Head Out on the "Highway" (to Dhaka via Mymensingh)

For a good 20 minutes of the way to Myensingh my heart ached and my eyes leaked and I was so sad to be leaving Birisiri behind. I almost forgot to notice that I was on the back of a bike, and it was wonderful, the whole wind in my hair (and bugs in my teeth, ick), I loved it. 

After I stopped the tears (which I blamed internally on the wind in my eyes) and made myself think about the exciting stuff ahead. We zipped down the highway, me and my nameless driver (I asked, but never got an answer!), small villages and countryside streaking by. At a couple of points we stopped so he could introduce me to friends, and otherwise we wound our way along the road and through small dusty villages one at a time. 

I was wearing capris, so I was riding the bike facing forward (oddity here because women here ride sidesaddle because they're in skirts and dresses), hanging onto the back (rather than onto my driver - people are not touchy with strangers here).  I had my scarf pulled up over my head and my sunglasses on (my hair was flying everywhere and the bugs were getting in my eyes), so I was almost travelling incognito, save for the glaringly white skin of my arms and legs.  We passed 2 downed bridges, and I wondered if it was a strange coincidence of timing or if someone had tampered with them - no way for me to know, I was just happy I wasn't on them when they collapsed!

Next, after riding about half hour, we reached this very small town (think deserted dusty spaghetti-western main street) where there were few people on the road (usually both sides are lined with people walking and shopping and standing around, plus loads of vendors and such).  Instead, peering over my driver's shoulder from behind my sunglasses I saw 2 lines of policemen staggered on both sides of the street, about 5 or 6 of them.

As we were approaching, the first in the line of them stood in the middle of the lanes and gestured for us to stop. Traffic stop, I figure, I'm not too worried about it - I don't even know if there ARE traffic laws in this country, but surely it's no big deal.  Much to my alarm, my driver actually accellerated, and swiftly swerved around him as the next 3 officers ahead stepped into the lane as well gesturing and waving their hands for us to stop - I had no idea what was going on as they jumped out of the way to avoid being hit by our bike!

As we approached the final officer in the line he had his baton raised and he was just bringing down his arm to strike at us as we passed when I made a spilt-second decision and yanked my scarf off my head and took off my sunglasses so he could tell for sure that and let him see that I was a foreigner. The only thoughts in my head were (a) I hope he cares that I'm a foreigner, and (b) it is going to HURT if I go down on this bike, I better be ready to bail before that happens.

Now, my only wish is that I still had my camera out so you could see how fast that baton flew behind his back and he stepped out of our way when his shocked eyes met mine. Most of the police here are apprehensive of foreigners because the country is VERY concerned about how it is perceived in the global media - the police are NOT allowed to misbehave with foreigners around (as I've heard it told since this minor little event).

We continued on down the road with my driver peering occasionally into his rearview mirror as I wondered what on earth had just happened.  We pulled over every now and again to warn other riders that the police were in the town ahead, often meeting his friends along the way to make sure they avoided the same sort of trouble.

He pulled the bike off the road in a village a couple of stops up to stop and get some gas.  Many towns this way don't get service from fuel trucks, since the numbers of drivers in cities have grown and there isn't enough gas to go around.  You see little stands like this one here and there where fuel is being sold in recycled water and sprite bottles, and many of the bike drivers fill up with hit.  

Still fresh off our police adventure and not really able to communicate we met someone who spoke English, and I asked him what happened after the driver had filled him in. He had no idea, but suggested the police were looking for money. I was happy for our luck that they did indeed avoid dealing with me, and I was anxious to get back on the road so we could just get to Mymensingh.

As we continued on we passed a couple of police checkpoints further along the road, but happily they showed no interest in us other than a brief glance in our direction as we went along... it was a very strange stretch of moments in time, I can say that much!

I took a bit of video and some photos to distract myself, and before I knew it the 90 minutes had passed (my BUTT knew it, it was numb!!) and we had arrived on the bustling streets of Mymensing.

