Memorable face

This summer I visited a few countries, one of which was Pakistan - where my mom's family is from. It was the standard trip.

Hung out with family. Did a little bit of shopping. Relaxed and ate plentifully. But one shopping experience turned out to be a little out of the ordinary.

In Pakistan, I have seen plenty of hijras when we go out to popular shopping districts. Don't know what a hijra is? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hijra_(South_Asia)

So we're around Tariq Road and a hijra approaches me asking me for money. It's hard for me to ignore people, to say no, etc...but that's exactly what I'm supposed to do with them.



The following conversation was in Urdu, but for readability purposes, I'll write it in English.

"Money? Give me some money, sister, please."
"Umm, I'm sorry I don't have anything."
"Ask your mother."
"Uhh..."
Enter my mom
"KIRAN! Come back here, what are you doing having a conversation with him??"
"I...uhh..."
"Sister, some money...."

We walk away.
You probably had to have been there, but it was awkward, scary, and uhh awkward. For me, at least.

The next day we were shopping in Zum Zumma and then BAM! Some other hijras walk by. I was prepared this time! I thought...

And then from behind these hanging fabrics outside the store I was standing outside of, one hijra comes into eyesight, looks at me HOLY MOTHER it's the same one. Remain calm, re-main calm.


"Oh sister, can I have a little bit of money?"
"Umm, sorry, I don't have anything."
This time I was going to walk away and end the "conversation" but before I could -
"Oh I saw you yesterday at Tariq Road as well and you still didn't give me anything then."
WHAT THE HAY!??! He/she remembers me!!

I start to walk away and -
"Ask your mother."

I'm gone by this time. Totally freaked out. In a country with roughly 172,800,048 people, for me to see the same hijra in two very different places and for him/her to recognize me, despite me wearing totally different clothes (American and Pakistani) and two different hair styles (up and down), is very weird. Very, very weird.

Oh Pakistan.

The hitchhiker at Aljibani

The other day, Beena and I went to the Aljabaani halal meat store in Diamond Bar. Standard procedure, you know? Pick up the stuff, take it home.
We picked up the stuff, but taking it home required a detour.


So we go to our car and old woman with a roller backpack and gypsy-esque clothing is standing outside. Beena and I kindly smile, nod, and cautiously proceed to Maximus almost right in front of her.

She catches Beena's glance.

Beena looks at her too.

I'm weirded out, I just open my door and right as I'm about to get it, I hear her saying something to Beena. Beena, looking totally perplexed looks over at me and asks, "What do I do? She's asking where we're going."

This is where it gets interesting.

Woman: (with a pretty strong Arab accent) Where are you going?
Me: Just home.
Woman: Temple, you go to Temple?
Me: Temple the street, we pass by it. I'm going home though.
Woman: But if you go to Temple, you can take me? Just there. It's very hot.

If you know me well enough, you know what I said.
"Ok."

So she gets in the car, front seat. Beena and I are SUPER creeped out. I've never done this before. Never. And yes, it might be a good deed, I mean the poor woman needed a ride, but what would I do if something went astray??

We're in the car -
Me: Ok, so you want me to drop you off on Temple? The street?
Woman: Um, where is your home? Where are you going?
Me: (oh mother) Umm.. Chino Hills.
Woman: Oh, by the shops. The shops.
Me: Yes, around there.
Woman: You can take me there then.
Me: (what the hay?) I'm sorry, where?
Woman: Chino Hills, yes.



Now keep in mind the ride from the store to Temple is probably 2 minutes - it's just down the street, literally. The ride to Chino Hills is like 10-15 minutes. That's 8-13 more minutes with her. What's going on????

Woman: They have the Sam's Club?
Me: Yes.
Woman: Is that where you are going?
Me: Yes, we need to go to the store (because I was not about to take her home)
Woman: Ok, I go there.
Me: Ok

Silence...

Now I don't remember all the dialogue on the way there, but I remember her asking SPECIFICALLY where we lived. And then Beena asked her where she lives and she hardly responded.

