During consciousness and intoxication, mysterious forces within and outside have danced to the intensity of my passion. The symphony of my determination to make them dance has never fallen weak nor faltered.

Monday, January 31, 2011

The Veena Malik conundrum


If Pakistan was a secular country, Veena Malik would not have received as much attention as she has. There is no real middle ground in the spectrum of ideology in Pakistan any more. To say that there are different types of liberals is also somewhat incognitive, you are either a liberal who accepts the rights and freedoms that the left-wing built its foundations on, or you reject it completely. A large majority of so-called liberals are still mowing in between or sitting on the fence, picking and choosing what's right and wrong on individual merit. They are lost in understanding the very fundamental liberties which form the roots of a secular society. These rights and freedoms that come with a secular society can not be challenged by the establishment or the people within. I wish Pakistan was that type of a society. The problem is, the majority in Pakistan is not liberal and reject secularism. They are overwhelmingly right-wing conservatives - just as some of the Southern states of the US. So why is it so that in a democratic Pakistan, Veena Malik has hurt the sentiments of the majority?

The ones calling for Veena Malik to be left alone, or aspiring to push their weight behind Veena Malik in newspapers will only be tweeting/writing English articles to the small minority formed by a trabecular network of likeminded individuals. These voices, however, fall on deaf ears when taken in the context that liberals make less than a couple percent of Pakistans 169 million population.


Bravo!

Veena Malik's ostentatious expressions of being victimized by everyone in the media and society, her uncanny histrionics and the unforgettable verbal clobbering of Mufti Saheb deserve an Oscar. Many will hold that moment on TV close to their hearts; rarely have I ever seen as pure a liberal as one can be - taking on a mullah, so furiously. The fact that it took a woman to find that strength has to applauded. However, it is hard to forget that she is an actor by profession & handling herself on camera is her day job. Regardless, her brave conviction and ability to hold her own as a working woman supporting her family in Pakistan is commendable. That been said, she and all other liberals need to step off the popular fallacy that the general public needs to listen to them simply on the basis of their idea of civic virtues. Instead it's time to listen to the people and and address their sentiments too. The journalists who chose to oppose Veena Malik's actions are merely voices representing the popular dismay of the general public towards her actions.

For the life of me, I will never understand why issues like these raise more debate than finding ways to help the ordinary people of Pakistan out of the crisis that has mauled them,. The people are unable to afford basic food, shelter, millions of children are still at risk of diseases and malnutrition after the floods of 2010, communicable diseases are rampant, poverty and crime are rising, public schools are being rented out for other businesses and inflation are the real issues. Millions of ordinary people can't afford antibiotics to treat a minor ailment, treatment of more serious patients in government hospitals maybe free but I'll have to write another blog entry on how difficult and painstaking that process is for the average person. All the while private hospitals enjoy lucrative incomes. The social elite can get their botox injections and face lifts from a variety of cosmetic clinics opening up - though none offer any treatment for the callous mind. Where have we gone wrong? Why do we blame the common man living in dire straits for putting all his eggs in conservative basket? If they feel let down by Veena Malik today, it is because their civic virtues stem directly from religion. And if religion is all there is left for those who have no hope, you can't expect them to accept Veena Malik with open arms and garlands.

"I need a roof over my head, an education, and some food please" Still a Flood Victim

Maybe I am biased, maybe it's because I think Mohammad Asif is the greatest gift to fast bowling since Glen McGrath, which automatically excludes me from Veena Malik fan club. I could care less if tomorrow she is answerable to the people of Islamic Republic of Pakistan. She is a shrewd woman who knew exactly what she was doing when she made her decisions to performs "tasks" like sleeping with another man in a reality tv show. It would be imprudent to think Miss Malik did not expect the backlash and controversy upon her return home. It is no secret that in the entertainment industry, celebrities thrive on controversy. And when have celebrities not enjoyed revelling in the publicity they receive? Isn't that how they raise their stocks? Somewhere, Veena Malik is signing contracts for future shows and endorsements with a grin on her face - patting her own back at how her carefully conceived plan has swelled into a storm of attention, one that she desperately needed in her dwindling career.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Pressure of a Surgery Exam? Next to none.


