You were in a country with no government?
read about it here:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/5400784.stm
It is a bit crazy. Some are worried about a civil war....
side note: don't worry about me. In Mymensingh it has been pretty quiet. The only thing that has happened is that Darren and I couldn't go to Piergatcha for the Harvest Festival b/c no busses are running... instead we went around visiting our different friends places, drinking cha and gossipping about the political situation. not a terrible way to spend a hartel (strike) day. Tomorrow is the official hartel day....it will be interesting to see what happens. there is sort of an air of anticipation around. at least for me.... some are worried, some not.
Also, on the news today people were rioting in Dhaka...throwing ROCKS...beating things with STICKS....a bit crazy and irrational. I am not sure that doing the above things will bring about change. What will bring about change? That is the question. and Who is asking it is another question.
Read about it on BBC and let me know what you think....
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
Tigers, Shooting Stars and the Bay of Bengal
It's Monday and I am back in Dhaka, feeling refreshed after a good night of sleep. I realized that I spent so much time staying up late on the boat, losing track of how many shooting stars I had seen that I was a bit sleep deprived. One night we slept on the bow of the boat, fell asleep to the stars and woke up to the sunrise, near the Bay of Bengal.
Another day, drifting down the river we stopped and went on a treck through the Mangrove forest. It was a-mazing. No people, no pollution. Only lots and lots of small sea crabs scattering with each step in the mud. The mud was thick, clayish and very very wet. I ended up going barefoot, as even my Chacos were not up for the battle of staying on my feet. We saw lots of animal prints, but none made me as excited as the TIGER paw prints. Fresh. There was a tiger watching us. And as much as I did really want to see a tiger, I did not want to meet it there. We had armed guards with us, and even they were getting a bit nervous, starting to make loud coughing noises and telling us to stay together. We smelled where the tiger had marked it's territory. The treck ended near a place where the British used to "harvest" salt. There were thousands of clay pots and pot pieces that were once used to collect the salt from the sea and would be sent other places to be sold.
Most days were spent lazily waking up, drinking cha, chatting with new friends, and relaxing as the boat went down the river towards the sea. I even had the luxury of starting and finishing "The Kite Runner." One morning we all woke up with the sun, and took a small boat down a channel, to see wildlife. I didn't see any wildlife, but it was a nice boat ride.
One of my favorite times was spent having a Hymn Sing. The funny part is that we only had one hymnal for 12 people, so the words came out jumbled at times. People lost interest, after a little while because of the lack of hymnals perhaps, or perhaps because the crew on board was looking at us a bit funny. So about 4 of us remained. We decided that we MUST learn a new hymn. "Love Came Down at Christmas" was selected somehow. We spent a loooong time, determined to learn all the parts, get the rhythm right (we even clapped it out) and sang until our voices were raspy. We now know the song perrrrfectly though. Nerdy? yes. Fun? yes.
One day we took a hike with the promise of it ending up with a swim at the Bay of Bengal. It was a hot late morning and as I looked around I realized that Tigers could be watching us. It's not everyday in NA that you take a hike and think about that. Once I heard the wooshing of the waves and saw the beach grass I got really excited. Then the view opened up and there in front of us was the Bay of Bengal. A wide, remote beach. No one else was around. Fan-tastic.
We swam and floated and played a shaky game of Marco Polo, becase I wanted to. We rode the waves, although they were pretty weak. Mmmmmm.....
Last night was a good good ending to our great week. Just our MCC group ate at a super nice Indian restaurant--all sorts of yummy food. We accidently ordered enough Naan to feed an army.
Now we are back, I am going to find an Eid gift for my host family. (Eid is sort of like our Christmas). Taking the bus back will be interesting. It has been compared to traveling on the day before Thanksgiving in the states. I am preparing to be squished in with sweaty men all around me--that way if it is not that way I will be pleasantly surprised.
I'll post some pictures later on.
Another day, drifting down the river we stopped and went on a treck through the Mangrove forest. It was a-mazing. No people, no pollution. Only lots and lots of small sea crabs scattering with each step in the mud. The mud was thick, clayish and very very wet. I ended up going barefoot, as even my Chacos were not up for the battle of staying on my feet. We saw lots of animal prints, but none made me as excited as the TIGER paw prints. Fresh. There was a tiger watching us. And as much as I did really want to see a tiger, I did not want to meet it there. We had armed guards with us, and even they were getting a bit nervous, starting to make loud coughing noises and telling us to stay together. We smelled where the tiger had marked it's territory. The treck ended near a place where the British used to "harvest" salt. There were thousands of clay pots and pot pieces that were once used to collect the salt from the sea and would be sent other places to be sold.
Most days were spent lazily waking up, drinking cha, chatting with new friends, and relaxing as the boat went down the river towards the sea. I even had the luxury of starting and finishing "The Kite Runner." One morning we all woke up with the sun, and took a small boat down a channel, to see wildlife. I didn't see any wildlife, but it was a nice boat ride.
