart for a long time.
Traveling has its fair share of social gatherings and everyone brings their A game to later slide into your DMs (and eventually other places). As I started attending more of these things, I noticed a weird pattern taking shape. I still hear echoes of the same pickup lines today and the conversations usually go something like this:
*Upon realization, I am not a local*
Dude: Hi!
Me: Hey!
Dude: So, where are you from?
Me: Canada.
Dude: Hmm...but you're not....
Me: Not white? I was born in Pakistan.
Dude: Oh, wow, Pakistan! I’ve never kissed a Pakistani girl before!
Me: ...
When I first heard it at a party in Brazil, I thought the guy was a pretty slick flirt. After multiple interactions with this line and its cousin versions replacing “kissed” with “dated” or even “fucked”, I realized just how absurd and ignorant it all sounded. It later occurred to me that the only reason they might have even slightly shown an interest in me was because they wanted to check something off a list rather than get to know me as a person.
It's like saying “I’m not racist, I have a *person of color* friend” when bragging about “I hooked up with/dated this *person of color*, I can’t be racist.”
As much as we’d like to think so, this is not only a problem for small towns that lack diversity. Even in the most multicultural cities, I am often fetishized for details on how my parents are so strict and how rebellious it would be to be with me because it's outside the norm of their social circles.
What we need to understand is that an individual is not a token for an entire culture. I’ve had professors personally pick on me when discussing terrorism in class because of my skin color. It felt like they were almost waiting for an insight or an apology of some sort because apparently, I speak for an entire nation or religion.
And can we also just acknowledge how cringe worthy the word “exotic” is? When you call someone exotic, you are polarizing them. You are using the “us” vs. ”them” card to further other and isolate a population. “Exotic” implies being not white as something strange and different from the norm, or in other words, signaling POC are not normal.
It also doesn't help that this is often said to us by white men who are insinuating sexual undertones. Racial women become sexualized commodities meant for the consumption of white men who simultaneously dehumanize us and put us on the pedestal known as “exotic”.
Building relationships with diverse people is not a crime, hell, I'll be the first to encourage it. However, there are better ways of getting to know someone. Understanding that an individual is a person before they are of whatever ethnicity or nationality is essential in order to build respect between people.
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Change is not good or bad, it's simply needed
Lately, I’ve been struggling intensively with attempts to close several chapters in my life. It all feels a lot like a book you’re so physically invested in that you don’t want to turn the last page in fear of an unexpected ending.
The brink of graduation has been the same. I can see it on the horizon but I want to stay in my play pretend. The thought of not constantly being busy in the city and starting all over cripples my insides.
So when it finally occurred to me that this was it, these were my final weeks in a place I spent more time in than home, I realized it was time to embrace change, whether I liked it or not. I wrote 4 cover letters in one night, waited for acceptances like it was my birthday, and felt rejected like the person I love the most in the world didn’t wish me.
I feel somewhat defeated and greatly burnt out.
Moving on has never been my strong suit, but I’m not sure if it’s anyone’s because more than change, we’re afraid of the unknown. It’s hard to accept an end of an era. Nostalgia becomes a bitch everytime you try to overcome denial, especially before bed.
Down the road somehow, four years of being on time and twice as productive and thrice as hard working during my undergrad career became a way of life instead of a phase. Now, with no masters acceptances or job offers, here’s me taking a seat and letting shit happen. Failing some assignments, ending some relationships, canceling some trips, and letting change take the wheel.
Note: Taking a breather is not giving up. It is refueling to come back stronger and better. Not having a to z figured out is okay.
What I’ve learned is that change doesn't have to always be a bang, it can also be a whimper. I don’t know if it's therapeutic for me to accept taking a rest or stupid of me to not panic for not diving head first into another chapter immediately, but whatever it is, it's needed. Because if we don’t change, we don’t grow, and if we don’t grow, we’re not living.
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8 Things That Are Actually Really Big in Texas
In the words of President Trump, they’re HUUUGE.
Last week, I flew to Dallas to attend my cousin’s wedding. I’d been to Houston in 2015 and I hated it because it was really hot and I’m Canadian. Anyways, being 5’2” in a Dallas suburb left me conflicted on whether everything in the Lone Star State was really big or if I was just really... different. So, this second time around, I was sure to take pictures of things that didn't fit in my phone’s viewfinder. Here’s a bunch of really big stuff I found.