Pressure? What pressure? I'ts what makes the kettle whistle.
I was talking to a friend recently, who is currently taking what is probably one of the most challenging, exhaustive, demanding and the most nerve wrecking set of exams on the face of this earth. That's right! Im talking about The Final Professional Examination in MBBS. Where all five years come together to bite you in the ass one last time. Months of endless studying, practicing and perfecting your clinical methods, and it all boils down to individual days of judgement. Let me walk you through what is an average exam for a medical student at Allama Iqbal Medical College's affiliate Jinnah Hospital when they walk in one fine morning ready (or not) to give their surgery practical/viva examination. This one day exam may run anywhere from 5 to 7 hours, depending on what the situation is. My Medicine exam started at 9AM and ended at 4:30PM. But I'm not going to talk about that today. Instead, I'm going to talk about my experience from the day of my surgery exam.

Wake up early morning, after a night of terrorising nightmares and waking up to the feeling of your heart beating faster than you can count. Taking a cold shower is important - followed by a clean shave, not taking any chances with a goatee on this blessed day. Pick out your favourite shirt and a neat tie will always land extra points (read on). Eat a light breakfast, count and check all the utensil and things you need on this glorious day to perform basic surgical methods. Also make sure your coat is as flawless white as it can be. The drive from where I lived in Cantt to Jinnah Hospital is painstakingly long and with the early morning traffic it is also very frustrating. I generally avoid calling any of my friends to talk about how they're feeling. That, I came to realise is a recipe for giving yourself unneeded stress at a time you need to stay calm. If it's a last minute freak out; call them up and ask for what you need.

8:45AM you walk into Surgery Unit I and find yourself among a hundred of your classmates ready for battle. You will find here a wide variety of the type of students that exist in medical school. The standard nerd who studied all year (no wait, all five years) and he has at least five guys huddled around him asking him questions to which he is parroting answers like no tomorrow. You have the type who know they're about to get royally f%$#ed - their facial expressions, the quiet demeanour, the oblivious look on their face when they hear something from the parrot that everyone else knows except them - it really is a sorry sight (and I have been in those shoes once). Also, you will find the super-freak, he will be freaking out so bad you'll wonder if he has taken PCP before arriving. He will be holding Bailey & Love (the heaviest text book in the world!) and flipping through pages like a mad man. He will rush from one group of students to another, asking the most irrelevant questions, but if someone else happens to know the answer, he will believe he's left behind in the race of life. Eventually, he will walk into a corner alone with his head buried in the book. He will do this until its 9AM - nothing unusual, we're all used to it after all these years. People like R naturally find it difficult to control their nerves in tense situations. Then there are the average people, who I get along with so well - we embrace each other in hugs as we meet, and have a few laughs. Deep down, we're content with our preparation for the day and now its time to let destiny take over. The tension between us is obvious despite our frail attempts at laughing it off . My restless leg syndrome is a fair testament to that. This is a tense experience for all of us. Margin of error is little, say one word the professor didn't want to hear from you and you're in a hole; say more than you were asked and land yourself in more trouble; one ill timed action while performing physical examination and you're toast; perform one task less, i.e forget to greet the patient when meeting him/her, forget asking for consent (cardinal sin), forget to re-drape the patient after examination and so on. An endless list of important routines that must be followed. And if you don't, it can cost you big time here. Controlling your nerves is the most important part, or so I've concluded in my mind. If we fail even one part of this exam by one mark, we will have to give the entire Surgery exam once again (including the two part written exams we gave earlier); nobody...nobody wants to go through that experience. Studying surgery all over again is not a cake walk.

8:55AM Everyone is busy making their last prayers, 100 students will be divided into four groups and sent to each of the four Surgery wards in our hospital. Each ward will be carrying out examinations. All the students are praying they don't get sent to Surgery Unit 3, anywhere but there! because Professor A.F is well known for failing majority of the students that appear. As students are divided into four batches, it turns out I'm going to Surgery Unit 3. Im smiling on the outside, but inside my head I'm screaming "F&^%!!" at the top of my lungs. The only positive in all this is that during my final year session, I had rotations in this unit and though the professor is quite demanding, he usually knows students with good work ethics who attended his ward. I busted my ass off all year, and especially in his ward. So I'm hoping that somehow I left a good impression on him (that is, if he remembers).

