Gone Fishing

My time in Korea and my travel in Bangladesh have both come to an end.  I have since returned to more 'normal' everyday life back in Canada, bringing a close to this blog for the time being.

I hope you enjoy the posts that are here, and I wish you much joy, wonder, and excitement in your own life.

Until next time,
~Shauna

Bangladesh MiniMiniMini-MINI Update

For those of you who aren't on facebook but are wondering where I've gotten to I am safe and sound still in Bangladesh.  I am in Rajshahi with friends, heading town-by-town south to Kuakata over the next two weeks until I have to leave on the 25th.

I haven't checked my email in some time so please don't be worried that you haven't heard from me if you have written.  I am not anywhere with good internet and it was all the patience I had to wait for this page to load to send an ALL-CLEAR broadcast so nobody was worried  :)

Things are great here, my health and happiness are fine and I am quite fine away from technology. I admit that I *have been writing on my computer to keep updated on my travel writing, and I will upload that as soon as I'm able.

I hope that life is good wherever you are, and I will upload my past week of exploits as soon as I'm able.  Much love,

S.

A Little TOO Quiet!!

After a 35 minute CNG ride there and a 30 minute wait in line I found out that my train was late. 

"Late?" I asked.  "Oh... Well, I will wait, no problem.  How late is it?" (famous last words) 

'3 hours delay miss, maybe more, maybe many more, maybe no.'
"No? No like no train?"

"No, there is train.  No now.  Maybe no later.  Maybe very later.  But train coming."

So it will come eventually?"

"Ji.  I think"

So, we determined that there was a berth available, and I bouth a ticket for the train that is now leaving at 11pm, provided it decides to come at all.  I was wondering what on earth I was going to do with myself at 5am when I arrived in Dinajpur anyway, so the universe solved the problem for me!  Thanks, Universe.

After I bought my ticket I walked away from the railway station and caught a CNG from the market stalls - THOSE people aren't trying to jack the railway passengers, so I got a metered fare again, my favourite!  Only, the CNG managed to break down about a 20 minute walk from home, so I walked the rest of the way once he pushed the thing over to the side.  And, because nobody likes to have a broken vehicle, I still tipped the man, it wasn't his fault it quit on him.

Now I'm back at the apartment for a bit longer since I didn't feel like I had the stamina for a 3 hour 1:150 people staring contest  :)  In about 15 minutes I will get dressed in "outside clothes" and make my way back to the station!
Better luck this time??   :)

P.S. - Mom, I promise I will email again as soon as I have a computer, but I know a person or two up there so all should be great!  :)  If there's no email then don't worry, I'll message from Rajshahi on Sunday, and i'll be back in Dhaka around the 13th... Love you!  Thanks for always having my back!

Calm and Quiet and On My Way North

Hello online world, and friends and family!


Things have been calm and quiet (for me) over the past few days in Bangladesh. There was a strike yesterday that kept me from travelling north, and it has now ended. There were some deaths, and many injuries, but I kept myself far removed from the situation. For me, it was a couple of days of inner retreat and reflection, I went nowhere special and did nothing special, just spent time in my own space - something easy to avoid when I fill my days with the distraction of new destinations.


Apparently yesterday there were some tornadoes in the northern side of the country, a few hours from here. They actually touched down in an area that I've planned to go to this week, so I'm relieved they went through already and the weather outlook in those areas is now much calmer. I spoke to a few friends who live in small towns nearby and they said they had similar weather in the night (as we did in Dhaka), very severe winds and crazy heavy rains, but that for them overall things were fine. I feel selfish for being relieved that people I have met that were so good to me were not hurt in the mess, when I know so many others were hurt and even died. Natural disasters happen, they're unavoidable, but they are hard on the heart I'm afraid, nobody wins.

Things like tornadoes cause much injury, death, and destruction in rural areas here because so many things are built from the land, so they give easily and quickly in the times of natural disaster, and sometimes in flood and heavy windstorms... for us in the west, our homes often hold up much better. Thatched houses don't stand up to much outside the normal day-to-day weather spectrum, and there are no basements or bathtubs to hide in.


Tonight I am headed north to Dinajpur. I will be back in Dhaka by the 14th, taking the train up tonight, and then drifting my way downward until I end up back where I started.

The week following I plan to go south, drifting downward town by town until I reach the beaches of Kuakata in the south, in the Sundurbans, where I hear I would be wise to spend a few days rather than make it a hit-and-run stop, so I will heed the advice and spend a few days down there. I am looking forward to it... the beach is on the Bay of Bengal, where you can sit to watch the sunrise and set... it is also part of the Sundurbans, one of the country's national treasures, and the Rakhine tribe is native to that area, so I will also get to check out some handicrafts and traditional life if things go according to plan.


I will leave Bangladesh on the 25th, and at this point my return is uncertain, and it is becoming unlikely.  I am working outside the box once more and tossing many of my plans up in the air thanks to the invasion of unforseen commitments from home, but I will keep a level head about it, everything has a solution.  My trip looks nothing like it did when I started, but I don't lament that in the least.


is not my picture, but is Bangladesh

 So, for now, this is just me telling you that things here for me are peaceful and quiet, and I am on my way slowly north. Enjoy your week, I will be thinking of home even if I am not at the time writing.


Hey, have you noticed that after all this time I've yet to end up travelling in the back of a pickup truck with chickens?? Ha.

Travel Delays - Hangin' Out Where it's Safest

I was planning on taking the overnight train up to Dinajpur tomorrow, but I have had a change of plans.  I'll still go, but it will have to wait a bit. 

Bangladesh is having a country-wide strike (aka 'Hartal') tomorrow.  The UN and the US government has sent out advisories that travel should be avoided. 

At the moment I am in Dhaka.  I had planned on taking the overnight train into Dinajpur, it leaves (well, it left) at 8pm and arrives at about 6am.  I like overnights because it's nicer to sleep through most of the long journey and wake up there than to have to bump around and occupy myself for 10 hours while I wait to arrive! 

However, I decided to wait.

The strike isn't happening today, so things would have been safe to travel - tomorrow most big things will shut down, no buses, most offices will close, basically it sounds like most of the city stops, and the same happens across the country.  Call me crazy, but I figured I would rather be in a city that is familiar to me when something like this was going on, rather than arriving bright and early to disarray in an unfamiliar one without knowing which areas were safe and which weren't. 

So, I wanted to know more about WHY there is a strike going on, and what exactly a "hartal" was.  As usual I googled hartal and followed a Wiki link - it suggests that hartals are employed in this end of the world (including India, Sri Lanka, and Pakistan with Bangladesh) when the people don't like a decision the government has made.

This particular strike is being called for by the Islamic Law Implementation Committee (ILIC) protesting the National Women Development Policy (NWDP) 2011, and a few other things the government did back in March. 

I don't know much about Islam, about Muslim belief systems or legal systems, but being in a country that is primarily Muslim I am trying to learn.  I've actually even started reading the Qua'ran because I'd like to understand more about it all - I've read the Book of Mormon, the Bible, and a few other religious books, so why not the Qua'ran?  More on that another time perhaps.

Back to the strike.  The NWDP was started back in the late 90s attempting to give women in Bangladesh more rights - it was approved in early March of this year.   There is controversy (if I am understanding things correctly) from some of the Islamic groups because if it were law, it would interfere with Muslim family law (which I have no understanding of), and contradicts some of the teachings of the Qua'ran.  I pretend no knowledge in this area and therefore don't have an opinion yet, however, so I'm not about to go off at the mouth over it in a public forum. 

