Karachi Chronicles Chapter 13

Although we didn’t have a license to free roam, there were plenty of establishments in the hotel to keep us fed. Each morning, for breakfast we had the expansive Marco Polo buffet. In the evenings, there was a traditional Pakistani buffet for a local flavour. As for Eastern Asian flavours, we had Taipan yum cha and the “best restaurant in Pakistan,” Sakura Japanese. Catering to the Western palate, you had the Steakhouse or executive lounge. Room service, a café in the lobby and the Kwikimart† rounded out the plethora of options at our immediate disposal.

Early on in the trip, fresh and eager, I hopped into as many different options as I could. During this inquisitive stage, I thoroughly tried and enjoyed some local cuisine from Marco Polo and the upstairs Pakistani buffets. My favourites included biryani and the Pakistani breakfast omelette. Unfortunately, this level of gusto towards eating as much new and exciting food as I could soon came to a stand still. Which I guess is the opposite of how I felt running back and forth to the toilet every hour on the first night diarrhoea hit.

No amount of will power could overcome the simple fact that my pampered and naive gut had no experience with the conditions in Pakistan. To be clear, it wasn’t that we were in dirty conditions, it was just a new set of bacteria that us visitors needed to become a custom to. Adjust we did, after a few days most became well versed in the use of local “gut care” products, such as Smecta and Nimkol. Not that I took a poll and with a few people respectfully keeping their bowel habits to themselves, it can uncomfortably be assumed we all suffered to some degree.

Probably the first to be noticeably struck down with illness was Milts. Milts, or formally Simon Milton, from Queensland is a well travelled wicketkeeper batsman. I had previously encountered Milts at the inaugural over 40s national titles. Vividly, I can remember him calling me Dickey Knee due to the curly afro flapping out from under my cricket cap. Upon returning home and explaining this hilarious sledge to my wife, she promptly googled up a picture of Dickey. Bursting into laughter, she proclaimed that I did indeed look like Dickey and although I didn’t need further confirmation, the likeness was established.

Besides being a team member, he was also responsible for our pre-tour arrangements. Armed with vast experience from the well organised Queensland Veterans scene, he sorted us out like a dream and was instrumental in getting the crew to Karachi. Personally, with all the negative talk coming from certain people before the tour, outside of my family he was one of the few voices of reason. I had already gained a lot of respect for the Queensland boys from hanging out with them at the nationals. However, ultimately the many hours spent talking on the phone through logistics with Milts was what propelled me onto that Karachi bound flight.

On debut, in our first game of the tour, Milts was hit hard with a bout of gastro. Early into our fielding effort against the Canadians, he finally succumbed to the rising pangs of nausea. Not to delve too deeply into the details, it was a stark awakening of what was about to strike. No less than twelve hours later, I would find myself marching to the toilet countless times throughout the night. Unfortunately for me, I had yet to don the baggy green and was obviously worried about missing out.

Deep down, as a late call up to the tour, I knew I would be one of the four players who wouldn’t debut during the first tour game. It was still hard to wait that extra day, hoping no disruptions would steal the dream away so close to crossing the line. Absolutely purging my body the whole night before my debut, I don’t think I would have braved the heat or humidity for a normal game of cricket. It’s not everyday that you get the chance to do anything for the country, let alone play a game for one of the leading cricket nations. Such a life changing opportunity is what pushed me to get on the Imodium and struggle through my first day playing for the Australian Over 40s.

After completing the game through shear hype and adrenaline, I could barely muster enough energy to drag myself into the bus. That night, I was dismissed from the team meeting as I was borderline delirious from dehydration and exhaustion. I was that busted, Botty presented me with the bail I broke during my first international wicket and all I could do was just lay supine on a couch. Upon returning to my room, I don’t remember much but do recall being distinctly concerned about feeling so bad and being far away from my family. At some stage later, I remember awakening to hotel staff and my roommate Leardy trying to talk to me. Not making much sense, they sent for the doctor as a precaution.

Doc rocked up sooner or later, time was abstract to me at this point anyway, and checked me over. After sussing out my vitals, he assured me I’d be fine and just needed to rest and rehydrate. Periodically, I struggled down some water but felt too tired to even sleep. Eventually, I managed to stuff in a few pineapple lollies that Leardy had left on the bedside table and drift off to sleep. Amazingly, the sugar hit pushed me in the right direction and with the Imodium doing its thing, a few hours later I woke up in a much better state.