Land
Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio are three of the US's top 10 most populous cities. The state itself is huge, being 695,662 km² with a population of about 27 million people. This makes it roughly 3 times as large as the entire United Kingdom put together.
Freeways
Having established the vastness of Texas, it makes sense that there are highways to get around, especially the confusing President George Bush Turnpike. This is the Bush state after all. Both Bush Sr. and Jr. call Texas home. It was a maze of concrete and I could sense a tease of hesitation even when the GPS lady directed.
Cars
This is my sister beside a truck. Tell me it doesn't look like the truck is going to pivot and eat her (I hoped it would). This is also something that popped up when we ordered an Uber. Fact: the Ford F150 and the Chevrolet Silverado are the most common vehicles in Texas. Now you know.
Patriotism
Most places in America are patriotic, but Texas folks is a whole other ball game. Not only are there really big American flags in every plaza, but they’re paired with the Lone Star Texan flag. In case everyone forget which state they were in at every intersection.
Cowboy stuff
This happened. We didn’t go to any rodeos but why bother when you can let cows watch you sleep. Our Airbnb was decked out with these “unique” paintings.
Stores for “one thing”
I’m not sure if this is only because we were staying in a suburb but seriously, this store continues for 3 more windows.
This big “O” thing
It’s bigger than the Toronto “O”s AND it makes cool echoes.
This weird big eye
I don't even know what to say. There’s just a random eyeball in the middle of downtown, Dallas.
I hope you learned stuff if you made it this far into the post.
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Ice Fishing in Georgina: Learning the Importance of Adventure Over Location
When I first got into traveling, I thought it meant hopping on a plane and going as far as you could to another metropolitan. Only recently have I learned the beauty of my own backyard.
I count my lucky stars every day because I’m so blessed to be in such a beautiful country like Canada. Without even leaving its borders, we can experience the world. I realized this first in January 2016 when I went out west to Vancouver and Victoria. The vast mountains and forests often got me so frustrated because I couldn't fit it all into my viewfinder - so I just put the camera down and kept my eyes up to take it all in.
Since then, I’ve taken a pledge to travel more in Canada, more importantly in Ontario (it also fits into my bored n’ broke plan of not being able to afford a plane ticket at the moment). Hamilton, Tobermory, Ottawa, and Saint Catherine’s were all part of this promise.
Through my internship and Ontario’s Central Counties, I traveled an hour up north to the lovely little Town of Georgina. I had the opportunity to stay in the historic landmark at the Briar’s Resort and check out some of the local activities.
We met with some First Nations Chippewa women who shared their culture and ideas about incorporating tourism and Native education. I also got to see a traditional Jingle Dress Dance performance and listen to Native songs.
Of course, I had to go ice fishing. Georgina is famous for ice fishing on Lake Simcoe and it was every Canadian stereotype come true: a bunch of heavily layered folks getting on their ski-doos and spending hours and hours staring into the cold, cold water waiting for a meal.
I caught my first and only fish just 10 mins in. They say it usually takes a couple of hours and even then many come back empty handed so I considered it a pat on my back.
Later that afternoon, I found myself sliding down the ROC’s massive hill in a giant doughnut, they call it snow tubing. Result: A peak in adrenaline and a really sore bum.
We wrapped up by getting a tour of the Clear Water Farms where local foods are grown and hear about some cool initiatives they’re organizing to get kids into agriculture again.
Cool thing #3847934 on this trip: Chef Cori
Turns out she was a graduate from the same program as me and worked in the media industry for decades in Toronto. After moving to Georgina, she found her passion for cooking and since has cooked side by side Chef Lynn Crawford and had CHEF RAMSEY (my ultimate celebrity crush) cook for her.
She and her team of students cooked us an incredibly fresh meal from locally sourced farm foods. My personal favorite: her famous Tomato Basil Soup…. yummm..
Better understanding culture, going on adventures, trying new foods, and meeting community heroes is travel, no matter where you do it. Learning and having new experiences has now taken priority over travel. There are so many things happening in localities all around us and we think of going to New York as an escape. If you get a chance, I highly recommend making the hour drive for the weekend.
Here’s a short video I made to document my travels to Georgina, check it out!
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The Prettiest Airbnb I’ve Ever Stayed In
For a girl who's gotten lucky with stays in heavenly hotels, hip hostels, and hearty homestays, this one was by far a winner. Our one night stop in Saint Catharines, Ontario was a really small part of the travel schedule. It was a quick walk away from the bus stop and downtown Saint Catherine.