However, the part I don't understand, is that it is not LAW, it is a pledge by the government, a policy to further the rights women have in the country, so I'm not exactly sure why the strike is happening - the only thing that comes to mind is that there could be a fear for the lines of "progress" (my word, I think improving women's rights here WOULD be progress) that could be opened if indeed the government were successful in making changes that DID lead to new laws giving women more rights in the country.  In an article in the Daily Star...

"The policy upholds the rights of all women irrespective of their religions. Shirin Sharmin also said they would draw a national action plan based on this policy which will, “Provide women with full control over their right to land, earned property, health, education, training, information, inheritance, credit, technology and opportunity to earn… And enact necessary new laws to put these rights into practice."

ILIC chairman Mufti Fazlul Haque Amini...called the general strike on Mar 8 protesting the women's policy, the ban on fatwa by the High Court and the education policy."  [Full story link here]

So the issues for the ILIC are (1) the women's policy, (2) the High Court's ban on fatwa, and (3) the education policy.

"Wait a minutes, you lost me... what the heck is fatwa?" you ask?  Don't worry, I googled that too because I had no idea, so bear with me. 

Fatwa is an Islamic religious ruling (scholarly opinion, some would say) that is pronounced by recognized religious authorities in Islam.  It is not a law, as I understand it, but is meant to be read/heard and considered, and then you are to choose whether or not you support it/follow it or not as a Muslim, a follower of Islam.  It is your personal choice.

Sometimes they can be extremist in nature (like when Salmon Rushdie wrote Satanic Verses, Ayatollah Kohmeini (Iran's highest ranking political and religious authority at the time) issued a fatwa that actually ordered Rushdie and everyone associated with the book to be killed - you can look it up, I'm not trying to start any fights here; I was shocked by it myself because I had no idea there were public orders to KILL people - naive, naive, naive. 

[Read the wiki article here and decide for yourself what you think - there are lots of additional sources at the bottom of the article if you're interested.]

The fatwa remains in place today... The Iranian government supported the fatwa for almost 10 years before the President spoke against it, and it's apparently here to stay since the Ayatollah who issued it died.  Rushdie's translators in different countries were hurt of killed in response: craziness for this girl, that just all blew me away!!! Perhaps because the book was written in '88 and the fatwa issued in '89 and I was 12 at the time I didn't know any of this went on, but I'm making up for it now with the shock value... wow...

I want to note... I want so much to share the things I love about this country, to put into the light things that people never hear about in news stories, things that would make hearts glad and spirits smile, but tonight I'm in heartbreak about many things, so many sad things that continue to happen even today in the country, things that I just can't make room to understand or even begin to justify.

Bangladesh's government declared fatwas to be illegal last year (yay Bangladesh!), but there is another law, Islamic Sharia law (I am very confused and have had overload and will not be looking up anymore tonight) that people still use to make these more extremist fatwa pronouncements.  I dont' understand the system, so I can only speak to my dismay at their outcomes, their consequences, and I cannot speak to their cause or origin.

In looking for more information on all of this tonight I just read a story where in a 14-year old girl who was raped by her 40-year old married cousin was sentenced by fatwa (in February of this year) to a public lashing: 100 whip lashes - the victim, a child, ordered punished, and she died in hospital from the severity of her injuries before the punishment was finished; her rapist was sentenced to the same, but he "escaped to parts unknown." 

Truly, I want to throw up.  

I don't know if it was widely known at the time because I wasn't here.  I don't know if anyone tried to stop it from happening before it did.  I don't know if the whole country knew about it, or if they didn't hear about it until after it happened, I don't understand Sharia.  I don't know if anyone tried to save her, and I can't help but cry now for her. 

The Bangladeshi High Court is apparently looking to punish the people responsible, but I have yet to find out what came of it.  Kassandra said she was aware of it at the time, but I didn't ask for details, she said only that it was awful.  It is still awful.

Some things make me more grateful than others to have been born into the country, family, and ideological systems that I was.  So grateful.

Ok, attempting to move on... I got carried away because I was so shocked about the Rushdie ruling, and then worse by the child who died because of a community's fatwa, but I meant only to explain what it was.

It seems when I looked it up that most often fatwas seem to be religious opinions meant to govern how to live your life as a Muslim best in accordance with the Qu'aran, and they're not public death warrants on people.  The thing is that it seems that since the High Court in Bangladesh banned fatwas not everyone is happy about that. 

There is an AWFUL lot to learn being in a Muslim country...


So, what I started the night wanting to tell you was only that I am in Dhaka, I am safe and sound in the diplomatic area, happy and chilling out in my apartment.  I had a great day today thanks to 2 super friends at home and away, and tomorrow you will find me far from any news that is unlikely to even hit the fan internationally tomorrow.


In the event that there IS something about it on the news, you can just know I've kept myself safe and sound far from the "action," if there is any... the farthest I'll be going tomorrow is to the grocery store for some snacks on the train the next day - no worries!


PS - See, I make decisions in the interest of my safety, not just in the interest of my curiosity and my desire to move around and see stuff!

The Latest "Plan"

Okay.  So it should be obvious to anyone who has been reading my blog to this point that me and travel itineraries don't really live on the same plane of existence.  One word: PENCIL - I can only write them in pencil!!  However, that being said, some want to know what the heck I'm doing with myself so here you go...

I have a general idea about what I'm doing:

I think I mentioned that my friend Jill has changed over her travel plan and as such we're not doing the whole big thing together that we'd planned, yah?  And I think I already mentioned that I don't want to redo some of the places I've already seen since I'll be on my own, correct? 

So, here we go.  Plan B, or C.  Or maybe it's D... something like that...

Until near the end of April when my visa runs out I am going to keep my butt in sweet, beautiful Bangladesh. 

When the government MAKEs me leave (because that's what it's going to take!), I will head to lovely (if grossly touristy and polluted) Nepal for 2 weeks. 

After that I will come back to Bangladesh for a month before heading out for a month in Sri Lanka (which I am still very excited about) and a few weeks split between Laos and Thailand, and heading back to Canada for July 31st (Mom's birthday, I promised, but liklely not a day sooner!).
That, is my approximation of a new travel plan.  No map, no sticky notes, just a rough guess to answer curiousity. 

It's kind of a "plan."
Feel free to laugh now, I won't hear you.

Unexpected Expediency in a GOVERNMENT Office

That's right, I said expediency and government in the same sentence!

So I half-decided awhile ago and truly decided for sure in Rajshahi that I would not be leaving Bangladesh at the end of the month (which happens to be now!).  Plans have changed since my lovely friend Jill has decided to luxuriate in her Turkish experience, and I have no interest in visiting many of the places we'd thought to go on my own since I've already seen them.  Remember that map I posted awhile ago?  Well, fogeddaboudit, lol... allll different now - and just how different?  I'm afraid even I can't answer that question at the moment!


Anything I say in the here and now is pure speculation, because really I don't know what will happen when the time comes to decide.  I am easily moved to change my decisions at the moment, so I'll save you from speculation.


The fact is, Bangladesh has truly taken over my heart, and I have really no interest in leaving her beautiful lands and amazing people for anywhere else.  The government is going to make me leave at some point, because after all is said and done, my tourist visa was only valid for 30 days.  BUT, I'm pretty sure I can come back after I go out for a bit, so that is likely what I will do.


The past 2 days in Dhaka I have been doing a lot of sitting, a lot of writing, and a lot of waiting - the internet is SO stinkin' SLOW!!  Blogging is actually making me crazy today because it is taking me 3 times longer to write anything when I add photos since the uploader stalls repeatedly while I sit around and wait for it to get sorted.  However, I keep writing, because even NOW I'm only still writing about the beginning of the month - that 10 days with no computer KILLED me for keeping up with writing!!  :)


While in Rajshahi I couldn't upload my photos, so my friend Rana put them all on a CD for me.  Problem I didn't forsee at the time?  My netbook doesn't have a CD drive of course!  I will ask Kassandra later if I can use her Apple to load them to my zip drive and then I can post them later... there were some amazing sights to see in my first few days in Rajshahi, and I don't want to miss out on telling you about them!!