We exit.

We arrive at Sam's Club.

Woman: Do you have any money? I don't have very much. Any change or anything?
Me: I'm sorry, I don't have any change.



Beena had some quarters so she gave the woman 3 dollars, I think it was, in change.

She left the car, said thank you (thank God) and we didn't see her again.

Wow.

Anyone living in Tuscany must be a celebrity

The Laker victory parade kind of ruined my life ... or Wednesday.
Streets were blocked. People were everywhere. And I swear, it was like the streets of LA threw up purple and gold.

Anyway, my priorities were clear - get to my apartment, show some potential roommates around, drop off my cousins, bam! Only it took me approximately 45 minutes to get from the San Pedro exit to my apartment.

X <-- that's San Pedro


T <-- that's my apartment

OK, they're not that far.



After making a giant circle around Jefferson through Main then back on Broadway, I - THANK GOD - made it to Flower.
But there they were... the orange cones.
They had been blocking my every move for the last half hour and gosh darn it I needed them to move (move) get out the way. So instead of turning left onto Exposition like everyone else who was following the cones and the police men's hands, I kind of went forward. Relax, I didn't hit anyone.

I pulled up the cops were directly me to the left but Maximus and I just waited there until I got some attention. The cop came up to my window and I said while pointing straight to my destination, "Excuse me, I live over there."
"You live in Tuscany?"
"Yes."
"Ok, go forward. Let her through!"

Ye-ah! Jai ho! Bam!

I go THROUGH those darn cones, through the police men and then again cops at the corner of 37th and Flower.

"I live there."
"Oh ok, go ahead."

Ye-ah! Jai ho! Bam! That's right, you betta make way!

I knew Tuscany was worth something...

I fobed my little way into the parking lot and after 45 minutes of driving around what was probably 2 miles, I made it. 229 still smells the same.

Aesthetics over practicality = lame: Compton - part I

This past week I went to Compton twice. I know, I'm hooked. Whether it's voluntary or not, who's to say?

Ok, fine. It's totally not voluntary. However, I'm getting so well acquainted with freeway and streets there, I feel like a local. A regular. Like it's almost, almost almost but not quite, voluntary.

Tuesday pre-meeting -

I had to go to the city council meeting. At night. First time. My mom suggested my father come down to LA to take me to an hour-long meeting in Compton. Ummm..yeah.

I, on the other hand, sent a mass text to my "local male friends" asking for volunteers to come with me. Whether my "local male friends" were scared pitless or they were just busy, who knows. I was prepared to venture off alone. I filled my tank, didn't wear "colors," got mapquested directions, I was set.

Then the Persian randomly texted me a couple hours before I was going to leave asking if I found someone to come. I said no, but that I'd be ok. And then he says something about a guilty conscience if I die. Thanks, really.

He brought his friend's dagger. No joke. Case and all. It had a jungle/animal embossed print on it or something. Serious business.

We arrive and the city hall doors are locked. We had to find the "Council Chambers." We go to the back and, I don't know how to describe this properly, but there was a giant shallow pool thing in the back of the building that, well, I failed to see pre-walk-in. You can't blame me, the water was so still, it looked like the floor. AND ladies and gentlemen, it was super shallow so it also...looked...like the floor.
You had to have been there!

I was looking into this window and then, to get closer, closer, closer "I put one foot in front of the o-ther...." and soon I'll be walking into wa-aa-ter. I missed the pool. Just didn't see it.
I didn't know it existed. The next thing you know, BAM, both my feet are in this pool, the homeless man in the distance is like "Uh-oh," and Omid's eyes widen as he looks almost as perplexed as I do.

"You know, I was just gonna say this pool looks kind of nice."

He couldn't have said it, like, two seconds earlier?

Who puts a pool there!? Against a government building? Really, now. Really? I mean, I.... wouldn't.