The owners, Krys and Mark, are both professional artists and it really did show in their home. From the gardens to architecture to interior to culinary, it all created a cosmo of their lives as people dedicated to art.
We stayed in Krys’s studio attached to the house with a bridge to cater the ultimate privacy.
The white walls were decorated with beautiful art pieces to keep your eyes company while crossing the liminal of consciousness to sleep on the soft and cozy bed.
This is one of my first trips that I spent more time indoors than out exploring. We had such a good time, we did an entire photo shoot as soon as we got in.
Goodbyes are hard, but it made it so much easier with the fluffy mushroom and cheese omelet that Krys prepared for us at 8 am!
She even gave us complimentary chocolates and tour tickets! Best of all, they gave us a story to tell.
If you ever find yourself in Saint Catherine's, check them out!
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What a #MuslimBan Means to a Muslim Travel Blogger
I was originally going to post about my cool new haircut but this week has been quite shitty.
Being denied entry into countries is nothing new as a Pakistani passport holder. After all, we do have the second least appreciated documents on the planet. Having the privilege to also be Canadian, I climbed up the ranks to the 5th best passport position around a decade ago.
Growing up Muslim, offering shukur (thanks), in any situation, had always been a capitalized value. Any night I go to bed with an extreme emotion - happy or sad - I remind myself of how lucky I am to be in a country that feels safe, even if it doesn't feel fully like home. On Monday night, after the shooting at the Quebec mosque, I couldn’t even do that.
Travel is something heavily encouraged by the Prophet Mohammed and an entire slice of the Islamic pizza is dedicated to just hajj (pilgrimage). I got my first dose of the travel bug when my mom sent my sisters and I to Egypt and Palestine in 2012 to learn and explore the architecture and history of the Islamic world. My 16 year old self actually thought about running away from our hotel in Cairo and starting a new life.
Despite the conflict in the Middle East or the Arab Spring taking place, I explored with an open mind. Seeing other religions peacefully practicing woke a curiosity in me to continue to travel and meet different people.
From the seven countries currently ban from the US; Iraq, Syria, and Yemen are places my family travels often. For Shia Muslims, these countries house histories, shrines, and mosques people from across the world come to see and pray in.
What's the point of all this? The point is that travel, to me, is more than a hobby, it's part of my culture and my faith.
In solidarity with my fellow Muslims, immigrants, dual citizens and PRs in North America, let me drop some beauty on your travel bucket list.
Iraq: Babil Iraq
Babylon was the "holy city" of Babylonia from around 2300 BC and the seat of the Neo-Babylonian Empire from 612 BC. Babylon was an important city, both politically and aesthetically, ruled by Hammurabi and Nebuchadnezzar II. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
Iran: Nasir al Molk Mosque
The Nasir-al-Molk Mosque, also known as the Pink Mosque, is a traditional mosque for the outside in Shiraz, built from 1876 to 1888. The multitude of stained glass windows turns the inside of the mosque into a riotous wonderland of color that is absolutely breathtaking. You can only see the light through the stained glass in the early morning. It was built to catch the morning sun falling over the tightly woven Persian carpet.
Yemen: Dar al-Hajar, the Rock Palace
Perched atop a rock pinnacle at the famous Wadi Dhahr Valley, some 15 km away from the capital city of Sana'a, Yemen, is Dar al-Hajar, better known as the Imam's Rock Palace. What makes the building so attractive is perhaps because it is exemplary of Yemeni architecture. It seems to grow out of the rocks on which it is constructed, and it has the characteristic painting of its windows and edges. Furthermore, it stands all alone in an oasis of green and quiet, which is the wadi.
Somalia: Laas Geel
Thousands of years ago, humans from the Neolithic age, decorated the walls of rock shelters with paintings of animals and humans at Laas Geel. The caves provide a glimpse into the little-known history of this part of the world. Even with the history of political instability, war, and natural weathering, the paintings have survived intact, retaining their clear outlines and vibrant colors. They are thought to be among the best and oldest preserved rock paintings in Africa.