So today I did 2 things... 1, I spent almost 2 hours at the Western Union office trying to figure out how the $^#@! to get a money transfer over to my friend so that she isn't left eating rocks with an empty bank account (it's her money, it just happens to be in my account, thank you Korea!).  At the end of the day after 2 supervisors, 3 managers and a very embarassed desk clerk they had no flipping solution, except for me to have the bank wire the money to western union in Dhaka (where they will take a percentage and my bank will charge a fee), and then wire it to Jill (where they will charge the same percentage on what's left).  In the end she'll lose nearly $1,000 doing it that way, and that is not cool, so now I'm waiting to hear back from the Royal bank at home tonight.


Second, (this is actually the part about expediency and the government), I went over to the passport office to get my visa... remember the young fathead officer that sent me the wrong way (walking through the slums) when I was looking for the computer shop?  Well, it turns out that he was actually guarding the immigration office, and I had no idea! 

I went on Tuesday to apply for a 30-day visa extension (the maximum allowed on a tourist visa), and today I went to pick it up.  I got there and when I got to the counter after waiting half hour for them to open found that I actually didn't have to go back to the office, that they had just approved my extention through the 25th in my original visit - they didn't write it in English, OR in my passport, but it's done - yay for me n' Bangladesh! I'm not sure why it isn't a full month, but whatever, what you see is what you get here so I'm over it, lol...

More soon as I figure out what on earth I'm doing - but don't get to thinking I'm coming home early, because that ain't gonna happen (sorry Mom!).  

Signin' off for now,
S.

Thursday to Friday in Dhaka

Future Cricket Star

So Thursday was a pretty lazy day here in Dhaka.  I walked with Emily down to the Gulshan circle to find the egg and naan guys for breakfast, which was delish.  We rickshawed back to Kassandras, I uploaded my photos (it took 7 hours for them to upload because I can't resize them!) and then went out for the day while Emily left for Kathmandu.

Mahbub (R) negotiating

I had made arrangements to meet up with a new friend from CouchSurfing, Mahbub, who had helped me find someone to fix my netbook.  I caught a CNG over to the Dhanmondi area (which I've passed by but never stopped in).


Of course the driver had no REAL idea where he was going once he got me to the right road, so I hopped out and walked, asking random strangers along the street how to get to Rifles Square.  I got there precisely at 1 (I really try not to be late, even with no watch!) and Mahbub was already there.

Kids playing at the lake

He was delightful, friendly and kind, and we went to eat at Dhaba.  I'd heard it was Bangla food but it turned out to be Indian.  It was delicious nonetheless.  We chatted over lunch and then walked around outside.  

There was a lake nearby that we went to see, and we passed by some people preparing for a celebration in honour of the man who was the first president of Bangladesh once it was freed (from Pakistan, I think?).  

It was also children's day, so there were families out all over the place hanging out together, it was nice.

At a couple of points we passed these women carrying small wooden boxes out in front of them, and they kept shoving them at Mahbub as we were walking, persistently following us and nattering at him quite aggressively.  


I thought they were trying to get him to buy a box, (surprising in itself because the boxes were of plain wood and quite dirty) but it turns out that instead they were trying to force him to give them money (blackmail him) not to open the box and drop snakes on me!!  Little did they know that I'm not scared of snakes but he's terrified, lol, they were threatening the wrong person!

Yes, it's a house!

NOT knowing what they were up to I actually lightly shoved both women to the side away from him and I inserted myself between them and Mahbub as we walked on, waving them off and away.  While I didn't at the time, I now understand the shocked looks on their faces when I stopped walking put my hands out to them and pointed saying "No, now GO!" in my teacher voice.  They didn't follow us any longer.

Threatening people - with snakes? Seriously people - you can't think of a single better way to make a living!?!

We came across more of these women in a park by the lake and I just waved them off again while Mahbub just avoided any contact with them - I'm happy today that I like snakes!!  :)

Parliamentary Complex

So we walked around a pretty lake area, and Mahbub showed me this crazy house built beside the lake by some strange (i.e. eccentric) billionaire.

Rickshaws galore!

After the lake we walked by the Dhaka Parliamentary Complex which was an interesting building.  There were many families milling around outside in the sunshine.  You can't go into the complex any longer, but people still visit outside.

Holy Rosary Catholic Church

From there we walked to Farmgate (another area) and Mahbub remembered a really cool old church that was nearby, so we walked there.  One area was crowded with rickshaws, it looked cool (I sure wish I had my computer so I could edit my pictures!!).  

Shrine to Mary

We got to the Church, the Holy Rosary Catholic Church, and it was pretty cool.  It was painted up a little Disney-style, but I still loved it.  The original building was build in 1644 by Portugese missionaries, and the new addition in 1993, it is Dhaka's largest church, and it is very nice.  

Outside it you can see a shrine to Mary and Mother Theresa's Compassion House which she set up in her last visit to Dhaka.  The graveyard is small and well kept, and there were many nuns wandering around the grounds and the street. 

After that Mahbub helped me find a CNG and I made my way home after another amazing day in Bangladesh.  He really made my day and I had such a good time.  We've made plans to meet up again once I'm back in Dhaka, maybe to visit the city's botanical garden!

Mother Theresa's Compassion House

So for today this is me signing off.  I'm headed north aways on the train from Cantonment station to visit Rajshahi and the small town with Hindu temples nearby.  If I find internet I'll check in, otherwise I'll be back on Monday to Dhaka for 2 days before heading out again to Cox's Bazar and destinations beyond.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend, and much happy adventure, until next time!

Video Slices of Life

I have uploaded a bunch of videos on Flickr now that you can watch by following that link... writing is on the way but I'm off for lunch, and maybe to the zoo!!

Just Your Average Wednesday

Today was a busy day full of much walking and new sights.  Kassandra recommended a nearby craft/art shop nearby called Jatra.  On the first and second floors there was also Aranya, a shop that makes clothing using the natural dyes from Bangladesh.  The stores (particularly Jatra) were full of some amazingly beauiful stuff - I took some pictures, but they will have to wait to be uploaded.  At Jatra I bought a new handbag and some cards that I plan to frame and hang on the wall.  The artists in this shop are the ones that did Kassandra's wall, and their stairways were painted with the design, as well as much of their handicraft (including my cards!).  Their shopping bags are made from recycled newspaper and I absolutely loved them, such a clever idea!

After the shop I had planned in my head to finally drag my butt down to the old part of the city, in Bangla it's Puran Dhaka.  I walked about 30 mins after the shop because it was nice out, and I caught a CNG to Puran Dhaka.  I meant to start my day at the Banga Bazar, but of course there were a few more places I wanted to see as well.  I do not have the art of "one destination in mind" down pat yet, so the universe keeps intervening with its own suggestions!

When I caught the CNG the driver didn't know where the market was, so I asked him to take me to tha national stadium and I could walk from there.  When I first arrived I used to try and show them the map in my book, but now I know that the majority of drivers don't read English or Bangla - this also explains why they don't always know where they are either unless they have been there before and know it by sight.  Re-educating myself again!

So as we passed the stadium (which is where I thought he was taking me!) I said ok ok, it's alright (my only Bangla, acha acha, tee-ga-say) the driver said "Bangla Bazar, okay!" and kept going.  Hmmmm, thought my suspicious mind; either he just spontaneously remembered where it was, or he has though of a new market that he would be willing to BET was Banga Bazar... and on we drove.

