I'd like to talk about the old city of Lahore, which is the walled area in the north of the city where my mother's family has lived for generations. I live in a newer suburb now, but I still go there most weekends to visit my aunt.
It's a dense maze of narrow streets, some so narrow that two people have to turn sideways to pass. The houses are tall and thin, built of small reddish bricks, with wooden balconies that lean out over the street. There are thirteen old gates around it, though some have disappeared, and there are mosques, old havelis, which are courtyard mansions, and tiny shops in every doorway.
Daily life there is incredibly busy. People shop for cloth, spices, wedding jewellery and brass pots, each in its own street. Men sit outside shops drinking tea, children play cricket in tiny squares, and motorbikes somehow squeeze through everything. In the evenings, food streets fill with families eating grilled meat and sweets.
What I love is its energy and history. Every corner has a story, and my aunt can tell you who lived in each house fifty years ago. It feels very alive, not like a museum. However, there are serious problems too. The wiring is dangerous, with hundreds of cables hanging across the streets, and some beautiful old buildings are collapsing because owners can't afford repairs. Traffic is a nightmare, and in summer it's suffocatingly hot. I'm an architect, so I'd really love to work on restoring some of those havelis one day, in a way that keeps the families living there.