Sudan: Lake Nasser
Lake Nasser is a vast reservoir in southern Egypt and northern Sudan. It is one of the largest man-made lakes in the world. Before construction, Sudan was against the building of Lake Nasser because it would encroach on land in the North, where the Nubian people lived. They would have to be resettled. In the end, Sudan's land near the area of Lake Nasser was mostly flooded by the lake. Lake Nasser refers only to the much larger portion of the lake that is in Egyptian territory (83% of the total), with the Sudanese preferring to call their smaller body of water Lake Nubia.
Libya: Leptis Magna, Khoms
Leptis Magna was the biggest city of old Rome in Libya. Magna was established in tenth century BC by Phoenicians. A standout amongst the most conspicuous structures left in the destroyed city is the theater. Additionally, in Leptis Magna is the Hadrianic Baths, one of the biggest showers assembled by aged Rome.
Syria: Azm Palace
Azm Palace is the largest and arguably the most beautiful of the Damascene courtyard homes. It was built in 1749 by the governor of Damascus, As’ad Pasha al-Azem. It’s fashioned in the typical Damascene style of striped stonework, which is achieved by alternating layers of black basalt and limestone. The rooms of the palace are magnificent, decorated with inlaid tile work and exquisitely painted ceilings. The palace now houses the Museum of Arts and Popular Traditions.
#syria#iraq#iran#sudan#libya#yemen#somalia#muslim#muslimban#nomuslimban#canada#travel#passport#pakistan#bucketlist#immigrant#immigration
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An Open Letter to My Brother-in-law
Hey bro,
When we moved to Canada in 2005, our family reduced to 5 from 8. Then to 4, then 3 after Batool left for university, and now we’re just 2, thanks to you. It’s okay, I forgive you for taking what never cuddled back, even after 21 years of sharing a bed.
There are just a few things I want to let you know about this arrangement now that you’ve dropped a whole lotta cash showing your commitment to love her and stuff.
Fatema is a little shit. But you already knew that.
She is a master Instagram filter picker. Always show her the photo before posting. Language filters, on the other hand, good luck.
She’s really good at spending money – her own money, nonetheless. The Khozemas are strong independent women who don’t need no man. Speaking of doing things on her own, don’t be offended if she can carry all the bags when you guys travel. She may look small but I’m sure she can lift you too.
Fatema also does this thing where she’ll sing along to every song in the car 0.4 seconds after the artist because she doesn’t know the lyrics, but mostly to piss the shit out of you.
Bro, I like you because you’re sort of like me: cute and suffering from hair loss. You’re lucky though because Fatema is really good at fashion stuff. I’m actually giving you my personal stylist. Every graduation, party, and experimental YouTube hair and make-up video prototype was me. I just realized, no more “Happy Zahra because Fatema is passing her hand-me-downs over” days. Urgh.
Fatema has a scary a f poker face, maybe because she’s always been the best liar in the family. Just know that whatever stupid shit you do, she’ll have your ass covered with a bomb excuse. Trust me, I know.
Fatema talks in her sleep. A lot. Lowkey, I’m so scared of that Monjulika shit. You never know what secret she’s going to out.
She walks really fast. You’ll probably need to hit the gym to keep up. Whenever we walked home from school or went to get our eyebrows done a block over, she’d always walk in front of me. I thought she hated me but I think she was just embarrassed because I have short legs.
Anyways, now that you’ve done this to yourself, best of luck.
P.S. she’s going to put makeup on you at some point, just saying.
P.S you guys are kinda cute.
xoxo,
Zahra
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#wedding#marriage#bride#groom#pakistan#travel#destination wedding#brother in law#family#karachi#sister#shaadi#muslim#muslim wedding#desi wedding
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December Diaries Part 3: 10 Touristy Things to do in NYC with your BFF
1. Go with your best friend
Meet Sara, my high school sweetheart and my third sister who moved to Ottawa for university. Traveling with my BFF was on my bucket list for a while and we wanted to celebrate the end of a semester, and my birthday together. Most importantly, we wanted to catch up on a friendship separated by distance.
2. Get a flat tire in the first hour of your drive
Merci God for kind old French truckers, seriously.
3. Flirt with cute border security officers
Bonjour hello to you too, sir. Hon hon hon, love me some baguette.
4. Stay in a neighborhood far from Downtown
It was cheap so we thought we could just use the subway to get downtown. The Airbnb’s host said it would be 30 mins but it was over an hour commute.
Mistake A: NYC subways are a labyrinth compared to Toronto.
Mistake B: Remember, time over money. We only had two days so it would have been fine to invest in a place in Manhattan instead.