9:00AM: First part of the exam is about to start (OSCE). There are 15 stations inside a conference room, each having a piece of paper with questions on it, some stations will have radiographs, some will have surgical instrument, IVP, a CT scans etc along with two interactive stations with two Professors of Surgery, an internal examiner who is the notorious professor of Surgical Unit 3 (Dr AF), and one from Services Hospital Lahore. Both of them will be spending 5 minutes each with every student and ask their questions. The exam begins, I am able to diagnose cases at most of the stations. As I get closer to the professors though, I can hear them diagnosing which books my fellows read for surgery, AF has this sixth sense of knowing exactly which book you studied from after hearing your answers. The famous book, Shamim's Surgery, is quite a hot favourite among final year medical students, but if anyone mentions that they studied it to the professor - they are destined for failure. Luckily, I stayed away from that book. Im starting to freak out as I can hear Prof AF grilling students. Im first seated with the external professor, the one from Services Hospital, he has a radiograph showing air fluid levels in the intestines. Ah si! intestinal obstruction! a lightbulb turns on in my head as I answer his initial questions before I confuse myself and him with my lack of knowledge on the electrolyte imbalance following intestinal obstruction. He is not happy and instead of moving onto the next question, he is insistent on hearing my answer. He is waiting for me to say something really stupid, but Im not going to show him my cards in that manner. I will fold and stay quiet and let time run. I start to feel as if he's going to fail me so I try an answer, only to hear "vhat!?" from him. Oops! should've stayed quiet. Back to silence. Times running out, he changes his question and I answer the next one in galloping rhythms. Bell rings and now its time for the real deal, Prof. AF awaits. I sit infront of him and I see a T-tube between us on the table and his only question is to identify what it is and give 5 uses. I take less than 30 seconds in answering. He is impressed. Before anything else he says "that's a very nice tie you're wearing". And life is good!
Then he asks me about what book I read, and the default answer is "Baily & Love, sir", he asks how I read and retained such a big book. I told him I made notes of important topics, while I used other books for less important topics. In reality, I studied from this amazing Indian book called Manipal Manual of Surgery, but telling Prof AF that you studied any book other than Bailey & Love is like shooting yourself in the foot. First part of the exam is over and I am off to a good start. Onto the next part; short cases.

10AM: We are taken to Surgery Unit 2, where 25 of us are packed into one small room where there are a total of 5 seats. Comfort is a luxury nobody cares for. Next part of the exam, we'll each have to appear infront of two different professors one by one and we'll be given a case for which we have to perform the corresponding physical examination and present our findings to the professor - all within 5 minutes time limit. While everyone is crammed in this tiny room, there's hardly enough room to breathe, the level of stress is also rising, the students are busy discussing last minute methods, some of them have only done these methods a few weeks ago. Others, have been practising all year. There's a vast difference in performance, the confidence, the control, the intricacy and calmness of the two groups. An examiner can easily tell which student has been practising for a while, as opposed to someone who only recently began practising methods. I walk into the examination room and am assigned a patient, the external examiner here is from Punjab Medical College in Faisalabad, and I have a hernia patient. I remember examining atleast a fifty patients with hernia during my surgery rotations in S3, piece of cake!? not this case, he has a direct hernia which is not very common in elderly males, or does he? A direct hernia is what I believe he has after performing my examination, but maybe I'm wrong? could I be wrong? because I havent seen a patient like that before! Usually elderly males have indirect hernia's, I can't recall seeing a direct hernia in an older male before! ahhh the confusion! I tell the professor my findings and he is not very happy! but he can tell I am not sure of what type of hernia it is. He asks me to explain my reasoning, and I do so extensively. My clinical methods were all right, but correlating my finding with theory is where hernia can cause problems for medical students. I get out of it without making a meal of the situation - Im treading on the borderline in terms of if I'll pass or fail that case. Onto the next case, I have to quickly put the past behind me and concentrate on what's here and lo behold, it's diabetic foot, that's gonna stink! but Ive grown accustomed to the stink in surgery. I had a similar case for my ward test earlier in the year, and I nailed it. Should be easy again - I go through the check list in my head for examination of the ulcer, I do an arterial exam and local nodes for good measure, and present my findings to the professor. I go in such detail that time runs out, but who cares - he is happy. If he gives me good marks, I'll probably compensate for messing up on the hernia. Hope for the best and off we go onto the next part of the exam.