My driver stopped along the way to buy sunglasses (he didn’t have any) and asked me for 100Tk which I gave him with no concern (cringing thinking that Animesh would be mad at me, lol). We pulled into the bus station and he budded ahead of the line and the manager came out of his office to usher me inside rather than to the counter. He sold me the last seat on the bus to Dhaka and it wasn’t even 5 minutes before I was on the bus ahead of the crowd in the seat at the very back corner.

My motorcycle driver took me on the bus and set me in my seat. He chatted a moment with a man walking down the aisle and said to me “this man is good, he’s a friend, you don’t worry.” Okay, I don’t worry. The nice young man sat down beside me, on his way to Dhaka for business, and I waved goodbye with thanks to my driver who (I can only assume?) went on his way back to Birisiri.


The bus ride was uneventful and loud, as the driver honked at EVERYTHING that moved along the road. When we finally pulled into the Mohakali station I was glad to be back just so that I could get off the freakin’ bus with the honking and the swerving and the dirt flying in through the open windows and sticking in my eyes and my teeth.

Now, to find a hotel... I had thought to stay with Kassandra, but since I didn't have her number handy and I hadn't called in advance and I'd just be leaving again pretty much before the sun came up I figured a hotel would be less bother, so went off to find a CNG (those little green machines), the hotel shouldn't be far!

Farewell (for now) to Birisiri

 WELL, it’s time to leave Birisiri.  I’m not ready to leave, and I don’t want to leave, but Anthony has made arrangements with his friend to meet me tomorrow in Srimongol (which I've already put off once), plus the Japanese group of 13 or something is coming so Animesh will be busy, and I don’t even know if there’ll be room around here still (I am afterall taking up an ENTIRE dormitory since Animesh doesn't want to put anyone with me!), so it’s time to go.

I was up early to fold my bed down and such and I read in the early morning sun again for awhile. I wandered down for breakfast and had planned to leave by 10. Since it was only 8 I was in no rush and I had an unhurried breakfast and tea. I walked around the Y grounds and took a few flower pictures. I had breakfast and tea and visited with Animesh until it was time to settle my bill.

He wouldn’t let me pay for my meals, he only billed me for accommodation, no matter that I argued with him until he was mad at me and I stopped.  "Guests don’t need to pay, and you are my guest", is what he said to me. Tears threatened to spill down my face as I paid and I was grateful to have made such a good friend.

Time to say goodbye, we wished one another well and talked about the fact that it may be the last time we saw one another, but I hope that it will not be. We both had tear-filled eyes as I lightly hugged him goodbye (a handshake just wouldn’t good enough for me at that point), and he asked Luis to walk with me to catch the bus.

I couldn’t help the tears as we walked down the village path to the main square, and my heart desperately wanted to stay in this place that suddenly felt like a second home after so little time. Thankfully Luis didn’t check on me as we were walking, and I had dried my eyes before we reached the end of the path. As we walked I looked around and hoped that I would find a time and a reason to come back again to Birisiri, the place is truly one of my heart.

We reached the main bazaar area to find tons of buses, but for some reason that I didn’t understand none of them were selling tickets. Mr Happy, the excitable and eager ticket wallah from my ride TO Birisiri was in the square and came running up to me spouting rapidfire Bangala, gesturing a takeoff with his hand and then making and X by crossing his arms while shaking his head with that famously dramatic frowny scowl: No Go.

I didn’t know what the heck was going on, but I was looking for any excuse to stay so while I was puzzled I happily followed Luis to a nearby snack stand to wait while he sent someone on motorcycle to fetch Animesh to rescue me again. When he came to meet me I discovered that “the bridge accidentally broke” so there WAS no bus out of Birisiri today. Ha! No bus means I don’t have to go!! 