Mistake C: Weird neighborhoods = Weird people. Oh, who am I kidding, all of NY is weird a f.
5. Pack ramen, lots of ramen
Sara and I are pretty small in size and don’t eat much so we decided to save ourselves from the fatty junk that America is infamous for and eat the fatty junk we brought from Canada (ramen and BBQ chips). Also, we wanted to increase our shopping budget, so there’s that.
6. Get ticketed, three times in three days to be priciest
I am 21 and still cannot drive. Sara drove 12 hours both times in storm season, but I paid her back with a lit playlist and my promise to not sleep, both of which I broke. She rebelled by speeding. Three tickets, though, bye budget…
7. Order street food and freeze your fingers while eating it in the cold
NYC has these things called “Halal Carts” on every street corner. Sara got a hot dog and I got an overstuffed gyro in the arctic wind. I was never sure if I was eating my numb fingers or the cold naan. Yum.
8. Encourage your best friend to do stupid stuff
Go best friend, that’s my best friend. Is any trip complete without doing stupid stuff? Nope. We promised each other to never repeat it to others so keep wondering.
9. Take the road less traveled
Sara’s phone RIPed the night before we left Ottawa and mine had no data. We stopped at all the McDonald’s and Starbucks to get Google maps going. With that, we aimed to cross the Brooklyn Bridge on foot but ended up on the Manhattan Bridge instead. We saw the Brooklyn Bridge from there so consider it two bridges with one stone?
10. Go through McDonald’s drive-thru, twice
On our way back, we got a greasy Buttermilk chicken burger from Mcdonald’s at 10 am. After we ate it, we went back in line and got another. We were lovin’ it that much.
I made another video, shocker.
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December Diaries Part 1 in Toronto
December Diaries Part 2 in Ottawa
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December Diaries Part 2: Ottawa
The rideshare to Ottawa ripped me off by not having Wi-Fi in the van that they advertised on Kijiji. The dude driving was on his phone the entire time through the storm and didn’t even let me sleep! Me, on transit, not sleeping?? Impossible!! So I did what I had to, I fake cried. He gave me $5 off and I complained to his boss. The older gentleman sitting beside me insisted on giving me $10 to make up for the mishap, too. His argument was “just take it, I have lots, go get yourself a nice dinner with your sister”. I bought cute mitts from Indigo with it.
My little sister, Batool, lives close to the University of Ottawa campus so the first stop was her place. Imagine Batool as a skinner more annoying version of me. She also has two really fat kittens, Lou-ee-ja and Lucy-Villow, that like to smell shoes. Since her place has no food, smells like piss, and lacks heating, I stayed with Sara, my high school BFF who ditched me in Toronto to study in Ottawa.
Sara also has a cat, Simba. I guess Ottawa is a cold and lonely place so pets are needed. I think Sara likes Simba better than me because I call him “Kuthi” (a female dog in Urdu). Whatever.
But seriously, why the heck is Ottawa so bloody cold? I’ve never worn so many clothes in my entire life. Anyways, Sara fed me a home cooked Pakistani meal and we were on our way to NYC the next morning.
December Diaries Part 1 in Toronto
Next stop: New York City
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December Diaries: Part 1 in Toronto
Toronto > Ottawa > NYC > Ottawa > Toronto > Karachi > Toronto > Ottawa > Toronto
December Diaries is a series of craziness put together by yours truly to reach the full potential of 2016. It is also a 21st birthday gift to myself where I planned to be in places and with people that make me the happiest. This time, all the good omens decided to align with my aspirations and December Diaries started to shape up nicely.
After handing in four assignments on my birthday, I took a bath and a nap. I know, I’m a party animal. But for the next couple of days, I started dating Toronto again.
I ended up just walking around the city on my own and going to the Chihuly Exhibition at the ROM. Though it was a little pricey, it’s surely one of my favorites. I’m a sucker for anything shiny, fragile, and colourful that I am not allowed to touch.
My friend also took me to Milagros on King as a birthday dinner. We went to it once before and it’s uno on my list of caliente Mexican food. I ate way too fast to take pictures, so I guess you just have to try it yourself.
Lastly, to further give into the consumerist holiday culture, my friends and I went to the Christmas Market at the Distillery. I’d been last year, and to be fully honest, I’m probably not going back again. It’s way too cold and expensive and they never let me sit on the merry go round.