12 noon: We rush back to Surgery Unit 3 for the last part of the exam, the dreadful long-case. This is the part where everyone draws a number, and are allotted a bed with a patient on it. You take a full history of the patient, do a full physical examination, and then the specific examination. Last, you draw your diagnosis. But the main part is yet to come, knowing the diagnosis will get you 1/5 marks, if you're completing medschool - you are expected to know how to manage the patient, so you're supposed to know the complete treatment and related information to whatever the patients diagnosis is. If my luck couldn't get any worse, I draw a bed number on which there's a patient with a caste wrapped all around his leg. An orthopaedics case!!?!?! This is quite possibly the worst case anyone could have! "Why the f%@* do they have a orthopaedics case here!?" is all I'm repeating in my head.


I had only studied orthopaedics before my written exam, and as if the rest of surgery isn't enough, ortho is a whole different field on its own! Its very unusual to find this case here. I am now sweating a little, legs starting to tremble, ears must be red - ahh am I crumbling under pressure?! I tell myself to stay calm and get on with what I can do in my capacity with this patient - I can take a good history! I can do a mean general physical examination! Looking around at my colleagues, I can see one guy adjacent to my patients bed sweating like a pig. He has a patient with a case of undescended testis - but by the looks of it, my friends' testis have ascended so far up his spermatic cord that he is not sure where he is anymore. I tell him to calm his ass down, I studied Urogenital System last night so I knew quite a bit about his case. I share whatever I could about its management and tell him to wipe the sweat off his face. Geez! the thing I hate about people in medical school is unneeded tension they build up for everyone around them! It becomes contagious, now Im worried too! The House Officer on duty conducts a round to see if everyone's completed the necessary work before the oral exam starts. He tells me I need not to do a complete examination as the patient is immobilized. That's a relief, now I can concentrate my energies on trying to figure out what type of fracture this person has and how it is managed. But before I get time, the first examiner walks in. I begin with my history, and that I do impressively, I would always volunteer to present history in wards and the practise has made me confident. The professor is more than satisfied. He asks me my diagnosis before asking me the classification of fractures. I can hardly remember but I gave him a half-ass answer, and that seemed to have confused him, as he tries unsuccessfully to remember the classification himself. Obviously, he's not an orthopeadic surgeon. Followed by an entourage of house officers and attendings, he doesn't dwell in any further and says "ok good" and walks away. That wasn't too bad. If he had asked me any more questions than the two that he asked, I would've not known the answers. Now I'm really starting to worry, Prof. A.F is here and he starts taking vivas. Im going to be the last person left in the room, which means I have to stand and watch him tear other students up. Waiting bedside with my patient and watching as he rips new ones into students before me, I am officially starting to feel the butterflies in my stomach and my mind relapsing to glorious moments of medical school rapings that I have had to bear on my journey to getting here. Finally, my turn arrives, he is also with his entourage of house officers and attendings, they really know how to put you on the spot! Dr AF begins by checking my clerkship record, I attended surgery wards since third year of medschool so I know Im good on that. He asks me to present my history - once again, I give him a long well thought out history using words even I don't remember the meaning of (I am hoping he still likes my tie), he asks me why I think it's a road traffic accident. "Because the patient told me so". Just to make sure, he cross-checks with the patient. Fair enough. He moves onto the management of this patient, I give him my sloppy version. He is somewhat dissatisfied, but I think he still likes my tie. He asks me about the types of immobilization in fracture management, and about what type of fracture I think this patient has and why. I give him sharp answers, honest but not confident. He nods before asking me about possible complications that this patient may eventually have. I do not have them memorized as a list in my head, but thinking logically, I muster up a few. He isnt very happy but its better than nothing. He smiles and walks away. I am adamant in my head that I must've failed! And that's the end of my oral surgery exam at nearly 2PM. He walks away and one of the house officer stays behind and tells me that I did well, much better than others who had the same patient on previous days of examination. I am so relieved. All I'm looking forward to now is going home and sleeping for a day!

