Mrs. Hashimoto is sitting in the library. I have to issue some books for the school. The library is dark with a desk too big for the space available, and bookcases seem crammed into corners. Luckily our librarian is a small young lady and can fit in. Next to it, separated by the wall of books, is the students' lavatory.
Mrs Hashimoto has the carriage and the build of an opera singer. Her hair is a deep red - almost maroon. She has the bluest eyes I have seen, a deep, translucent blue that has been plucked from the Pacific Ocean. There are freckles on her porcelain white skin.She is from New Zealand (not, as first appears, from Japan). She greets me with a strange interrogative sentence.
"Hajimemashite," she says.
She has a perfect Japanese accent and a twang when she speaks English. She resents being called Australian or Aussie. She is the librarian at a local school - not far from our little section. She exudes culture and grace. and moves with an assured confidence of a woman who has been in Pakistan for some time.
Intrigued by my situation, she offers to arrange digs for me nearby. Her friend, a Mrs Smythe, is an English woman married to a Pakistani and has a ground room for rent. It is off Tariq Road, one of the main shopping centres of the city. We arrange to go the next day...
Mrs Hashimoto has the carriage and the build of an opera singer. Her hair is a deep red - almost maroon. She has the bluest eyes I have seen, a deep, translucent blue that has been plucked from the Pacific Ocean. There are freckles on her porcelain white skin.She is from New Zealand (not, as first appears, from Japan). She greets me with a strange interrogative sentence.
"Hajimemashite," she says.
She has a perfect Japanese accent and a twang when she speaks English. She resents being called Australian or Aussie. She is the librarian at a local school - not far from our little section. She exudes culture and grace. and moves with an assured confidence of a woman who has been in Pakistan for some time.
Intrigued by my situation, she offers to arrange digs for me nearby. Her friend, a Mrs Smythe, is an English woman married to a Pakistani and has a ground room for rent. It is off Tariq Road, one of the main shopping centres of the city. We arrange to go the next day...
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