Next stop: Ottawa
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How my absent immigrant father raised 3 feminists
It is not uncommon for immigrant families to have broken homes because a parent educated in a different part of the world is deemed unqualified to work in Canada. A child's identity is not only divided between culture, religion, and language but also between their caretakers. I'm not sure what I'm writing is considered daddy issues or the life of an average immigrant. Let's see.
I remember when the man I was supposed to look up to would come to visit and our relationship would feel so fake and forced - an inconvenience to have in our small all female home. The vast geographical distance created an even more hollow emotional bond to the extent I'd replace my teachers as father figures. I cried more when the eighth grade was over and I had to say bye to Mr. Damtsis more than I cried when my father first left to work abroad.
However, I believe everything happens for a reason and this too was a part of a bigger story. Trusting my mother with his three girls in a foreign land was the seed towards my journey to feminism that sprung from my father. At the age of 10, I saw a man who encouraged his wife to work and drive and stand tall on her feet in his absence. I saw a man who was not afraid to discuss his depression and helplessness over failing to find employment in his field, something which at the time felt like emotional guilt over adjusting in a life I was finally starting to enjoy without him. I saw a man leaving his "blood, flesh, and bones" (a nickname he had for his three daughters) behind at the airport time after time in whims for their better future.
My feminism started to stem when my father ensured I was educated about my roots. On his annual visits, he'd sit on the couch for hours and tell us about his life back home and about our religion with wild metaphors embedded in his storytelling persona. Understanding where I came from helped me be critical of institutional white feminism and encouraged me to search for role models that I familiarized with.
My feminism flourished when my father trusted me to make my own life choices based on his major decision to be absent. The awkward phone calls I wanted to avoid by running to the washroom had in them assurance and empowerment to do well in school and see the world. Though he was away, he ensured my sisters and I went to Saturday school, entered post-secondary programs we loved, and chipped in all the plane tickets so we could reunite with the land where the color of the ground matched our skin. His choice to migrate oceans away became the reason education in form of travel became so instilled in me.
Next time you see an immigrant father with broken English holding this daughter's hand tight, it is not because he is oppressive with his Eastern values, but because he is guiding her to be a strong independent woman who doesn't need a man to complete her.
In light of this, for my fourth-year thesis project, I, along with a team of 7 other badass immigrant/first/second generation women are working on @Borderline_TV, a female-led sitcom about two first-generation girls living in the city. It's a buddy-buddy comedy that meets cultural identity crisis. Help us tell the story that so many of us have experienced by donating what you can. If not, like/share our page with your friends and family! Everything helps.
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Digital Death
Originally posted on RUSL
There is a new side to death: digital death. Our inactive accounts have become carcasses of ourselves. “Pics or it didn’t happen” is a real cultural phenomenon attesting to the legitimacy of our existence.
Is the award you won actually something to be proud of if no one “likes” your accomplishment? Did you really travel there if you didn’t post a picture in front of *insert touristy monument*? Leaving your pages inactive for months, weeks, or even days, connotes a certain nonexistence, these days.
“Is your cousin okay? I haven’t seen him post any new pictures” said my mom a while ago. She assumed there was something wrong because he was inactive on Facebook.
Contrary to popular belief that being phone free is somewhat of a digital cleanse that’s supposed to bring you closer to nature, I genuinely beg to differ. Sure, for the first couple of days it’s cool and all but reality sets in quick. On my 19-day road trip across India, my out-dated music list became stale and my phone memory needed a serious throw-up session onto Google Drive.
Typically, when I travel I don’t bother with the extra cost of purchasing 3G or even a local SIM.
Then again, most of my trips have been in big cities where there are cafés with free wifi at every corner or a hostel to get connected at the end of the night. This was different. This was more road time than stay time. This was villages and towns out of even Instagram’s geolocation reach.
I’m so tired of people assuming what all “young people” do on our phones is text their crush or play Candy Crush. We are so much more than just Snapchat and Instagram, we are important email updates and Google Maps and Duoliguo.
In all the 24 cities we passed, I would find myself praying for wifi. I tried to be in the moment but the ghost of my unpaid tuition and unpicked summer courses haunted my consciousness.
What I’m trying to say is that I felt dead. Digitally, at least. I wondered if my friends noticed my lack of presence and I feared a notification overload when I did finally reconnect at the Mumbai airport. Which actually wasn’t the case. Facebook gave boring “Textbooks For Sale” updates and only about 2 people messaged me, whom I would have given the responseless ‘read’ to anyways. Nothing life and death worthy.