In the end, you can prepare all year and study as much as you want, but if you don't stay calm and collected you are going to risk losing it all. Also if you do not practise your methods all year, you can't expect yourself to do well in the practical examinations in final year of MBBS, which are probably a lot more important than written. You have to work all your life dealing with patients not with books, so it's important to lay strong foundations starting in medical school. Its also to be noted that there is a lot of luck involved, but my definition of luck is when opportunity meets preparation. If you are not prepared - you are not going to be lucky.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Pity the nation.... by Khalil Gibran

Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave,
eats a bread it does not harvest,
and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero,
and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity a nation that despises a passion in its dream,
yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
save when it walks in a funeral,
boasts not except among its ruins,
and will rebel not save when its neck is laid
between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox,
whose philosopher is a juggler,
and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,
and farewells him with hooting,
only to welcome another with trumpeting again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years
and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments,
each fragment deeming itself a nation

Thursday, January 13, 2011

a divide so resilient

If the time had not come earlier, it has now. People are choosing which side of the spectrum their ideology lies on. From now, you're either a liberal, or an extremist. If you reject one, you are automatically considered the other. Observing from the sidelines, with an open mind, I have been following news articles, blogs and tweets quite closely. I've come to a few conclusions of my own here. In a profusely uneducated society, that is now become of Pakistan, it is not difficult to mould peoples thinking to your liking. And the number of such people, ready to follow you over a cliff, are growingly increasing. So on both sides, there are people who are actively brainwashing anyone who is ready to listen.


So what becomes of us now? The battle lines are clearly drawn. The liberals have had it with the extremists, and for right reasons. The horrendous murder of Salman Taseer is inexcusable. Salman Taseer was a shining beacon for human rights and equality for minorities living under one flag. His bravery is lauded even as far as India. Many claim that he is the first politician in all of South Asia to be a voice for the minority. After Salman Taseers murder, the fanatics on the right came out 40 000 strong in Karachi to protest against making any changes to the blasphemy law. As lawyers and others hailed Taseer's assassin, Mumtaz Qadri, as a hero and showered him with rose petals and garlands in Islamabad. Somewhere in Karachi, a lunatic mullah called for the head of Sherry Rehman. While the liberals were busy tweet-bashing extremists and playing victim, they could only manage a modest gathering of 300 odd for a candle light vigil in Lahore. Lousy turn up from a city that boasts a DHA (upscale neighbourhood) that never stops expanding. Is that a clear indication that Pakistan is an extremist country? Absolutely not - and here's why.

The divide between the rich and the poor in Pakistan has grown exponentionally over the past few years. The middle class, if one still exists, is dwindling to an all time low. You are either rich, or you are poor. It is safe to say, that the vast majority of the so-called liberals in Pakistan are the elite class. These people will have little knowledge or care for the cost of the most basic amenities in life such as sugar, milk, flour, vegetables. Their dinner for two at a lavish restaurant on any given night may well exceed the entire months salary paid to an average Pakistani. They have power generators producing enough electricity to run all the air conditioners at home. They have their fancy cars and their chauffeurs . Their children attend schools where the annual fee would put many universities in the West to shame. What's worse is that in their minds they live in a utopia that doesn't exist for the masses. The fundo's on the other hand, are the people of lower socio economic status. They are the real victims of the ailing economy, the ones who cut corners and work labouring jobs, they cry foul when gas price goes up, when they can't afford sugar, when they can't find flour to cook roti, can't find decent jobs, can't send their children to decent schools, and are sick and tired of paying rising electricity bills and living without power for half their day. Inflation has left them hopeless. This class of people are the ones who are leaning more and more towards extremism. To them, Salman Taseer, was a representative of the most corrupt government in Pakistani history. How can it be that the masses are living in such abhorrent conditions - being squeezed like oranges, while the ruling elite is enjoying an opulent life style? How long did they really think the masses would sit back and let them continue their charade of corruption and tyranny? Religion is, naturally, what anyone who is losing hope in society turns to. It is in the Masajids that they find Ullema who are devoid of any real knowledge, but have plenty hatred to share. They preach ideas of revolting against a system that has failed them. They preach intolerance and put insecurities in the hearts of the masses. Questioning them would surely land anyone in hot water. The Ullema use examples such as Salman Taseer to leverage their case infront of the masses, they will say "Oh look, now he is trying to change the Blasphemy law, he is an enemy of Islam". And the masses will believe it because they have been let down by the very system that put him in power. So, it is not that Pakistan is a largely extremist country. Infact, it is still very tolerant and loving at its core, but the masses are being pushed to the extreme because of poor governance, corrupt leadership, struggling economy and last, dangerous mullahs.


