Tonight I fly back to New Zealand.
Yesterday my sister’s new in-laws came over for a final goodbye, and then I went off with them to Zainab Market, once the go-to place – the only place, really – for clothing meant for export. Back in the day I stocked up on trousers and t-shirts and warm jackets from the excess stock for sale there. There were also a few shops with handicrafts where once my father bought me a really beautiful lapis lazuli necklace (well, I chose it and insisted he buy it for me). It was all a bit disappointing on this visit, though. I wasn’t in the market for clothes, though I doubt the quality is anything like what I would be interested in, and I suspect it all comes from China these days instead of Pakistan’s then-flourishing textile industry. The Afghan jewellery was no longer the heavy, beautifully handcrafted stuff you could once get, but made of lightweight adulterated metals, of machined bits put together, of the thinnest veneers of lapis and turquoise. I bought a couple of things, but was largely disappointed, though the others bought quite a lot. I was particularly appalled by the shawls and carpets, all of which can be got, far, far better quality, in Islamabad. Very poor indeed.
In the evening my aunt took me to another few shops which were slightly better and I picked up a beautiful, very fine ajrak (in plain black and white) for myself and some Multani painted vases as gifts. Still nothing as interesting as I’d hoped.
This morning was another round of shopping. First breakfast with an aunt, then to Dolmen with another aunt. This is a huge shopping mall in the parts of Clifton which make me want to avert my eyes.
Now to pack and prepare for a very, very long flight to NZ. I am pleased to be leaving, though not massively looking forward to being in New Zealand. It had not occurred to me, but travelling constantly, along with extremely itchy feet, has made me slightly dissatisfied wherever I might be.