I've (mostly) stopped arguing with the Universe, unless it freaks me out, so I sat back and we continued forward.  I found myself shortly thereafter lined on both sides of the lane and both sides of the street by market stalls - a good old fashioned bazaar!  It was SO busy, and there were many stalls selling everything from brooms to tshirts and tighty-whities to grapes.  I rode on and on in ridiculously heavy traffic until we passed a hotel I'd thought to stay in if I went down to Old Dhaka - hey, this is waaay past Banga Bazar!  Oh well, lol, I knew he didn't know where he was going anyway - maybe this will get me closer to the port and I can start the day from there!

So, we dodged horse-drawn carriages loaded with passengers, policemen, cars and other rickshaws and CNGs until he pulled into a quiter darker street also lined with shops.  Think Diagon Alley from Harry Potter if you remember that, but sunlit without creepy people behind the doors, lol.  "Bangla Bazar!" the driver proudly proclaimed with a big smile, sweeping his arm outward.  I shook my head and smiled as I sorted through the money to pay the man and climbed out of the CNG with NO idea where I was.

I stood off to the side to avoid being run over and looked up the street to the right and down to the left.  The air was heavy with the smell of spare engine parts.  You know that greasy smell you get when you have your oil changed or you go to Napa for parts?  Looking around pretty much all of the tiny shops in the narrow street were selling nuts, bolts, and greasy spare parts for god-knows-what.  Shopkeepers were appropriately curious about the stranger foreign girl on their street, and only one young man on a bicycle crashed into a cart on the side of the path when he stopped watching where he was going (my score on this front now is 7 - 7 people have brought themselves to a sudden standstill while gawking at me in all my strangeness, lol - this is surprisingly not good for the ego: WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING PEOPLE!!!)

Well, I just came from up the street, might as well start down!  Many "good morning"s later I reached the end of the street and came upon a big building with mosque-like features.  I need to learn more about these buildings because I really don't understand what I"m looking at most of the times.  I asked a passerby what it was and he told me it was the community centre, and he suggested I take many pictures (I took a few).  He offered to take one of me but I didn't trust right off the bat that he wouldn't run off with my camera so I said "no thank you" and maneuvered around the building.

My new friend followed at a slight distance behind me, checking out the view in my camera screen.  "My friend, my friend," was his answer to curious passersby that said something (something) to him.  Sahid Khan (pronounced SaYed) toured me around the neighbourhood for the next couple of hours.  Of course he introduced me as his friend to all of his brothers and uncles (Muslim men have a lot of these, I'm assuming same aged men are brothers, and older are uncles? and maybe it's not just a Muslim thing, but it's my best guess!).  He walked me through narrow streets and pointed at things (and often of people) he thought I should take pictures of.  We stopped at the small electric shop where he worked with his friends so I could take a picture of the shop and him with his friends.  There was much many "ohhhh, friend, huh??" conversation at each new stop, to which I rolled my eyes and waved my hand at them.

Sahid asked me if I wanted to go down to Sanderghat (the port area) and of course I said yes, it was just a 10-minute amble from where we stood at the time.  On the way he tried to lead me into a few small narrow streets because he wanted to introduce me to other friends in their homes, I had to keep explaining to him that I couldn't just go into a strange man's house - it's not proper for a married woman to enter another man's house, right?  It took much conversation, but he finally relented and seemed to give in.

The streets all along the way were narrow and often hidden in shadow with many electrical wires drooping down from overhead.  Piles of garbage lined the sides in many places, and it is coming to the point now where I hardly see either the garbage or the wires,  and that's okay with me - they just are, they're a normal part of the scenery here.  I refuse to toss my own trash to the ground and I still shake my finger at kids and adults that I am talking to when they do it, but I know I'm not going to change their thinking so it's only a half-hearted scolding.  It's no wonder immigrants and visitors to Canada and the US think we have such clean countries, and they are amazed that the streets and countryside are (mostly) free from litter!

Women, children, women carrying babies, kids playing alone and in groups, and many many rickshaws fill these tiny streets.  Men fill the shops (mostly as vendors, very few as customers).  Many of the doors I'm passing are residential entrances rather than shops, and looking up there are many faces poking over the wall and out the windows as we get nearer the port.

Then in front of me is a man pushing a big cart of lumber, and we are in an area of small sawmills and stacks and piles of lumber either cut or waiting to be put to the saw.  Here and there people asked me to take their picture and I happily obliged as they grouped themselves together and grinned (or suddenly became very serious).

We reached the end of the lane and finally I could see the water so I walked down the steps to a small little docking area with a bunch of small boats.  Men yelled out and waved and made the international sign for "take a picture!" and I took a few more shots as I looked around the busy, dirty, crowded port.

Walking along again sawmills gave way to vegetable vendors, and endless baskets and piles of pumpkins, squashes, eggplants, onions, ginger, garlic and tomatoes lined both sides of the path.  At times we had to pick our footing carefully or walk in the vegetables as many men and women walked by with baskets piled high atop their heads.

Sahid started serenading me about this time and I took a video of it and laughed as we walked along.  Shortly after that he said , "Why you don't love me?" (he didn't care at all about the married angle apparently), and we had the conversation AGAIN about "if YOU had a wife and SHE went to another MAN's house...." and it ended in "Yes, I see, I see, it's bad, right, okay okay we're just friends.  Girlfriend???"  He managed to looked hurt at my mock outrage at having to keep explaining myself that I was NOT going to be his girlfriend and wasn't going to marry him, but it didn't keep him from asking now and again, kind of in that "How about now!?" fashion of children.  Seriously, you can NOT propose to someone half hour after meeting them - WHY do I have to keep teaching men this lesson in my travels????!!

But, I digress.  When he wasn't asking me to marry him and convert to Islam In šāʾ Allāh (and here I can tell you that whether or not god/Allah is willing, I am Not!) he was friendly company.  After much walking he begged me to stop for a rest (he was tired from the hard work of walking, lol), and we walked to his shop for tea and cookies.  A crowd formed in intervals after a few minutes (intervals because the shopkeepers kept shooing them onward, but new ones kept returning), and I drank my tea and ate chocolate biscuits that tasted a lot like Girl Guide cookies.  


Once I'd had enough of being razzed by his friends we went on again, and this time I followed him into a book market.  Now, it took a discussion with my inside voice on whether or not I wanted to follow him up the stairs (owing to the narrow passageway and the lack of light) but this girl goes by her gut and all was well, so up we went.  Inside the warehouse-like building small wholesale booksellers were all scrunched in together side-by-side, with book wallahs running around with stacks piled high back down to the main street where they would sell them all.  Sahid introduced me to his friends there (they were pleased and punch and very shy, and of course they asked me to take their pictures) and they shoved me onto a stool behind the front counter and we chatted awhile.  Then Sahid said "5 minutes, bathroom break, I'll be back in 5 minutes!"  I looked around the shop, a little dim, crowded with stacks of books and the friendly faces of his friends and said "5 minutes - and NOT Bangla 5 minutes, really 5 minutes!"


The shop manager sent one of the kids around the shop to pull every English book they had off the shelf so I could entertain myself while they worked, they were quite shy with their English.  They asked if I wanted tea but I was fine without it so I politely declined.  I had about 5 books in front of me (and truly, I have no idea who paid to have them published because they were quite terrible, lol).  The best one was a cookbook of Bangladeshi foods written in both Bangla and English - I took a photo of his recipe for gingered beef because it looked delicious! 