No no no, Animesh wouldn’t let me stay. “You have plans to visit in Srimongol, and you will meet the friend there, you must go.”  Man I hate when people behave like grownups when my heart wants to be a child. He hired me a motorcycle to drive me to Mymensingh (pronounced MyMenShing), the nearest big town.  About 5 times he told me “You will NOT pay this man any money, I will pay him - you will only buy your ticket in Mymensingh.”

When I opened my mouth to argue the first time he put his hand up and shushed me and by the 4th time I was crying again though I tried to prevent my eyes from springing a leak I couldn’t help it and I had to look elsewhere as I sorted myself out.  My big brother to the last moment of our visit, he made sure that I got safely on my way. 

The men strapped my small pack on the bike’s rack and I carried the bigger one on my back as we set off and I waved a sad goodbye from the back of the bike and we wound speedily through town and out to the main road.



Birisiri to Srimongol (the short version)

I am safe and sound having gone from Birisiri to Dhaka and now to Srimongol, Bangladesh.  I have written and written emails and blogs but I cannot upload from my netbook so for now it's just a progress note!  In the morning (or maybe later tonight) I'll try transferring everything to my zip drive (well, the writing at least) and see if I can send it. 

Short version... Bangladesh (especially once you LEAVE Dhaka city!) is incredible.  While the first couple of days on my own had me a liiiiiiittle freaked out I am now mostly settled in nicely and have adjusted to the country.

I spent (remember, this is the short version) 3 days in Birisiri, and I have to say, that place absolutely stole my heart.  I arrived around 930pm after my 7 hour bus ride turned into a 10 1/2 one (apparently I did not catch the express bus, lol, it was INSANE).  I found my way to the YWCA by rikshaw (my first real rikshaw ride at night down dark delapidated village roads, yay!) and made an incredible friend in Animesh who is running the guesthouse.  He is a member of the Garo tribe.  While I visited he absolutely treated me like his little sister.  He showed me around the Garo village, brought me to people's homes, took me for tea and snacks at the local shop, and toured and introduced me around for a couple of days.  I had originally planned 2 days there but couldn't leave, I loved it there so much.  I am still thinking of going back again before it's time to leave Bangladesh.

When it did come time to leave Luis from the guesthouse walked me to the main street to help me figure out the buses.  When he asked around what we eventually got (Animesh showed up again to help me) "I'm sorry, the bridge is accidentally down" - I couldn't catch a bus out because one (or 2, I later saw) of the bridges on the way to the villages collapsed!  Animesh hired me a motorbike that took me to Mymensingh (yay for motorcycles!) and I found the bus there (got the last seat too because they were so nice to me!) to Dhaka.  Birisiri so touched my heart, especially my new big brother, and I cried on leaving and halfway down the highway to Mymensingh (which I blamed on the wind in my eyes). 

When I got to Dhaka I checked into a hotel there for the night, and first thing this morning took a rikshaw (let me just say that it is IMPOSSIBLE to find either of those things in Dhaka before 7am, I walked for 20 minutes!!) and then CNG to the train station to catch the train to Srimongol.  In Birisiri Animesh's uncle Anthony (another amazing guy, he's the social worker over at the Compassion Project (I might have the name wrong, I'll check later)) phoned his friend Phila in Srimongol (the next stop on my agenda) and asked him to show me around when I arrived in town (which was today!).

Phila (pronounced Fee-La) is the Chief of the nearby Kassi tribe and the director of the local Compassion Project, they neglected to mention those things to me, lol... He met me at the train station once I found my way to a phone, and he has been absolutely fabulous, without a doubt.  He found me a guesthouse strightaway (run by a friend of his), and spent his whole day showing me around (more on that later).  I met his daughter and his wife and took the tour of his village, it was fantastic.  Tomorrow morning he's going to pick me up at 10 (or "sometime before 11", Bangladesh-time) and take me over to his project, I can't wait!!

For now I'm going to go back to my room and get cleaned up (I'm covered in a fairly thick layer of grime from riding around on a motorcycle all day!), walk up the street and get some dinner (I'm quite over-the-top with peckishness), and then come back here to see if I can get gmail to open (so far no luck, which is how I ended up here!).  I'll also come back armed with a possible update on the other things if I can use my zip drive, but NO promises at this point!!

