When we moved to Pakistan, we spent a few days in Tokyo. Dad had lived there during the Korean War and wanted to show Mom the Japan he loved. Before we left, Mom let me choose a Japanese doll and a lacquer box as souvenirs. I picked out a red and gold box right away, but choosing the doll was harder. I wanted a delicate Geisha in a pink kimono, holding a parasol with cherry blossoms. But Mom, who studied design at Berkeley, chose a simple wooden doll for me instead. I was disappointed. It didn’t even have arms or legs!

The narrow road from Murree wound through the Himalayas, descending 7,500 feet onto the sweltering, Indus Plain. The journey in the back seat of a speeding mini-van left me nearly revisiting my breakfast. I was a high school freshman on a field trip to the Rawalpindi Leprosy Hospital.