15 minutes passed and I'd flipped through all the books and got bored of waiting - there was much more to do outside before the sun went down and I had to rush home (no need to be out on the streets when the carriage turns back into a pumpkin and all that when the sun goes down!).  After much discussion of cricket (Canada was playing Australia, we lost - boo!) and many compliments on what a lovely country Canada was and what a nice lady I was I told them I couldn't wait for Sahid any longer and asked them how to get back to the main street.  Of course they pointed to the stairwell directly across that was (if it's even possible!!) even darker than the one we came up.  I laughed and said "of course it's that way... thanks for the visit, enjoy your day!" and I padded down the dark stairwell lit by the flashlight I carry in my bag - handy, that thing!


Back out on the street I decided to just walk until I found something interesting, or until my feet fell off, whichever came first.  Honestly just the people and streets are interesting for me so I didn't even mind that I didn't really know where I was in relation to the "sites to see" in the guidebook.  So,  I walked.  I walked, and walked, and walked.  I found many mosques, many crowded streets, one graveyard (two, but one I couldn't get in), and one burial room with a boy chanting.  I watched some of the cricket game through a Sony store window (a first small then larger crowd reflected behind me in the glass as people stopped to watch me watch) until a commercial break, and then I walked on.

In one particularly crowded alley a car came careening around a corner (dangerous really, with all the people in the streets!) and nearly hit a rickshaw.  To get out of the way of the car (the was coming down the street the wrong way) of course the rickshaw wallah swerved - right into me!  I jumped sideways when he hit me (pretty much flat against the wall because I was already on the side of the street), and he skidded to a halt when his passenger told him he'd hit me (he didn't notice).  A couple of grandmas on the street were shaking their fists at the wallah and yelling, and I just kept saying tee-ga-say, tee-ga-say, tee-ga-say, it's okay!

So, now I can say I have been hit by a rickshaw - I was fine, he just bumped my hip and leg with the back wheel and fender.  I wear leggings under my skirts here so I was well-enough protected and all I got out of it was a bruise, there was nothing else he could have done.  All good.  It was the driver of the car that was at fault, but of course he was long gone causing trouble elsewhere by that point.

I wandered many darker narrow streets (they made me think that it was likely what it felt like to be an animal that lives in tunnels underground, an endless maze of streets running in every direction at odd angles) lined with busy people selling every manner of thing from light bulbs to rice to live baby chicks and scrap metal.  I need to get a bit braver with my camera, as there were some good shots in there I neglected to take because I was running a bit low on patience (feeling hot, sweaty, bruised and crowded after about 4 hours of pretty steady walking).

Finally in all my walking I ended up at the place I'd meant to start at - Bango Bazar, much to my surprise!!  Stalls and stuff and food and people E V E R Y W H E R E!!  I was quite proud of myself that I'd managed to wander my way there, but by that time of day (the sun was getting pretty low by this time, maybe half hour from sunset) I was no longer in the mood for shopping, so I took some photos and decided it was time to find a CNG.

Ha, apparently around this place there WERE no CNGs, so I walked up the street I recognized from the ride in back toward where I'd started.  In my travels I found the cricket stadium (which I detoured off path and walked around) and a big mosque.  I stopped to buy a 7-up (hot and hungry, getting cranky - sugar is the answer!) and eat a piece of cake I had in my bag.  When I complimented the woman at the counter on her many (many!) bracelets and paid for my drink, she took a few of them off and handed them to me, "It's my gift to you."

Only in Banglaesh, I swear.

I thanked the very nice woman and went back out the street with my 7-Up, in search of a ride home once more.  I did find a couple of them, but neither was willing to make the long trip back to Gulshan-2 (and I have no idea why), so I walked on some more.  By now the sun was actually going down and the sky was turning that lovely shade of pink.  I really didn't want to be stuck out in an unfamiliar area after dark, so I was determined that the next CNG driver I found was taking me back home.  And, thanks Universe, it was no problem after that, 30 seconds later I had my ride home into the sunset.

We did manage to get stopped by the police on the ride home.  They pulled us over (I have no idea why, god knows he COULDN'T have been speeding!) and an officer asked me where we were coming from and where we were headed.  The driver pushed the CNG over to the curb and walked back to the policemen.  I sat for a few minutes (maybe 3?) before opening the door to ask the officers if there was a problem.  "Oh, no madam, everything is okay, no problem" the officer said.  He shoved some papers at the driver and shooed him back into the CNG and we were on our way again.  I still have no idea what that was about.

Once we got started again the driver got a bit lost after we hit the main circle at Gulshan-2 (he was planning to take me to the northern-most part of the neighbourhood and I didn't want to go there!), and since I couldn't explain exactly what I meant in a way he could get what I meant I decided to walk the last half hour from there.  The area is heavy with security and police, and of all things I was not at all worried about my security so I walked, and I arrived home safe and sound.

Fabulous day, photos to follow!

Quotables

I'm posting a few quotes here because a new friend in Dhaka has turned me on to travel writer Pico Iyer.  He's quite amazing (his writing anyway!) from the few brief articles I've read, and I can't wait to read more.  


Note: You can read the full articles if you click the links, they were certainly worth the 15 minutes of my time this morning over coffee, but I leave that up to you in your own wisdom, connections, and interest.  These are the parts I loved most so far:

• On Why we travel... this speaks so eloquently to the real reasons I lose myself so easily and wholeheartedly in travel... this article of all of them is my favourite so far...

"We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again -- to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more." 

• On Noise and Silence, as it is something I seek in this private journey of mine, and it is a contrast felt fully between the streets of Dhaka and the quiet of the villages...

"There is, of course, a place for noise, as there is for daily lives. There is a place for roaring, for the shouting exultation of a baseball game, for hymns and spoken prayers, for orchestras and cries of pleasure. Silence, like all the best things, is best appreciated in its absence: if noise is the signature tune of the world, silence is the music of the other world, the closest thing we know to the harmony of the spheres. But the greatest charm of noise is when it ceases. In silence, suddenly, it seems as if all the windows of the world are thrown open and everything is as clear as on a morning after rain. Silence, ideally, hums. It charges the air." 

• On the experience of Living abroad as a foreigner...

"Japan is therefore an ideal place because I will never be a true citizen here, and will always be an outsider, however long I live here and however well I speak the language. And the society around me is as comfortable with that as I am — all it wants is clear roles and someone who will stay in his place, as it were, live out his part (in my case as foreigner) perfectly, walking on the right side of the street, and not making trouble. Which to me is a fair exchange for the kindness and courtesy and efficiency it is ready to offer in return.

I am not rooted in a place, I think, so much as in certain values and affiliations and friendships that I carry everywhere I go; my home is both invisible and portable. But I would gladly stay in this physical location for the rest of my life, and there is nothing that I want in life that it doesn’t have. 

To me rootedness is mostly just a matter of deciding what you need, preferably as limited as possible, and finding a situation that answers that — I call that man rich, as Henry James has it, who can satisfy the requirements of his imagination."

• On Happiness and our true nature...

"...happiness is within the reach of almost anyone. We can work on it as we work on our backhands, our soufflés or our muscles in the gym. True happiness, in that sense, doesn’t mean trying to acquire things, so much as letting go of things (our illusions and attachments). It’s only the clouds of short-sightedness or ignorance, the teachers from the Dalai Lama’s tradition suggest, that prevent us from seeing that our essential nature, whether we’re Buddhist or not, is blue sky."

http://www.flickr.com/photos/photosbyshauna/3930165297/ 

If nothing else I hope you found a spark of connection somewhere in his writings as I did, or the feeling of a moment in time well spent.  

I wish you a wonderful day (or night!) filled with beauty and love...  I'm off with my camera to (finally!) explore Old Dhaka for the day!

