(Other misconceptions I had for those keeping score: 1. That Islamabad would be in a desert wasteland like the Middle East, which it is nowhere near, 2. That I would always have to wear a head scarf in public, and 3. That I would definitely want to live in the "cool" diplomatic enclave near the Embassy which turned out to be neither cool nor a place I would ever live.)
In the beginning, I stuck pretty close to Nirvana, the trendy salon/cafe frequented by expats which was located near my first office. It offered a strange but fairly yummy burger (hallmark qualities: cucumbers instead of pickles and an artful smear of ketchup and mustard diagonally across the plate for the sake of presentation). Nirvana was the only restaurant to stay open during Ramadan and also had the most delicious smoothies in town, including the Triple Strawberry which one of our consultants on the project called "better than sex." (I am only quoting here.)
Charbroiled, slightly misshapen, helpfully topped by one of the kids with a slice of cheese, and offered with hand-made secret sauce, my last delicious cheeseburger in Pakistan was eaten in the intimacy of someone's home, surrounded by great company, in the relaxed vibe of good friendship. I thought if I moved to Pakistan I wouldn't get to eat cheeseburgers while I was away. I was wrong about that and lots of other things. I got plenty of cheeseburgers, and much, much more.