This got me thinking about the time I got an email from my faculty director informing us of a sudden death of a student in our program. As soon as I read it, my media psyche kicked in and my fingers scrambled to search for the student online. His Facebook seemed normal; packed with the generic silly group shots and filtered out selfies all twenty-somethings archetype. “It doesn’t feel like they are gone”, I thought, shamefully.
I tried to put myself in their shoes. With a constant social media presence, I wondered what would happen to my accounts if life called it quits on me. I don’t have a will (mainly because I don’t have money; student debt, rather…), but what I do have is a considerable amount of friends, followers, and connections. Do these social currencies count for something?
What would you do if you had a digital will? Have a loved one designated to deactivate your accounts? Or does your page turn into a memorial space where people send you unseen messages, memories, confessions, and prayers?
We are conditioned to think there is some purpose to life, to change a life or leave a mark; Athazagoraphobia (the fear of being forgotten) runs in our veins. People like Einstein, Vivaldi, and Aristotle had to work hard to have their legacies preserved in times where social technology did not exist. All we need to do is write a 140 character tweet and bam, we exist.
I asked my friends these questions, and they said they wanted their social account carcasses to stay intact, more or less based on the fear of being forgotten, I’m assuming. They also admitted to, after having lost someone, keeping their number on their phone, or refusing to unfollow them on their own networks. A friend described it as a strange ghost-like feeling, like being trapped in a digital liminal when browsing through his grandparent’s pictures. Dead because they’re not here, alive because the phone says so.
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4 Useful Things I Learned While Road Tripping Across India
Originally posted on RUSL
Travelling teaches you new things no matter how often you leave home behind. But road trips are a whole other ball game.
You will have poo issues
It happens to even the strongest of digestive systems. Because your sleep schedule, quality of water, and temperatures drastically change, your system will too. You will either find yourself in need of a washroom every hour or almost never. And even if you are regular – on the road, toilets aren’t frequent or in the best of conditions. I cried when I had to pee, in several washrooms, because they were so dirty. It really sucks because you want to eat everything but your tummy insists otherwise. I suggest LOADS of wet wipes and extra water. And girls, birth control may be a good option because being on your period when you have to sit in the car for 5-8 hours straight is not worth it, trust me.
Your definition of the three Cs will change
Close: I took this road trip with my family and one would think because we’re a family, we’d already be close. Turns out things get a lot more up close and personal when seven people are stuffed in a jeep with 10 suitcases and 45 degrees of sweltering heat. My little sister and I shared one seat and my patience has never been tested thinner. But being physically close also builds emotional bonds. Your 2am conversations get you admitting things you never thought you’d voice.
Clean: I wore the same clothes three days straight and once I dropped my candy between the car seats and still ate it a day later. My digestion was already off, how much worse could it get? On a serious note, you only get to pack a limited amount with a limited budget, so slap on some deodorant, dry out the sweat, and make the most of the day. No one will notice because you’ll be in a different city the next day.
Comfort: First of all you’re already jet lagged and on top of that it’s way too uncomfortable to sleep. Even if your lucky stars let you rest, it would be at odd times of the day in small chunks. Roadtripping really teaches you to look past the physical difficulties and embrace tolerance as a virtue.
Protip: a lap is a better pillow than any sweaty neck cushion so offer yours and be confident enough to rest on others.
You will fall in love – a lot
People are all generally really nice and when someone is nice to you in the time you’re most alone, connections are more intense. Most relationships are short lived and you promise to come back to visit. You wonder if you’d be the same if you met them back home instead. And then there are the bonds to locations and cities you think you can spend your entire life in. You can get an Instagram handle for people but the lust for a city never really goes away.
Small towns are better than big cities
I have to tell myself this a lot. Somehow, in smaller towns, the food tastes more homey and when you find a small garden you appreciate it a lot more. It’s interesting how different just one village is from its neighbor, especially in such a diverse place like India. You will find the people who have less offer you the bigger share. You’ve probably heard the expression that it’s about the journey more than it is about the destination; well, these small towns account a lot for the journey part. Cherish it.
I’m extremely grateful and privileged to be able to travel to such a beautiful place like India. Check out my 24 Cities in 19 Days vlog for the jist of my trip!
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