The right and left are both quite rhetoric yet redundant in their approach, as they are not ready to tolerate each other any longer. What is needed is a strong center, diplomacy between all sides, and of course better governance. If anyone planned to use Salman Taseer's death as a stepping stone to divide and turn people against each other, it has worked like a charm. Steps to reconcile differences must begin immediately, this is a war the liberals simply can not win by tweeting anti-mullah slogans and hoping democracy will save us eventually. They need to realize that their efforts should concentrate towards the genesis of the problem. After all, if the ruling elite can not do that, who else can? It is only after this that we can put a lid on the hate-spewing mullah's. Declaring an all out us vs. them war against our own people is the worst possible scenario for us. While the liberals bandwagon is seeing a growing number of passengers, it is seemingly being driven on an ultimate bridge to no where. For a brighter future, we need to find a way to accommodate everyone in the social economic system. The right is helpless in this regard as they are not gifted with the diverse knowledge and intelligence that the liberals may have but that does not make them purblind either. Our visions must improve enough to see a similar future for a prosperous Pakistan, but for that we need to bring the masses back from the grips of the Mullahs who have them wrapped around their fingers. We can do that by giving them hope. The enlightened ones of the society, must take responsibility and focus on holding the government responsible and making sure people of low socio economic status are looked after and given reasons for a better tomorrow. There is no point in creating an enemy with whom we share our home with. Let's try and work it out.



twitter.com/saidcantweet

"Nothing would remain of Islam but the name, and nothing would remain of the Qur’an but the traces; the Masajid would be grand structures but would be devoid of guidance; and the Ulama would be the worst people beneath the sky. From them would emerge Fitnah and they would be the centers of Fitnah…" Sunan al-Tirmidhi

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Trip to Jordan

On board Air Canada flight from Toronto to London Heathrow, the peace was disturbed as soon as a Pakistani family of four entered the plane. The two children crying and incessantly fighting with each other, and their parents paying no heed to the disturbance being caused. They made everyone wait behind them in aisle while taking their sweet time getting settled in. Unfortunately, they were sitting right behind me. I was sitting adjacent to a lady from Ohio, with whom I had a fruitful conversation. We discussed politics in America, I told her about douche bag extraordinaire Glen Beck's Christmas Special live from a small town in Ohio. Eventually we started discussing airport security and how she finds it annoying to travel from the States as there are constant announcements and warnings about terror threats and what not. "Have you ever had any problems at the airport because you are middle eastern?" was her most venerating question. "No, never. Its surprising to me that I've never been subjected to extra security check" was my reply. "Yeah you look like someone who should be stopped..." umm WTF? That's when I put my headphones on and tried to sleep. The annoying kid sitting behind me kicked the back of my seat throughout the 7 hour flight. #FML


Now, from the pictures I saw of the Queen Alia Airport in Amman, it looked fantastic. But upon arrival, my expectations were crushed as I saw a terminal which looked under construction for the most part. Wires dangling from the ceiling overhead, small hallways, escalators not working and an environment that felt claustrophobic. I felt like I was in a bus stop in Pakistan - surely, even Islamabad Airport is better than this was my first thought. They could even take lessons on building a decent airport from Lahore. Things went from sublime to absurd when I saw a huge line up of tourists waiting to get visa for entry into Jordan. While citizens of the country conveniently flew through immigration, the tourists were stuck in what seemed like the slowest moving line ever. Most of the world's countries trying to attract tourists create a system which is more accommodating to those visiting, but not here - I had to wait an hour in a line before I got my visa. As I got closer to being served, I realised there's a VIP service that takes 10JD and expedites the process, thereby you don't have to wait in the long line. What B.S!


Queen Alia Airport (a fairly deceptive picture)