One of my favorite times was spent having a Hymn Sing. The funny part is that we only had one hymnal for 12 people, so the words came out jumbled at times. People lost interest, after a little while because of the lack of hymnals perhaps, or perhaps because the crew on board was looking at us a bit funny. So about 4 of us remained. We decided that we MUST learn a new hymn. "Love Came Down at Christmas" was selected somehow. We spent a loooong time, determined to learn all the parts, get the rhythm right (we even clapped it out) and sang until our voices were raspy. We now know the song perrrrfectly though. Nerdy? yes. Fun? yes.
One day we took a hike with the promise of it ending up with a swim at the Bay of Bengal. It was a hot late morning and as I looked around I realized that Tigers could be watching us. It's not everyday in NA that you take a hike and think about that. Once I heard the wooshing of the waves and saw the beach grass I got really excited. Then the view opened up and there in front of us was the Bay of Bengal. A wide, remote beach. No one else was around. Fan-tastic.
We swam and floated and played a shaky game of Marco Polo, becase I wanted to. We rode the waves, although they were pretty weak. Mmmmmm.....
Last night was a good good ending to our great week. Just our MCC group ate at a super nice Indian restaurant--all sorts of yummy food. We accidently ordered enough Naan to feed an army.
Now we are back, I am going to find an Eid gift for my host family. (Eid is sort of like our Christmas). Taking the bus back will be interesting. It has been compared to traveling on the day before Thanksgiving in the states. I am preparing to be squished in with sweaty men all around me--that way if it is not that way I will be pleasantly surprised.
I'll post some pictures later on.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Dr. Yunus wins the Nobel Peace Prize!
So, it's true, one of their very own has finally been recognized for starting the Grameen Bank three decades ago. I am by no means an expert on micro credit or the Grameen Bank, but I do know a few things:
1. People here are celebrating like its 1999. I was reading the letters to the editor today and so many people from students to old people, villagers to city dwellers were writing to say how happy, proud, thankful they were for Dr. Yunus. Much of the paper contained full page pictures of him, saying how proud (x company) was of him.
2. Now Bangladesh will not only be known for being the most corrupt country. (some study came out recently saying that)
3. This seems like a needed morale boost (and maybe? a motivation to try new ways of solving problems?)-- people here are smart and they also live in a place with many adverse conditions. There is an election coming up, which has produced many hartels (strikes) with violence, garment workers are striking...maybe Dr. Yunus can cast a vision for what is possible here in Bangladesh...or inspire change in a small way...
Saturday, October 14, 2006
A Good One
"You are so young. You have so many beginnings. I beg of you, dear
friend, as well as I can, to have patience with all that is unsolved
in your heart. Love the questions themselves like locked rooms, like
books written in a very foreign tongue. Do not ask for the answers
now, for they cannot be given to you: You could not live them. And
the point is to LIVE EVERYTHING. Live the questions now. And perhaps
one day, gradually, without even noticing it, you will live along some
distant day into the answers"
Ranier Marie Rilke
friend, as well as I can, to have patience with all that is unsolved
in your heart. Love the questions themselves like locked rooms, like
books written in a very foreign tongue. Do not ask for the answers
now, for they cannot be given to you: You could not live them. And
the point is to LIVE EVERYTHING. Live the questions now. And perhaps
one day, gradually, without even noticing it, you will live along some
distant day into the answers"
Ranier Marie Rilke
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Sometimes I forget I am in Bangladesh, other times it is excruciatingly obvious
Yesterday I was jetting around Mymemsingh on a rickshaw with friend and tutor, Liza. We were on our way to buy fabric paint and "blocks" (wooden carved stamps for fabric or paper) from Gargina Par, the "downtown market" of mymenshing, because I have decided to become a "blocker" as they say here. I am pretty excited to take up this hobby and paint my salwar kameez however I decide. I think I will also paint some wall hangings too, for when I am at the mission. Anyway,I was chatting away with Liza, as we were in a rickshaw jam and suddenly felt, more than usual the 49 pairs of eyes staring. Everyone and their mother, brother and best friends were looking at me, pointing saying "hi shista" (sister) and doing a rubber neck to get a glimpse of me. That was incident # 1 that made me realize I am white, a foreigner and still in the Banglarang.
Incident #2: We were at the paint shop and Liza had to fight off the questions with a stick. A woman engaged her in a long conversation about where I was from, what I was doing here, what my home country is, what my NAME is etc etc. And, this woman could have asked me herself b/c I understood all of it. I felt bad for Liza--she gets so much annoying attention when she's out with me. I know for sure that I got a better deal on the fabric paint b/c she was with me...the shopkeepers usually will charge more if it is just me by myself. I am learning what things should cost, so that is helping and I am definately learning how to assert myself.
Incident #3: I was taking rickshaw back to the MCC office and looked to my left. A Bengali version of FABIO was coming down the road, singing on the back of a truck. His hair was long and flowing, gold sunglasses catching the sun. He had 3 other band members, accompanying his vocals that were being broadcast via microphone and loudspeaker. (Did anyone ask him to come down the street? who wants to listen? Everyone was just mulling around like this happens everyday and is no big deal.) I chuckled to myself, then forgot about it.