(OOoooh, there is some TERRIBLE yowling (maybe singing?) going on on a mic outside, it is baaaaaaad!)

Talk to you soon, don't worry about me I'm excellent: happy, peaceful and content (if thinking a liiiiitle bit about how I might be able to live in Bangladesh for a bit, knowing full well that this is the danger of me travelling to new countries, lol), and if you think I'm thinking about you, you're right.

My 2nd Day in Birisiri

{I'll add the photos later if/when I have time online,
but I really want to post this before I
forget about putting it up entirely - for now I'm afraid all I can say is,
read the caption and use your imagination folks!}

Today was a very nice and relaxed day. I woke around 630 and had an icy splash in the shower. Water, warm water, is the luxury at home I most take for granted on a daily basis. I packed my bags and got the blankets and stuff remade before I continued writing from the day before. I went out and sat in the morning sunlight on the small deck to read my book (still loving my e-reader!) for about an hour before Animesh came to meet me.


[PHOTO - FRENCH TOAST!]

Breakfast was (of course!) lovely, fried bread my like French toast with orange jelly (omg so good) and a fried egg. After breakfast we were both chatty spending most of the morning at the table talking. I had been planning to go but was happier sitting and chatting. “My heart does not wish to say goodbye though my head knows we must. I receive you as my guest, as my friend, as my sister, as my family.” I felt much the same way and didn’t want to leave so I avoided the ticking clock on the wall and instead suggested we make some tea (I love love tea!).

[PHOTOS - KITCHEN AREA]


I followed him into the kitchen and we boiled water for tea on the clay stove after lighting a fire. He peeled and cut up some cukes while we waited for the water to boil, and I had some green papaya (which when boiled is deliciously wonderful) - the texture was much like a carrot the colour of a cantaloupe, very strange but good! I wasn’t ready to go, and I was in no real hurry to go anywhere so by 2pm I had made up my mind to stay one more day and I felt much happier. Besides, I didn’t want to do the 10 hour bus ride in the dark and arrive in Dhaka at midnight!

[PHOTO - ME n’ ANIMESH]

Come 3pm he actually had to go do some work to prepare for a group of 13 people coming from Japan to volunteer with HfH over three weeks. He joked that it was good that I was leaving because the peace of his village was about to be disturbed by the playful and loud Japanese guests. I went back upstairs and remade myself a bed and charged all of my electronics. Around 430 we met again as I had asked him to walk me over to the field where there was a group of very old trees I’d seen from the gate of the school, but first we took a picture beneath the olive tree in the yard of the Y.

[PHOTOS - OLD TREES AT THE RIVER]

We walked down by the river to a new spot I’d never seen before where the trees were probably about 150 years old, they were so beautiful. After checking out the trees and taking a few pictures he asked if I wanted to see a market as we walked along the river, and of course I did!


[PHOTOS - RIVER, KINGFISHER, GIRLS]


The river area was fun for me to see as we walked along the high bank. There were people bathing and others playing in the water, and a group of young girls that waded across from the other bank to follow us. I saw the most beautiful sapphire blue kingfisher that I’ve ever seen and stalked it for some pictures awhile, also taking some pictures of the girls as they climbed up to say hello.
[PHOTOS - OLD MAN WALKING; SUNSET; BOYS PLAYING CRICKET]

As we walked the sun set over the village. My heart was so calm, so happy, so at peace. We walked along behind an old man and I took a few pictures because it was just so beautiful there. “You are so curious, like a child seeing the world sometimes,” Animesh said to me. I took it as a compliment, and hope I always see the world as if through the wonder filled eyes of a child’s heart. We came upon a group of boys playing cricket in the field, and small huts were visible through the jungle.

