Welcome to the inside of my head.

Posts tagged ‘india’

104. Excuse my French but I’m in France

I’M JUST SAYIN’

This is what I should have posted several days ago but better late than never eh. So as I’ve banged on and on about, I went to Paris this weekend for my cousin’s wedding. SO much happened even within a short amount of time but these were some of the high/low lights:

Travelling
The train station was an hour and a half away from the house we were staying at and the house was another hour away from the venue. Who came up with this fabulous planning?- I don’t know- but my god did we do a lot of driving. It was really annoying too because it was so hot in the car that our make up was melting.

The House
I have family all of the world, literally at least one representative from every continent attended this wedding and we were ALL, yes ALL, housed in this one place. It was absolutely stunning, a huge paradise in the middle of nowhere but it still only had 5 bedrooms and there were 31 of us. Yeah you can imagine that not many of us slept on beds. What’s worse was that there were only 3 bathrooms so goodbye privacy. People were hiding behind beds and doors when they were changing but eventually we all just gave up. Trust me when I say that I have seen enough aunty’s stomachs for a lifetime.

Drama
If you know anything about asian weddings, you know that they can’t happen without some drama. This occasion was no exception. My Khala aka. my mum’s sister and bride’s mother is a very emotional person and when the Nikkah (the closest to vows Muslims get) finished, she promptly passed out and I was the idiot who had to run to the guy’s section and get help. Then the crying commenced. It was like a chain reaction. The bride started weeping, and then her sister started which set my mum off and next thing I know my own eyes were wet.

The Rush
There were three events in two days and I was there for two nights. Everything was rushed. As soon as I arrived (literally as soon as I got my foot in the door), I was told to get ready and change my clothes but I was knackered and couldn’t be asked so I just stayed in my jeans. I eventually got the energy to change for the second event but I wore no make up. I sorted things out for the third though.
For the journey home, I caught a very early train back to London and because of the timings and distance from the venue, I actually didn’t sleep for 26 hours. It’s always been on my list of things to do before I die to pull an all nighter but I never thought it would be under those circumstances…

Language Problems
There were many. I speak English, understand Urdu but speak it to a below average standard whereas the rest of them are fluent in French and speak better Urdu than me. Basically there were three languages flying around the whole time and it got hella confusing.

Heels
I fucking hate heels. I wore them for two days straight and it murdered my feet. I genuinely limped home. Don’t do it!

Dancing
In case you don’t know, I love to dance… in private. I’m absolutely terrible but I enjoy practising my balle balle and Beyonce booty shake… in private…because you know I’m brown and dancing unashamedly would ruin my reputation. Now at any other wedding I would never be expected to dance. Come a family member’s wedding however and suddenly my mum is actively telling me to join in. Great! I’m sorry but I am not a closet professional dancer. Let me eat my biryani in peace.

I know this all sounds like a huge rant but it was a wonderful experience really. My cousin looked beautiful (though she won’t let me put up any pics of her yet -_-) and it was amazing to be part of such a Punjabi energetic wedding.

Without further ado, here are some pictures. More may be added later.

Over and Out!

Note: If you live under a rock and don’t understand the title and first line, it’s from ‘Ninjas’ in Paris.

Advertisements

84. And the award for best customer service goes to….

I did not realise getting my hair cut would be so much effort…

My Mum has been going on and on about the state of my hair. You look like a ‘jungli’ she said. Long hair doesn’t suit round faces she said.  Go get it cut Aliya. I finally caved and agreed to get it done today.

We have a hairdresser’s down the end of our road. It’s about a 5-10 minute walk away and it’s owned by an Indian lady. You already know this story is going to be hilarious. Now this shop isn’t just a hairdressers, it’s a beauty parlour too which means there’s always someone on the side getting their eyebrows threaded or their moustache waxed. I walked in (trying to ignore the women wincing on the side) and asked if I could get a haircut. Before you ask why I didn’t book an appointment, I will highlight that this place is owned by brown people. If I requested an appointment, they’d probably just look at me blankly. I was informed that their one hairdresser wasn’t there at the moment but that she could be there in half an hour. I said fine, and went home resolving to come back in half an hour. As I was about to leave, the lady asked me if I wanted my eyebrows done. I said ‘no thanks’.

