So, yeah, this is my crib. It's modest, sure, but what foreign correspondent can't rough it in a centuries-old three story stone and wood gathering hall? No, just kidding, my house is a teeny little stone thingie Next to this behemoth, over looking this garden, which is pretty stinking great.
Here's Hussain and I just chillin in my great room. He's the manservant/gardener/cook of the estate, and pretty much just an all around good and chipper chap of 19. Also needed to show folks the beard, which you can sort of but not really get a good feel for here, and also show Mom that I'm wearing necklace she gave me. =)
View of garden from my computer window as dusk approaches.
And this is our landlord, Iftikhar Jalali, a jovial, retired chap who does little more than stroll the grounds and take lengthy naps. Always in the best of moods, greeting me on the phone or in person as if he has never had a greater pleasure. And of course little Azuf, his grandson, every grounds must have a terror. He is ours. Darling boy, but why did I ever give him those squirt guns (Chaunce, you remember when we bought them in....what was that town called? A bunch ended up in little Kashmiri hands.)