Life's a Beach (Baby Sitters' Club Part 2)

Continued from below... obviously I guess....

I awoke at 9:00 am to the sounds of Aman playing with Noor’s cell phone. Why an eleven year old needs a cell phone I have no idea. I just know that it’s a different world than the one I grew up in. Aman had been up for at least an hour and was bored silly waiting for us to wake up and was making strange unidentifiable noises to try and wake us up without us knowing it was her. I found out later that she had set the desk clock ahead by two hours in the hopes that someone would see it and think it was late morning. I looked over and scowled at her. She looked hopeful that I would now be getting up, but based on the previous day’s activities and the two earthquakes that had frightened me awake in the early hours, there was no way in hell I was budging. "Go see auntie." I commanded, sending her out of the room into the hands of Sophie’s mom. Of course, the victory was short lived, as soon enough the room started stirring and we piled out for breakfast.

Soon enough it was off to a Khadda Market stationery store (which incidentally was also stationary) to buy more glitter (since most of the previous glitter was still stuck to our kids) and some sticky-tack to put up all the decorations. Then came a quick stop at Pie in the Sky to pick up enough sandwiches and other snacks to feed a jihad. Then Sophie had a brilliant idea and we stopped at a plastics store, to pick up containers to use in the sand. Of course, I knew what this meant. I would be building a sand castle.

Finally, we were on the way to the beach. French Beach is about 45 minutes out of Karachi on average, depending on the traffic. And when I say "out of Karachi," I’m not sure that’s even right because I think it may even still be within city limits… this place is huge. The drive is fraught with huge trucks, old buses, camels, cows and goats, not to mention all the beach goers, and is a difficult drive even without three kids in the back seat. My head was whipping around in the passenger seat like an F-14 copilot as I simultaneously attempted to juggle kid-patrol, double check blind-spots, help with driving advice and maintain my own sanity.

We arrived at our friends’ hut without incident and I breathed a sigh of relaxation at finally arriving at the beach. My respite was short-lived however as my day at the beach truly began. First was the design and implementation of a sand representation of the 17th century Dutch fort in Galle, where Aman and Zara had just spent a month in Sri Lanka. No, it could not possibly be just a sand castle, it had to be the Galle Fort. Ok fine, I thought as I started digging. A fort is a fort is a fort… moat, walls, ramparts… I can do this. Gradually, I realized that I was working on the fort more than the kids were and I tried to figure out how that had come about. Every once in a while Zara would wander over and say, "Oh David, that is excellent, keep it up."

My architectural adventures were interrupted by the tide, which luckily enough waits for no man, not even head-strong little girls. I thought the fort would be swept away, but as it happens, it was just above the high tide mark. By this time though, the man with the horse had arrived. One by one I walked alongside the horse as it bore each girl down the beach and back. "Let’s go again!" shouted Noor. "We can’t," I said, "the horse is tired." I paid the man and trudged back up to the hut. Our friends had just arrived with a bunch more of their nieces and nephews, in town for a wedding. I think the final count was eleven. I’m telling you, they multiply.

Next I was out wading in the shallows with Aman and Noor, playing in the waves and watching out for them. Although it was a calm day, the currents can still be treacherous, so I had them on an extremely short leash. But they had a tonne of fun and I was soaked. I hadn’t thought I’d be in the water so I hadn’t worn my bathing suit. Sometimes, I really am an idiot. From the hut we heard Zara calling us. The man with the camel had arrived. So we dripped our way back up the beach and climbed aboard the ship of the desert.

I don’t know if you’ve ever ridden a camel before (I hadn’t) but it has its ups and downs. The stinky beast is on his knees when you climb on, so as it rises to its feet, you go careening backward and then flying forward in such a way that makes you feel that your taking a nose dive for sure. Same goes for getting off, except it’s somehow worse. I thought it was a lot of fun, but I couldn’t quite enjoy it completely because I was also caging in the three girls. That poor camel. Three squirming kids and one huge Canadian. Beast of burden indeed. I enjoyed the take off and landing, but the actual ride on the camel is a bit of a ball buster. It’s definitely the most fun thing you can do that smells terrible…. Well.. almost.

After two trips down the beach and back, and shouts of "Again!" I explained that the camel was thirsty so we’d better head back to the hut. I arrived and was handed the best tasting beer of my life. Like sweet ambrosia it slid down my throat. Beautiful. A snake charmer wandered by and entranced his cobra to the mixed fear and delight of the kids. I wasn’t too happy myself, but having faced the wild Black Mamba in Uganda, I wasn’t too worried about the house-trained cobra.

Since I was soaked, covered in sand and smelling like a camel, I secured the kids with Sophs and wandered into the water for a nice long swim. When I got back, the hotdogs were ready and the sun was setting. Another beer made the moment into one of perfection as I sat in a lounge chair taking in the colours. Not too much later we convoyed back into the city where I hoped that having worn out the kids at the beach, the rest of the evening would be quiet.

But of course not. I went to McDonalds and ordered more chicken McNuggets than is generally recommended by the Surgeon General. Meera came over for a visit, and the girls started to get ready for the long anticipated, "Midnight Snack." About eleven Sophie crashed. I felt sorry for her. She’s just little. This was a big bite to attempt chewing. She went for a "nap" in her mom’s room, but I knew that was t last I would see of her conscious form. Then I realized, Hey! I didn’t see her building sand forts, walking horses, riding camels, and playing life-guard, and she's the one who gets to sleep? But she did drive to and from the beach for the first time, so that’s pretty draining. Nevertheless, that meant that the rest of the Sleep Over was in my hands.

The girls were hopeful that Sophie would wake up in time for the midnight snack, but I knew that there was no chance in Hades that that would come to pass. Sania came over, so she ended up being my "date" for the midnight snack, which I hadn’t realized was such a fancy affair. We were seated and then waited upon by our three waitresses. I ordered potato chips, and a Jello with Cantebury (cranberry) juice to drink. Sania ordered a Kit-Kat and Jello and received a complementary glass of water. The snack over with, we transferred Sophie into the room and got the girls ready for bed. This time I was the one who said, "Ok, we’re going to wait for Yasser to pick up Sania, so when I come back, you’d best be lying in your beds talking quietly. Quickly Zara piped up, "But David, you don’t smoke."

"That’s true," I said, "but I may start."