[PHOTOS - COMPASSION PROJECT]

When we got to town we went to visit Anthony’s Compassion project. About 300 village kids attend everyday after school to learn social skills, health, academics, and religion. They eat one meal together per day as well. It was pretty cool, and made me wonder whether they could use my help if I volunteered there awhile, though I had no idea how I’d help since the kids don’t need to learn English. The project area had a large field where the kids could play, a couple of swings and a slide. When we were there kids were attending personal coaching of some kind, I’m not sure in what. Animesh mentioned that he thought about starting an English coaching program for the local kids, and of course I told him it was a great idea and that I’d give him any help I could from home over the phone or internet.


[PHOTOS - MARKET]

The market, when we came upon it, was small and packed with people, FULL of fresh vegetables. The sun had nearly finished its descent by this time so my photos aren’t great so instead I walked around trying to commit the place to memory. We stopped at the same little shop we’d been the day before for snacks and tea. We had something like a deep-fried wonton and a soft squishy donut-like thing dripping in a very sweet syrup. I was so happy to be trying another new treat! In the teashop there were men and women sitting together and having tea, though no tables of mixed company other than us.

[PHOTOS - SNACKSHOP AND TEA]

After tea we wandered by the village library (which also sold toiletries and the like), the local photo shop (where they proudly told me of the computer programs like Photoshop and Illustrator that they used to edit photos), the cloth market, and the fish market. We stopped by a little snack stand where they sell pop and juice and cookies and chips and the like and Animesh bought a bag full of snacks. I tried again (in vain) to pay, but he wouldn’t stand for it. He insisted later in the evening that I take the snacks with me when I leave the following morning, “food for your journey.” It almost made me cry in that moment, the immensity of his kindness.

[PHOTOS - DINNER IN THE DARK]


We walked back to the Y in the dark and Anthony passed us on his motorbike saying that he was coming for a visit, he is very sweet. He arranged for me to meet his friend Phila in Srimongol when I arrived, and said that he would show me around. Anthony said that he’s a really kind man, a good man, and he is the manager of the local Compassion Project, which is how they met. It’s easy to feel like family around here, and I was very grateful for the help and the kindness and friendship they shared with me.


I stayed up with them until around 11 visiting, eating dinner, and having snacks, and it was a really nice night. Anthony had to leave to go home to his wife after visiting for about an hour, and I was sad to see him go, he’s a really nice man. At bedtime I washed my face and feet and crawled under the blankets in the room that already felt like home on my third night, thinking about the next day’s bus trip and having a quiet cry with the thought of saying goodbye in the morning after such a short time.

What a Freakin' Day! (Part 6 of 6) The Dark Arrival and the YWCA

Oh my god.

Seriously.

What
Have
I
Done

It’s dark, I’ve arrived on a wing and MANY prayers (I’m sure of it), and now I’m in a square in the middle of nowhere with NO freakin’ idea where the YWCA is (that’s where I had decided to stay) or how to get there.

"Well, you're right about that, you're here, so figure it out pumpkin!" says a voice in the back of my head.  Since when does my inside voice call me 'pumpkin' I wonder...

Deeeeep breath, shoulders back and head up and all that… you’ve gotta figure it out girl - you’re perfectly fine, stop worrying about it and just go! I felt better as I walked through the crowd of people, where the crowd of evening loiterers had doubled since our arrival.

Looking around the bit I can see in the dark I'm in the dusty main square market area of Birisiri.  There are lots of little shops (boarded up since it's after 9pm) and the only thing I see open is a little snack shop.  There are a pile of rikshaws here and there in the crowd of people, and I am standing in the middle of the buspile (think doggypile of buses). 

Okay... I need to get to the Y, I guess I'll need to pick a rikshaw.

I walked up to the first driver that met my eye and smiled saying only “YWCA?”


“Y-shmanblypamblyblahblah ok ok”

“Umm… YWCA?"

“Yahyah, Y-shmanblypamblyblahblah okay!”


Allllllrightythen, "No no, that’s okay”

Next!