Computer and So on

This morning I had a bunch of email from folks through CouchSurfing in Bangladesh about where to go to get my computer all patched up.. So, early on I caught a CNG over to a part of town I'd never been to (a kind man on the street translated for me with the driver, who had no idea where to go).

When we arrived (twice as long as I thought it would be, of course) he dropped me off and I looked around.  Hmm... I don't see any big electronics megaplexy kind of thing... awww man...

I walked over to the nearest policeman (I seemed to be in an area of the local police and military and coast guard offices) and showed him the name of the place (it's an English name, BCS Computer City), and he nodded and by charades (damn I'm getting lots of practice with that game!) told me how to get there.

So, I walk along as he's directed me.

The fathead.

As I turn the corner I am curious about where one might hide a 10-story office building along an area of road that looks much like a slum shantytown, but I figured Oh well, I'm sure he wouldn't send me the wrong way, and kept walking.  Ha.

Goats and cows began to line the streets again (never something you find around new/modern stores in my experience), and slowly there were fewer people wearing shoes, fewer people in business attire, and fewer places to step without walking in something icky (downside of flip-flops!).

Alright, so fathead has obviously sent me the wrong way, but I don't want to attract double the attention by walking by the same groups of people who are poking their heads out to watch me, so I decide to walk around the block and back to where I started - it's nice out, I'm in no rush!

I get around the block and find a group of policemen, this time in different uniforms, this time finding one that speaks English.  He says, "Oh, no problem! It's that building right there!", pointing across the field (in the OPPOSITE direction from where fathead told me to go) at a tall concrete building I would have thought was apartments.

I thanked him, and turned a cocked eyebrow to fathead who standing not far from me, watching us chat.  I pointed at the tower, then at my piece of paper and then gave him a look and shook my finger at him, tsk! tsk!!  He shrugged and giggled.  His partner slapped him in the back of the head (thank you!).

What, did he think the slums were gonna freak me out? Seriously?!


Dude, get a clue...

So I walked up and over a block and found my way to Gateway-Tech in the BCS Computer City.  I had to have my bag scanned upon entering the tower, there was airport-like security (not exactly sure WHAT that was about, really) and then I easily found my way to the shop thanks to my CS friend.  His pal was there, spoke English (woooooohooo!) and laughed at me with a raised eyebrow when he saw that I'd already taken it apart and removed the screen.

Whaaaaat??  I needed to find the part number!!!

He took me to a nearby parts booth and they said they could get the part.  He'll order it in for me, and it will be ready by Thursday morning for Tk9,500, about $130CAD.

Rock on, says this happy cat.  Back in business soon!

Disaster Strikes! (Relax, it's just my computer)

So I just knocked my net-book onto the very hard concrete floor.

What did you do that for you ask?

Well, I am graceful and as such and I tripped over the cord - down it went!

Now, the screen looks like some kind of whacked out jigsaw puzzle and I have to see if I can get it fixed somewhere in Dhaka.  The rest of it works fine, I just have to replace the screen - GAAAAAH!!!!

Awesome.

Day 2 in Srimongol

What a great day!

[Note: You will have to hunt for most of the photos from this day on Flickr because I just don't have the time to wait for the stinkin' internet to upload them all, sorry!  Once I'm all caught up I'll go back to normal]

Philah came by to get me this morning around 10am. While I was waiting for him a few kids came by to play accompanied by the standard attachment of adults. They started with begging for change and ended with Tootsie pops (bad for the teeth but good for the smiles!).

When Philah arrived he took me by motorbike to his project, a small compound about 10 minutes outside of town. We had to drive through a bit of construction to get there because they just discovered a natural gas reserve nearby. Philah mentioned that Chevron (the company responsible for the plant going in) has been good for the local people. Many of the people of nearby villages (the tea hill tribes) work in the green tea plantations for 48 Taka per day - that’s just over 50 cents; with Chevron they are making 150-200 Taka per day… can you even believe the difference???

So, we visited Philah's project, and it was fantastic.  I want to provide you with more information about it but I can't find the weblink - when I do, I'll share it!

We looked around the yard and after we sat for a bit I got to go into the next room and meet all the kids - what a great time I had!! Rows and rows of little ones set up on the floor with their book bags and books out in front of them. When we went through the door they all stood up and said Nomoshkar (hello) very politely. Phila told them I was from Canada, and asked the kids with Canadian sponsors to stand up - each of the kids knew the name of their sponsor (though the little ones forgot!), I was very impressed.

After introductions 2 little girls came up and shared their worship song (and dance) with everyone (I’ll upload some video of it if it worked out!) followed by a little boy that got up the guts to do it on his own and he sang a completely different song. Phila had asked them to do a song since I was there, and then (turnabout being fair play and all) they told him they wanted me to do something for them!


After some nervous puzzling (these kids don’t study English as a subject) I decided I’d sing them Itsy Bitsy Spider and show them the actions that went with it. First I explained the story to the kids (Phila translated), and then I sang it for them, it was very fun. I wrote out the words on the chalkboard and Phila and I sang it together for them a few times so he could learn it before he had the kids copy it into their notebooks. The adults around me were humming Itsy Bitsy Spider the rest of the morning, I loved it!!

**

From there we left the kids to their work and drove out to the bird sanctuary whose name I’m going to have to look up. On the way out we passed through a few villages Phila was unfamiliar with. We decided that they must use fishing as their main means of support as everyone was carrying baskets and such for fishing at the end of the morning. They seemed to have more Muslim families, but otherwise I couldn’t really tell if anything was different.

When we arrived at the sanctuary area there was a man sleeping under a tree, he followed us up to the lookout tower. There was a sign on the tower saying how much each thing was (an hour in a boat, entry to an observation tower), but when we got to the top of the stairs the observation was LOCKED! I had thought that the sleeping man would have been the one with the key, but nope! He just happened to be sleeping under the tree and came over to see what we were doing, have a chat and such.

Oh well, such is life - not like there are enough visitors to warrant a full-time person looking after the tower area, but you would think it would make sense to hire a local village person to keep an eye out for when people stopped by? The project gets money from USAID, but I don’t exactly know where the money goes, so who’s to say really. So we spent some time just relaxing there. We looked around the sanctuary and sat on the grass looking out over the water and listening to the birds, it was really lovely.


After that we rode over to the other side of the lake on the bike because Philah had heard we could go there to see some big fish in the ponds. Philah, always humming and laughing with an easy smile is like a big kid and he is marvelous company.  He enjoys nature and told me that he likes to watch the fish play in the water. I had to agree when we came upon a spot where there was a schwak of big fish that it was very nice watching them flip and flop around in the shallow water as they chased bugs and swam about. It was perfect, and while I think he  kept expecting me to get bored I really enjoyed myself, it was very peaceful. It showered on us a tiny bit but nothing to give us concern yet.

As we drove along plenty of people raised their hand in a wave or shouted hello (the kids shouted Da-Da!). Philah was very friendly and I assumed that perhaps he knew some of the people, but he said that he didn’t. He laughed and commented “if I were just riding alone nobody would raise their hand to greet me, but since they see a foreigner they want to be friendly.“ This is the case as I’ve seen it in most of Bangladesh.


After the sanctuary we returned back to the project and Philah mentioned that the area we went to (the sanctuary) is kind of considered off-limits most of the time as it’s a group of extremist Muslims (I saw a number of signs written in Arabic and wondered where they came from!). I’m not sure exactly what they do that is overly extremist, but I trust him at his word.