Regrettably, after getting the stuffing knocked out of me, I had to tone down my eating for the rest of the trip. This was a huge shame as I wasn’t able to capitalise on all the great restaurants that were at our disposal. Of the afore mentioned restaurants, the Japanese restaurant, Sakura was my pick of the bunch. Having lived in and travelled to Japan many times, this might seem counter intuitive. However, considering the location and absence of any Japanese staff, I would say they have done an amazing job in staying true to traditional Japanese, Izakaya style cuisine. They also featured a fantastic teppanyaki set up that is typical of the Western showmanship style take, which doesn’t actually happen in Japan.

Bonus points are also awarded to Sakura for its location on the tenth floor, atop the hotel. During the day time, it offers a superb view of the neighbouring Gymkhana ground, as well as the sprawling park that separates the hotel from the Governor of Sindh’s residence. Also accompanying it on the top floor were the executive lounge, Pakistani Buffet and Steakhouse. Early each morning, I would use the vacant tables up there to FaceTime back home, while enjoying the unique vista projecting out in every direction below. This was also the location where some of the boys would fall foul of a classic travel stitch up.

One night, after a team shindig, a handful of us decided to cruise up to the steakhouse for a feed. Some of the lads decided on the scotch fillet, which due to my condition I chose to steer clear of, instead ordering chicken. Making sure to request it be seared to within an inch of straight charcoal, I didn’t think too much further about the orders. Soon after the meals arrived and we tucked into a solid feed. Seeing the rare nature of the steaks, which I had already encountered on a previous visit, I was happy with my choice. When I dabble in the red meat, I like a medium rare, but at this point in time my stomach just wouldn’t have been able to take it.

Upon completing the meal and exhausted from another hard day on and off the field, we proceeded to fix up the bill at the front counter. Having something different, I went up and paid the approximately fifteen bucks Australian for my meal and waited for the others to cover their steaks so we could bail. This is when things started to get a little interesting. Tripod was up next, and after specifically requesting the local steak during ordering, coughed up the roughly twenty Australian dollars required. Seeing this, the remaining three lads, each gathered up their four thousand rupees in anticipation for payment.

When they tried to cough up their do-re-mi, the restaurant manager stated that they would need to produce more money. After a fair bit of back and forth and some low key arguing, the remainder of the bill came in at around four hundred Australian dollars for three steaks. Apparently, although not prominently displayed, when ordering if “local steak” is not specifically requested then the much more expensive imported, ironically Australian, steak would be served. During the ensuing kerfuffle, I hastily decided to call Coach Kingy to come up with our liaison officer Maz to diffuse the situation*. Unfortunately by the time they arrived, the boys had relented and paid for the very expensive meal.

When the restaurant manager was eventually confronted by Maz, he scarpered off to a different location and didn’t appear too keen to defend his position. Appreciating the wages and financial situation many face in Karachi, I do emphasise with the smooth actions and upselling technique of the Manager. On the other hand as a man of principle, it was hard not to feel like we were taken for a ride. I guess some would posit that we were naive but others may say this was a classic version of the old bait and switch. Anyway, even though we didn’t lose much slept over the incident and we could afford the mistake, it’s another example of what can happen if you take your eye off the ball, even briefly.

From all I’ve written so far, first and foremost it should be clear I have so much respect for the country and people of Pakistan. For this reason, I am hesitant to even write about this incident, as I don’t want to shine a bad light on Pakistan in anyway. In hindsight, after reflecting even further, it’s obvious that this is a fairly common occurrence for tourists to any major city around the world. So in conclusion, I just want to make it completely clear that I love Pakistan and although I came away minus about six kilos, I left the country with my heart filled. As I’ve stipulated multiple times, the locals of Karachi were fantastic and I have only recounted this story more for comic relief than in anyway seeking some kind of vengeance. Anyway, I guess the moral to all of this is, where ever you go maybe it’s best to just eat local!

† Kwikimart - all will be revealed in a later chapter about this absolute gem of a location.

* When I say diffuse, there were no heated arguments, just a few really tired and chipper blokes that were caught up in an an unexpected situation.