I went home and watched the first half of a House episode before making my way back to the hairdressers. This time I was told to take a seat. I noticed a lady come in to get her eyebrows done and for some unknown reason, she had her teenage son (about 13/14 years old) with her who looked like he’d prefer to bury a hole and die in it than be at a beauty parlour full of women. Meanwhile I was stuck watching some God awful Indian drama to pass the time. After waiting for 15 minutes and the hairdresser still being a no-show,  I was informed that she thought I wouldn’t be coming back (how did she come to that conclusion) so she didn’t leave home and could I come back at 7pm?

I am quite a reasonable person most of the time but I was pretty peeved to hear that. Despite this, I agreed to come back at 7. As I was about to step out, the lady asked again if I wanted my eyebrows done. NO! What made you think I changed my mind in under an hour?! Leave my eyebrows ALONE.

Finally I went back at 7pm- this being my third visit to the shop… and the hairdresser was still not there. Thankfully she turned up in 10 minutes and then spent under 5 minutes actually cutting my hair. I think these guys need a customer service award.

So there you have it. My locks have been cut off. Even if it was a huge headache, at least my Mum is happy… and I got some exercise.

In order news, my head has been hurting me for a while and I assumed it was because I was tying my hair too tight. Turns out I actually have a bump. I have no recollection of ever hitting my head. This concerns me.

[Edit]

aliyahaircut

To be honest for under 5 minutes, I think it came out okay.

64. Brown people at the airport

I go to Heathrow a lot. Usually I’m picking up or dropping off relatives coming from/ going to Pakistan and I’ve noticed a number of things.

– Before we even get to the airport, we do the customary weighing of the suitcases to find out just how overweight they are. Instead of putting the case on the scale, my dad always insists on standing on the scale, noting his weight and then lifting the suitcase and calculating the increase. Apparently this is more accurate… but you gotto feel sorry for the pour soul (usually me) who has to have their face against the floor (and near feet) to get the readings. *grumble grumble*

– You don’t need to look at the screen to find out which area of the airport you need to go. Just follow the masses of people talking really loudly (in Punjabi or Urdu) and you’ll soon find your way to the PIA desk.

– There may be 3 or 4 people actually getting on the plane but a good 10-15 people coming to see them off. This might make them feel special but to every other passenger, this is hella annoying. Why are you all congregated right in the middle of the check in? Why are you all in the queue if you’re not travelling?! You’re making the queue longer!

Image Credit: thehindu.com

– Suitcases. About 70% of the passengers have suitcases from the 1970’s that look they they weigh a tonne and don’t have wheels. Even worse, some people just bring a hench cardboard box and mummify it in string. This is understandable if you’re taking something odd shaped abroad that won’t fit in a usual suitcase but most of the time it’s just full of clothes.

– The ladies are travelling in clothes that I would usually reserve for wearing to a wedding. How can you sit through a 7 hour flight in such heavy garments and make up? You are going to look like your face melted when you get off the plane. And heels too! You’re already struggling with your overweight luggage. Your inappropriate footwear is only going to this worse.

– The luggage is always overweight and not just a little bit, outrageously so.  My relatives actually PLAN on taking overweight luggage and create a ‘lucky bag’. This is a bag that they’d like to take but if it doesn’t go- oh well. They’ll wait in the queue and try and suss out who the most lenient check in person is and try and go for them. Then they will try and butter up the person behind the desk (I genuinely heard one man say ‘you’re looking very smart’ and the lady said ‘don’t even try it’).  One time we managed to convince someone to let us take an extra 15kg on board including golf clubs and other times we get the really anal check in person who is like hmmm you’re 1kg over, cough up. I have to add that nearly every time I go to the airport, I meet someone who wants us to check in their bag if we have room. The cheek!

How can my luggage be overweight? I weighed it at home!

– Every child is carrying their own body weight as ‘hand luggage’. Their parents are telling them ‘it’s only for a little bit’. I have experienced being that child and trust me when I say it is not a little bit and it canes your back.

– There’s always that one family that didn’t come prepared with a ‘lucky bag’ and has to open their suitcase in front of everyone and start removing things. What you notice is that they are filled to the brim with ‘gifts’ such as 5 packets of kitkat, a dozen cardigans from Marks and Spencer, Vaseline moisturising cream and random things like jam or baked beans which aren’t as nice in Pakistan. Hey…whatever makes them happy.

Over and Out!