=====

Something I love about Bangladesh is that for the most part Muslim, Christian, and Hindu people seem to get along side by side perfectly well without any major malfunctions, but I suppose it is easy to say that I only have the briefest of ideas because I’m here for such a short time. However, in my short times, I see that even in the tribal villages families have different religious beliefs between the three, and also a fourth, because some of them have indigenous religions that they still follow (though Philah tells me that those numbers are really dwindling).

On the ride back to the Project we drove up to the top of a hill where there was a great view of the valley below. Philah mentioned that the entire area (much like the tea gardens) was much greener and more lush and the river would be full during the rainy season that comes during June and July, which made me think about whether or not I could come back again later before heading to SE Asia this summer, but the jury is still out.

Once back at the project we walked around the nearby tea garden village. Most of the homes there were built with mud, and to me they looked like they had been poured out of concrete. The people mix up a big schlop of mud and then after 2 days of leaving it sit they can use it to build and make repairs before the rainy season comes in June.

The mud in this area is red like PEI and Arizona. You can also find white and gray mud in the area near the river, and people use the other colours to paint designs in their yard and on their houses. Goats and chickens were everywhere underfoot, and I saw the cutest tiniest baby goats I’ve ever thought possible out frolicking around in front of one of the houses - I only wish I’d had my camera handy but I‘d left it at the project!!

Nearing the edge of the village we stopped and sat to visit with one of the families that was getting their yard ready for a wedding later that evening. The women were steadying a young tree and building a base around it. This would be the centre of the marriage arbour where the couple would later dance around and have their ceremony.

I found myself wishing I could see a local marriage ceremony but it was only a thought. Philah said that most of the people in the village had probably never seen a westerner before which is what made them so curious and so shy. As we walked people had gathered to peek around their gates or over their fences at us.

We stayed and visited for about 5 minutes while random people stopped in or poked their heads around the corner at us and Phila chatted amicably with the grandfather, whose grandson was a student involved in the Compassion Project. He offered tea which we declined, it was a very nice visit.

When it was time we said goodbye and I waved at all the kids and we took the village path down to the back side of the project. We washed up and had lunch, a fried rice with curry and a boiled egg.

I’m diggin’ eating with my own hand. I swear, you should really try it once or twice. Do it when nobody else is home if it creeps you out, but there is something immensely satisfying about mixing the food on my plate with my hand and eating. I also eat slower, and eat less.  It’s hard to explain the whole thing really, you’ll just have to try it yourself!!

**

The project site is between two tea garden villages, one of them that we had to drive through on the way out. As we left we passed many people Philah knew and they either waved or said hello. As we went by what must have been the fiftieth wedding gate of the past few days Philah stopped to say hi to someone and one of the young men asked if I would like to come in and see the wedding preparations - would I?!?!!!!! So I said uh-huh-yes-please! and wandered into their yard. There were about 15 (maybe 20?) women dressed in beautiful clothes, hanging out and waiting for things to start (still many hours away). There were also kids running around in nice clothes that were likely getting dirtier with each passing hour - nobody seemed to mind.

The groom, still dressed in dusty work clothes and wandering around the yard looked to be about 18 or 19. The arbour was set up with the tree in the middle, just as we’d seen with the earlier home in the village, and it was decorated all around with brightly coloured paper, plastic flowers and streamers.

There were candles lit, and it appeared that it was just waiting for the bride and groom (and midnight) to come. I took some pictures and they offered us a chair and tea (we declined the offer (with thanks) of tea from the busy family) and just sat for a moment taking it all in. I took a few more photos and then we were on our way again. So close, so close, but I wasn’t gonna see this wedding either.

On the way out the door one of the young men in the yard bid me follow him into the house so I did, and I met the very reluctant looking young bride who was sitting dressed in a pretty yellow sari on a wooden chair in the house’s only bedroom. She twisted the scarf in her hand and chewed on the end of it, not even looking up from the floor as I entered. I asked Philah to please wish her well for me and to tell her that I hoped her marriage was a happy one and he was kind enough to do so. I figure she was probably about 15 or so. 

We drove past the Finlay tea plant on the way out of the village and one of the local men suggested going in to take a tour - of course it’s my rule (did I mention that already?) not to turn down an offer of experience from someone trustworthy, so of course I said let’s go!

We walked up and were ushered into the manager’s office, a man with a hennaed moustache and hair that spoke quite a lot of English. He has a friend in Toronto so he was familiar with Canada and was curious about my life asking many questions (I felt like I was being interviewed!).

When his questions ended I asked him if I could visit the inside of the factory, and he told me that since it was the end of the winter season the plant was closed, there was no production until June. He did however gift me with 2 ginormous bags of green tea from the plant - one of the only places that makes green tea in Bangladesh - all of its product is exported to Pakistan!


So, he got busy and we showed ourselves out and into the clerk’s office. We said hello to him as well after we were offered chairs and chatted briefly (he was very busy, though I have no idea what they were doing with the plant closed!). A man came and handed me the two very large bags of green tea and stowing them away we said goodbye and thank you and went back to the bike. Next stop? Tea shop!


We drove through miles and miles of tea garden, it was so beautiful - I think I could spend the entire day driving through without getting bored. In all the places I’ve been in my life I have never been to another place that knows green the way Bangladesh knows green. Nature’s palette was surely exhausted when it came to colouring this beautiful country.

Philah suggested tea (I’m always game for a cup!) and he headed us toward town. He was struck with the idea to visit some Kassi people who were in town (I think he wanted to check in on the Bangladesh match too!), and soon enough he pulled the bike up into the yard of a rental property in town. It was sort of a duplex really, with a bunch of young people living in it. 13 of them actually, in the small 2-bedroom home.

They were all Kassi kids who had come into town to attend school and get a better education than they could in the village and Philah was greeted like a favourite uncle. The oldest of the boys boy was from LawaChora, Philah’s village, so he gets to go home more often. Some of the others are from Kassi villages that are farther away so they only see their families a couple times a year - even the ones that are away for elementary school. In our short visit it seemed to me like they were pretty normal happy kids that were well adjusted to their situation.


I have an immense amount of respect for those kids, especially the oldest girl (Chablis) who seems to have running the house in well in hand - 13 kids in one home, the 2 oldest in 11th grade going down to early elementary school age, and they were managing just fine on their own. Sleeping arrangements were on the floor. There was a modest kitchen area and a bathroom. They had a TV running through an old computer monitor and a regular desktop for schoolwork (but no internet). Boys in Kassi tribe don’t seem to wear any special clothing, but girls usually wear a tshirt with a long skirt and a sash worn across the shoulder; when they go to school the girls wear ‘mainstream’ clothing, but when they’re just around the house they all wear their own normal clothing.

We stayed about an hour visiting and I chatted briefly with the two oldest who were brave enough to try out their English, I mostly just giggled with the littler ones who were running to and fro all around the yard. We had tea and watched some cricket while they all chatted, and I felt like I just stopped in on his family, which is really I guess what we did! As we were leaving Chablis said “please come again, sister,” and I could tell that she meant it. Philah told her that come rainy season I might be back to stay with them awhile and she made an excited squeak and told me I would be very welcome. Such a doll.

As we climbed onto the bike Chablis ran out after us to the gate to wave, and a few of the other shyer girls I hadn’t really seen peeped out a goodbye and a wave as we drove away. I don’t think I’ve met any people friendlier than the Garo and Kassi people of Bangladesh.

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We drove onward in search of tea. I think Philah was headed for the same spot we’d gone to the other day, and as we rounded the corner we came upon Poresh and his wife. Well, we found his wife, he was off hiring a motorcycle. She was wearing a beautiful sari and looked very pretty. She told us they were on their way to a wedding. And what happened next? The universe conspired in my favour and she invited Phila and I along - yayyyyy!!!!!!!!!