2 rikshaws later and the giggles from my onlookers making me feel quite lighthearted about the whole confused situation (not a single person in the crowd makes me feel threatened or worried) and then a man is at my elbow translating for me.  "Would you like to go to the YWCA?  I will find you a good driver." Next thing I know we've walked around the buspile to the actual road and he's talking to a driver and telling me that I can take his ride to the Y, I’ll be there within 5 minutes (it's very close) and I should pay him only 20 Taka. Done, I think - I’ll pay him 200 if he’ll just get me there!!!

I climbed on board with the sea parting around us and hope that he’s taking me to the Y and not to some darker dark road of badness.  Things looked good though so I wasn't worried

Parental Advisory Label:
Nnote to all moms and parent-like folks who are reading: I swear if I had any of the tiniest inkling of trouble I would have climbed down and had someone WALK me there if I couldn't find a ride, I was perfectly safe!

We bumped and jiggled (well, at least *I* bumped and jiggled) our way over what seems like cobble stones and his very crap light does nothing to light the way for him in the pitch of night so I take my flashlight out (yay for planning ahead and buying a flashlight!!) and shine it down to light his way (thank you for whatever power helped me remember that I had a flashlight!).

He jumped down to push at some points because we were going through sand and over broken bricks, and it took everything in me not to jump off and help him when I know it got tough to push and he was working hard.

Not even 5 minutes had passed before we were at the gate of the YWCA, the lights were on and I could see someone in the office… *MAN* was I never so happy in all my life to see that sign. I paid the man his money (I paid him 50 instead of 20 because that was the smallest bill I had and it is a physical IMPOSSIBILITY to get change out of some people without making a scene, so I didn't even bother once he was resistent about handing me back my change... 30 Taka to me is not even 50 cents, he can keep it, I'm safe and sound!).

What a Freakin' Day! (Part 5) The Bus to Birisiri



Mr Excitable is in the red looking serious

 About 25 minutes after that I had eaten 2 cucumbers and a carrot (they are sold from big metal bowls fresh from somebody's garden - the wallah peels them and washes them off with bottled water), gotten myself a warm pepsi (did I mention that I take refrigeration for granted at home?), and walked around the station a bit waiting for my bus to be ready to go.

A young man in business wear came up early on in my wait and said he’d like to “discuss” me (turns out that meant he wanted to chat). He followed me onto the bus when my happy young ticket selling friend found me my seat, and he sat chatting with me about his upcoming job interview and various other things about Bangladesh.

He told me he wanted a “friend” and tried to convince me to give him my phone number in Canada.

I politely refused about 27 times and then finally told him "it would greatly upset my husband if I was just giving out my phone number to men all over Bangladesh while I was travelling without him.  How would you feel if you were married and your wife came home bringing men's phone numbers?"

"Oh, you are right miss, not good, not good." After the 26th time (and several further clever attempts of “I can be BOTH friends, you AND your husband, it‘s okay!!) I think he got the point (laughing and smiling all the while), and the 27th came as he was on his way out the door in one final attempt that still got him no luck. “But you will forget me when you go to Canada. I should have your phone number, please?” Sorry dude, I don’t even have a phone number...

And because EVERYONE in Bangladesh has a cell phone, he thought I was lying - but how to explain this gypsy life to people I have no idea!

So, the bus gets going, we’re all in our seats (about 20 of us when the bus probably sits about 45) and the driver and his 3 wallahs start jockeying for position to get OUT of the freakin’ station. Buses are nose to nose, some bumper to tire, all of them trying to get out first ahead of the other like they all suddenly decided to leave at exactly the same time. MAN I hope I took some video of it, because it was CRAZY!

About 10 minutes, much bus slapping, yelling, and fist-shaking later the bus pulled away from the terminal and crossed into the insane traffic I’d hopped to get there in the first place.