I walked into the meeting with soaking feet, jeans that were wet a little less than mid-calf height. It was so cold. So very cold.

Maximus and U-ee

We went to the ghetto Ralph's tonight. I just needed a few things, you know? Thought I'd make it quick.

I'm driving out of the parking lot and get to the intersection to make a U-turn back onto Vermont going South.

It's a skinny street. Not a lot of room. A lot of "shady-looking" pedestrians on the corner that Safia pointed out.

It's green. I go. I turn the wheel. TURN TURN TURN. I'm slowing. It's too close. I'm too close. Are there cars coming the other way? The pedestrians are staring too. The look in their eyes. "Is she gonna make it? IS SHE GONNA MAKE IT??"
TURN TURN TURN.... TU-ERN

BAM! I make it and vroooooom away.

Great vehicles come in small packages that make rough U-ees.

Tramma Lamma Tram Tram

So.

For my most recent broadcast class, I had to a video story (VSV) on the USC Tram Service. Sounds simple, no? But try having to MAKE time in your schedule to take a tram you don't need, to film a tram you don't usually pay attention to, to interview people that, well, would prefer to get on stop A and get off stop B and not be pestered by my tramming homework. But it was my first assignment, and boy oh boy, I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty excited.


Until the commuting happened.

My earliest Monday class is at 1. I know, I know...old story. So I figured in the morning I'd get all my filming done.

I wait at the second stop on Route A's uh, route. I hop on the third tram after filming a bunch of b-roll. Bumpy ride but pleasant. Umm... the people look a little tired. Not as enthusiastic as I was. I did get some funky stares for filming inside a very bumpy tram ride. I go through the whole route and stay on for the second.

Here was the sketchy business...

I wanted to interview this guy who we'll call Tim. He and I both concurred on the moving tram that I'd interview him at his stop because it would be best place. He said it was the third stop. WELL..... Maybe I should have checked the stops online. Or at least known where the "USC Research Annex" was.

We get off 3 blocks east of campus on Exposition. I passed it along the way the first time, but we hadn't stopped there so I was a little confused. A little shady-looking, but oh well.

The tram jets off like nobody's business. I do the interview. He leaves. I pack up my rather expensive equipment and look all professional with this accomplished look on my face and BAM! Where's the tram??

Oh that's right! It left.

TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!! I call.

"Where's the tram going to come? Is this a pickup stop?"

"Well, the next stop is down the street at the school. And the stop after that is at the [very dingy looking] parking structure building down on Jefferson. You can make it to the last stop if you maybe run there or something"

"Ok, thanks!"

Yeah...right. I'm not running with rather expensive equipment and pointy flats in a location where there are, seriously speaking, hobos at every turn.

Oh brother... I guess I'm going to walk.


I live about 2 blocks west and then 1 block south of where we were. Not bad. It's morning and it's breezy and personally I like walking under freeway bridges with sleeping homeless men and their shopping carts.

I make it back, obviously; just via the scenic route. Tram A - DONE.

TRAM B

Tuesday night I decide to shoot some more b-roll so I go over around 4:30ish to take Tram B and do the same thing.

I'm standing kind of outside the USC Valet courtyard entrance fountain corner School of Law-ish area. I ask the guy next to me, "Excuse me. Is this the tram stop?"


"For the Parking Center Tram? Yeah, it is."

"Thanks!"

BAM! Safia walks by laughing at me and my poor little tripod and video baggage. She's the first non-stranger to see me in action. IN ACTION! She laughed. There goes my credibility. Haha. Ahh..roommates.

So she leaves and I wait next to the guy. This tram/bus comes and as I'm about to get in, the guy says,

"Oh. This one is the Long Beach tram."


!!?!??!?!??!

Holy mother! "Oh gosh, thank you!"

If he hadn't told me, I'd have been in Long Beach Tuesday night. Stranded. Waiting for a ride. My naiveté would have gotten the best of me...again. But once again, I made it home, obviously - and without having gone to Long Beach.