We waited for Poresh to come back with an old putter of a bike, and we were off! I thought the wedding was nearby but it was quite far, it seemed about an hour by motorcycle. We rode past a gate that said something about “No tourism activities permitted” (I didn’t quite read the whole thing) and as we were just out of reach the guard started to wave at us but we were already long gone. As I was about to ask Philah he mentioned that sometimes the guards at the gate stopped foreigners from going through and that he had avoided eye contact in case they were going to stop us. Since the guard only noticed at the last second that I was a foreigner he was too slow, so on we drove.


We passed through about 5 different tea estates, 3 villages, and one patch of pretty sketchy feeling road that was too thickly tree-lined for its own good. It sprinkled a little but nothing too bad and we pulled up to a house after winding through the third village and stopped the bikes. Going in Poresh’s wife (I wish I remembered her name, she was so sweet to me!) grabbed me by the hand and dragged me behind her telling me that it was her brother’s house.

It was a huge 6-bedroom house built of mud. He worked for one of the tea estates as permanent labour driving the tractor; this meant he got a better and more reliable wage and could afford a bigger home. It was the biggest one I’ve seen actually. We waited there while everyone finished getting ready, and then we started walking to the wedding.

I was sorely underdressed in my capris and black tshirt but they swore it didn’t matter and that nobody would care. The girls (5 of them) almost made a little circle around me as we walked once it got darker. The 2 men (Phila and Poresh) came behind with the bikes. The girls ushered me away from some spots along the path, and out of sight (sort of) depending on who we were passing.

I actually got the feeling that they were worried about me being in the village at night, and that they were trying to shield me from sight at some points. This is not the easiest task if (a) you don’t tell me I should be being extra inconspicuous, and (b) if I’m 5 inches taller and 5-10 shades lighter than everyone around me!! So I was pretty downright conspicuous, but I did my best to avert my gaze when they seemed tense - however, I was still on the lookout for trouble and wondering what they were so worried about. They didn’t bring it up though, so I didn’t ask, I was fine and with a big group of friends.

We arrived at the first wedding and Poresh’s wife took me firmly by the hand and dragged me through the gate. We were ushered past the wedding arbour (where the ceremony was already in progress) and into the main room of the house where the groom’s elderly mother was hanging out. I’m not sure why she was in there and not at the festivities, but there she was. They pulled in a bunch of chairs for us and we sat and chatted - they chatted, I sat and watched what was going on out the door!

When I greeted the grandma (seeing as how I was a wedding crasher) I crouched down on my heels in front of her on the floor and just had my say in English - what else was I going to do, right?! She took my hands and shook them lightly and smiled and said that she felt very honoured that I came to the wedding and that she felt horrible to have such a special guest and not to have prepared anything extra on my behalf. I urged the others to please tell her not to give it another thought (I was uninvited, and touched by her welcome), but she was quite upset about it even as we left.

I went out the arbour after she had settled again so I could see some of the ceremony. Apparently it was going to take a couple of hours, and really I just wanted to see a few minutes. I wasn’t going to interrupt everything with my camera, but the family insisted so I flashed away some terrible night shots. As I was moving around to take photos random people were shoving others aside to make more room for me; at one point they actually brought out a lawn chair for me to sit on while everyone else was sitting around on the grass or standing behind me.

I knew they were doing it out of respect but I admit that I felt terribly uncomfortable and in the way. I took a few more pictures (one or two women kept popping up and gesturing about what kind of shots I should take, so I did as they asked - of course none of them really turned out because it was dark and I didn't have a tripod, and...) and then thanked them again for the kindness and tried to melt back into the house.

They brought us all glasses of water and some cookies - in Bangladesh when anyone comes by you always offer water or tea and some kind of snack; even in their busy time with a wedding ceremony going on they took time to bring something out for us. I’m not sure why the people I was with weren’t staying long, but after half hour they were ready to go, and the girls dragged me out by the hand after I said goodbye and thank you to grandma. As we walked out the marriage gate it seemed that we walked right into ANOTHER wedding!!

We walked in, my hand being squeezed tightly by Poresh’s wife and we were ushered into a tent. We all sat around a big table and had some desserts that I’d never tried before; interesting, very interesting. We kinda ate and ran after making the rounds to the groom and the unhappy painted bride. I didn’t want to take her photo because she looked so miserable, but the sisters insisted so I took one shot in the dark room and we were on our way again.

We walked out to the main road again and the girls seemed less worried so I was less worried. The guys came along with the bikes and did an on-the-spot oil transfer (Poresh’s bike was out of oil) before we started on our way home. Each of the girls in turn came and took my hands in theirs, looked into my eyes for a few seconds with a smile and said “ok, goodbye for now.” It’s another time I’ve not been happy to be saying goodbye and I barely knew the girls.


We started off on the bikes and the drive was slow in the dark. Again with the bicycles and rickshaws and people walking in the night without any lights. About 20 minutes into the ride it started to rain. About 25 minutes into the ride it started to pour, stinging drops on the skin until I was sure that Philah couldn’t see where he was going. Poresh and his wife were ahead of us and they finally pulled over so we could wait out the rain. They found a hayloft with a few more of the usual suspects avoiding the drench and we all climbed in.

I was quite grateful for the hay. Since the average temperature right now in Bangladesh is around 28C I was wearing only a tshirt and capris, and I was quite cold. That would have been nothing compared to how cold everyone else was though, they were positively frozen in comparison!  Me?  Once we were in the loft for a bit you would have found me snuggled in, laying down with my head on my bag in the pile of hay, snug as a bug in a rug for the hour that we waited out the storm.  Now I know why you always find cats curled up on cold nights in the hayloft!!

They started talking about the patch of road I thought was creepy on the way there.  Apparently they were all scared going through the same patch on the way home because it was dark, and that stretch of road is known for badness.  Philah said “I was quite worried in there for a while, especially because I am driving with a foreigner on the bike with me, and you never know what could happen.”  I’ll leave the details out to spare you the internal drama, but suffice it to say that we were safe and warmer and faaaaaaar from that patch of road by the time we stopped. I couldn’t decide if I was happy or not that they hadn’t mentioned anything ahead of time, but it was done with by that time and then it didn’t matter so I just put it out of my mind.


After that hour it still hadn’t stopped, but we were about 15 minutes away if we just got going, so off we went. It was damn cold and nobody was at the ‘no tourist’ gate that was willing to come out and shake a finger at us. By the time we pulled in to their yard I actually had a hard time climbing off the bike because I’d had my arms wrapped tightly around myself keeping in the warmth and my legs wrapped tight around the bike - it’s not so easy to peel yourself off afterward!!

At their place Poresh’s wife gave me a dry shirt to throw on and Poresh ironed my shirt dry. I laughed my butt off because it was a tiny stretch t-shirt with sparkly lettering that said "Careful... I had a bowl of cranky this morning!!" 

It was a very clever idea to iron the rain out of my shirt (thank you Philah!), and I was all kinds of grateful. We stayed long enough to get warm again, Poresh set Philah up with some dry clothes, and he drove my back to my guesthouse on his motorcycle in light rain before setting off for his half hour home. At least by then it had nearly stopped raining. I’m sure his wife had been worried about him since the cell phone service there wasn’t awesome, and I was happy to find out later that had gotten home safe - even though it was probably to an angry wife! : )It was nearly 11pm when Philah dropped me off and I got back to my room. Had I been at home I’d have had a hot bath or shower to warm myself up, but here there is no hot water. There ARE warm blankets though, so I put on my track pants and a long sleeved shirt and climbed under the covers. It wasn’t long before I was warm and falling off to sleep.

What a brilliant day.