I've arrived and checked-in. I've had breakfast and explored my hotel room: fiddled with hopeless TV controls; used the tiny toiletries; phoned room service and swiped the letter-paper. I had a woozy nap, drifting in and out of consciousness as my mind staggered to catch up with my body and realise I'm in Pakistan again.
Eventually, as it always does, the novelty of the hotel room wore thin and I wanted to see some Life. I looked out of the window. I think the woman opposite, gazing down at the street from her roof, wanted to see some Life too. She sat beside a screen cage full of pigeons flying in their tiny portion of sky. I wanted to get out, but felt too fragile to have much human interaction. I'd go to the zoo.
This had the added advantage of being a good walk down the Mall, a strip of urban brilliance. Even constructed from dusty red brick, the classical lines and Oriental curves of the great court house, university, museum and central post office, are perfect. Indeed, the humble building material shows just how beautiful the forms themselves are. These institutions give way to commercial buildings in bold art-deco stucco. Beneath them snacks are sold for copper coins while inside are shops selling only gold.
In the zoo, it took some time to locate any real animals. There were plenty made of fibreglass, so many in fact that I began to wonder whether this was the way they did zoos here. There's a lot to be said for it: no feeding or danger and you won't blink and miss the moment the dolphin balances a ball on the nose; it's always balancing it on the nose. Children were riding the electric models and there's another advantage to fake animals: no fear of being bitten or thrown off. Next to all this was a snack bar complex where families, happy with their riding, picnicked.
The first actual cage I saw housed a man mending a motorbike. Next to that was a makeshift mosque, reminding the Darwinian west that it doesn't have to be religion or biology, natural history displays replacing the contents of a cathedral in South Kensington, but religion can be bang in the middle of it.
At last, I came to the Bird Houses. They are Bird Houses in both senses: for birds and shaped like birds, out of concrete. However, concrete is not known for it's transparency and so there is no light with which to see the creatures.
The mammal section is more circus than science. Thumping music pumps from a distance. Pinky the chimp lives in a room decorated pink with a mural wishing her happy birthday every day of the year. Suzi the elephant is painted and gives rides. The lions roar when tickled by the zoo-keeper. I only hope that they've not been taught to read, lest the jacket someone's wearing irritates them too much. It says in white STOP AND FEEL FREE. I stop and feel free, but there's no way those big cats can. And as part of the whole circus set-up, there's a freak show and people stare at me. I only wish I could charge 10p. I smile instead.
"What a great place," I say to the lady I share a bench with, to make conversation. I sip a cappuccino-style frothed tea. ("Celebrate the moment" the label on the tea-bag tells us.) Apparently her children just decided they wanted to come this afternoon, like me. She seems surprised by my comment though.
"Why do like it?"
Good question. Do I like it? "The lions," I say. "The lions and tigers, especially that snow tiger!"
"Ha! Allah Miya made it so good!"
I tell her I've never see one before and that I loved its green eyes.
"Mashallah, you also have beautiful eyes."
"We were talking about animals," I say, and we laugh.
When I go to pay for my tea I find she's already paid.
I'm going to go back to the zoo. Maybe next time I'll look at the animals.
Eventually, as it always does, the novelty of the hotel room wore thin and I wanted to see some Life. I looked out of the window. I think the woman opposite, gazing down at the street from her roof, wanted to see some Life too. She sat beside a screen cage full of pigeons flying in their tiny portion of sky. I wanted to get out, but felt too fragile to have much human interaction. I'd go to the zoo.
This had the added advantage of being a good walk down the Mall, a strip of urban brilliance. Even constructed from dusty red brick, the classical lines and Oriental curves of the great court house, university, museum and central post office, are perfect. Indeed, the humble building material shows just how beautiful the forms themselves are. These institutions give way to commercial buildings in bold art-deco stucco. Beneath them snacks are sold for copper coins while inside are shops selling only gold.
In the zoo, it took some time to locate any real animals. There were plenty made of fibreglass, so many in fact that I began to wonder whether this was the way they did zoos here. There's a lot to be said for it: no feeding or danger and you won't blink and miss the moment the dolphin balances a ball on the nose; it's always balancing it on the nose. Children were riding the electric models and there's another advantage to fake animals: no fear of being bitten or thrown off. Next to all this was a snack bar complex where families, happy with their riding, picnicked.
The first actual cage I saw housed a man mending a motorbike. Next to that was a makeshift mosque, reminding the Darwinian west that it doesn't have to be religion or biology, natural history displays replacing the contents of a cathedral in South Kensington, but religion can be bang in the middle of it.
At last, I came to the Bird Houses. They are Bird Houses in both senses: for birds and shaped like birds, out of concrete. However, concrete is not known for it's transparency and so there is no light with which to see the creatures.
The mammal section is more circus than science. Thumping music pumps from a distance. Pinky the chimp lives in a room decorated pink with a mural wishing her happy birthday every day of the year. Suzi the elephant is painted and gives rides. The lions roar when tickled by the zoo-keeper. I only hope that they've not been taught to read, lest the jacket someone's wearing irritates them too much. It says in white STOP AND FEEL FREE. I stop and feel free, but there's no way those big cats can. And as part of the whole circus set-up, there's a freak show and people stare at me. I only wish I could charge 10p. I smile instead.
"What a great place," I say to the lady I share a bench with, to make conversation. I sip a cappuccino-style frothed tea. ("Celebrate the moment" the label on the tea-bag tells us.) Apparently her children just decided they wanted to come this afternoon, like me. She seems surprised by my comment though.
"Why do like it?"
Good question. Do I like it? "The lions," I say. "The lions and tigers, especially that snow tiger!"
"Ha! Allah Miya made it so good!"
I tell her I've never see one before and that I loved its green eyes.
"Mashallah, you also have beautiful eyes."
"We were talking about animals," I say, and we laugh.
When I go to pay for my tea I find she's already paid.
I'm going to go back to the zoo. Maybe next time I'll look at the animals.
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