We approached the curb, and the 3 boys who had been staring and giggling at me once we started to move leaped out of their seats, opened windows and one of them stood in the door yelling out “Birisiri! Birisiri! Birisiri!” and trying to attract more customers onto the bus. We did this the ENTIRE way north, the yelling, the honking, the insanity, it was a LONG ride!

About 4 hours into it I considered all of the stopping and starting and figured we were going to be about 2 hours behind schedule, and that it was likely I was going to be arriving in the dark.

Awesome.

Every once in a bit Smiley checked in on me, and when we were on the highway between yelling positions he checked to see if I was hungry or needed anything through charades - patting his tummy and making a sad face then pointing back and forth between me and his tummy... man he made me laugh, he was very cute.

We pulled off the highway twice for rest stops, and each time (since the interior lights were on, and I was in the front seat) a crowd gathered at the front and door to gawk. I didn’t get off the bus because I didn’t want to get lost, so I just stayed there getting stared at and hid behind my sunglasses in the evening light. It got dark sooner than later and then we were careening down the highway at full tilt in the dark - at this point I decided it was in my best interest NOT to watch the action through the front window to avoid giving myself more gray hair. Instead I read my guidebook some more.

When we finally hit Mymensingh I figured we were about an hour away - not bad, we’d be there around 730 or so, I could handle that! Hah, no way Jose, we still had 3 hours to go, little did I know!

About 6 hours into the drive (after the 2nd rest stop) the driver pulled the bus over to the side of the road, stood up and waved his hands in a cutting motion and went and sat in one of the chairs. We were not in a rest area, we were just partially pulled off the road and he was NOT budging from the chair, rubbing his hip (I thought: ouch, that looks like sciatica badness).


This picture is not mine,
but this is what many buses here look like!



Okay, the driver is done with driving now, so we're just sitting in the dark on the side of the road.

Awesome. (this is a very useful word!)

After much heated debate, one of the young ticket boys climbed into the driver’s chair and started the bus going again. He had a hard time with the stick to the point that I was pretty sure he’d never driven a bus before, and I found myself praying in the dark for a safe arrival and avoidance of all cliffs that were surely to continue on the roads ahead.

I was wondering at this point about the part in the guidebook that mentioned “a good part of the drive across bumpy unpaved backroards” and thought that the roads must have been cleaned up since they wrote 2 years ago because we were almost there and we hadn’t hit much in the way of unpaved roads (unless you count the narrow dirt and sometimes sand shoulders the bus was forced onto each time a huge truck came in the other direction taking up half our lane, but I‘m choosing to forget about all those times!).

Me and my big mouth (inside voice or not, the universe is ALWAYS listening!).

The universe delivered again, and before I knew it the double-laned paved roads gave way to a single-lane sometimes-dirt sometimes-paved with huge holes kind of pathway, and the new young driver decided to slow on down to about 40km/hr, white knuckled but still toughing it out.

Was he just nervous about driving in the dark?  Could he even see anything with the substandard headlights and the heaps of oncoming rikshaws and bicycles and HUGE trucks?  Do Bangladesh roads have pirates?  I don’t know about HIM, but *I* was becoming a silent wreck from my seat directly behind him.

I pulled my scarf back up over my head and leaned back in my seat trying to look anywhere but out into the dark in front of me.

About half an hour into the crawl a man stood up halfway down the aisle and started a huge yelling screaming match. Smiley became quite angry, as did the other men at the front of the bus, and I pulled my scarf up over my hair again (I was just starting to relax!) and sank a bit deeper into my chair staying out of the way as the bus once again came to a halt on the side of the road.

I’m *guessing* from the tone and gesticulations involved (I watched the scene from the driver’s big bubble rear-view mirror) that he was angry we were going so slow. I myself wanted him to shut the hell up unless he was gonna drive because the boy was doing the best he could, but this fight went on screaming and spitting red-faced for 10 minutes before finally the calmer men (some grandpas in Muslim dress) put seat to the more wired men and we continued on our crawl with everyone a little tense, but alive.

Jeepers guys, stress me out a little MORE why don't you??