Incident #4: 5 minutes after Fabio's grand entrance into my life. I was almost to the MCC office when I looked to my right and a whole, newly slaughtered cow was in a parking garage and blood was running down the pavement to the road. There were several men gathered around with large knives cutting it up very precisely. About an hour later as I walked by, the whole thing was cubed and only the head was staring back at me.
Incident #5: "Hey Canada!" was thrown my way by a little girl who was beckoning all her friends to come outside and take a look at the monkey. (er, um ME). I must have told her once I was from Canada. (I tell people I am from Canada alot b/c they are not waging a war on terror.) I kept walking....as ususal
-----------------
Reba got a thermometer. Now we know how hot it actually IS here. (this could be a highly annoying thing if we overuse it, but for now it is fun) it was 92 in her house when she got home yesterday and 88 when she went to bed. And the current was out, so no fans...sooo hot, too hot for sleeping.....
Enough talk about being the "other"---
---
Next week I get to go to the Sundarbans. So excited. Maybe I will see a Bengal tiger. The Sundarbans are the islands to the south, on the Bay of Bengal. We have 25 expats signed up and are getting a big boat to cruise around on for a couple of days. the best part? we will be out in the middle of NOWHERE...it will be quiet, there will be no horns honking, no rickshaw bells chiming; we will eat good food, and we will laugh and it will be oh so good.
Incident #2: We were at the paint shop and Liza had to fight off the questions with a stick. A woman engaged her in a long conversation about where I was from, what I was doing here, what my home country is, what my NAME is etc etc. And, this woman could have asked me herself b/c I understood all of it. I felt bad for Liza--she gets so much annoying attention when she's out with me. I know for sure that I got a better deal on the fabric paint b/c she was with me...the shopkeepers usually will charge more if it is just me by myself. I am learning what things should cost, so that is helping and I am definately learning how to assert myself.
Incident #3: I was taking rickshaw back to the MCC office and looked to my left. A Bengali version of FABIO was coming down the road, singing on the back of a truck. His hair was long and flowing, gold sunglasses catching the sun. He had 3 other band members, accompanying his vocals that were being broadcast via microphone and loudspeaker. (Did anyone ask him to come down the street? who wants to listen? Everyone was just mulling around like this happens everyday and is no big deal.) I chuckled to myself, then forgot about it.
Incident #4: 5 minutes after Fabio's grand entrance into my life. I was almost to the MCC office when I looked to my right and a whole, newly slaughtered cow was in a parking garage and blood was running down the pavement to the road. There were several men gathered around with large knives cutting it up very precisely. About an hour later as I walked by, the whole thing was cubed and only the head was staring back at me.
Incident #5: "Hey Canada!" was thrown my way by a little girl who was beckoning all her friends to come outside and take a look at the monkey. (er, um ME). I must have told her once I was from Canada. (I tell people I am from Canada alot b/c they are not waging a war on terror.) I kept walking....as ususal
-----------------
Reba got a thermometer. Now we know how hot it actually IS here. (this could be a highly annoying thing if we overuse it, but for now it is fun) it was 92 in her house when she got home yesterday and 88 when she went to bed. And the current was out, so no fans...sooo hot, too hot for sleeping.....
Enough talk about being the "other"---
---
Next week I get to go to the Sundarbans. So excited. Maybe I will see a Bengal tiger. The Sundarbans are the islands to the south, on the Bay of Bengal. We have 25 expats signed up and are getting a big boat to cruise around on for a couple of days. the best part? we will be out in the middle of NOWHERE...it will be quiet, there will be no horns honking, no rickshaw bells chiming; we will eat good food, and we will laugh and it will be oh so good.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Red Beans and Rice
Yes. I made Red beans and Rice a couple of days ago. Alaina and Ameris would be very proud, especially considering the circumstances. But I prevailed (and conquered, I might add)
First off, there are NO BEANS in Mymensingh. Now, for a vegetarian like me who has eaten beans of some sort every day for the last 2 years for protein and their excellent fiber content this is a problem in more ways than one. (I will not go into the more ways than one) But anyway,they don't really eat beans here. SO, when we were in Dhaka last weekend my heart leapt for joy when I saw a whole shelf of canned kidney beans!" hooray" I said to myself. "la la la" I silently sang as I also found canned tomoatoes! they don't really do a whole lot with tomotoes here either, except for put them in a cucumber/tomato salad....so I was geeked, (so geeked) when I found two of my favorite cooking items: beans and tomatoes..even though it meant carrying heavy cans on rickshaws, on the bus and everywhere. I didn't care that they weighed the same as a small child. I had beans and tomatoes. mmm.
Two nights ago, I was feeling the cooking vibe and decided to make red beans and rice. for a few reasons. 1. I had red beans. 2. I wanted to use rice in a different way besides with dal. and 3. I wanted to cook as I haven't cooked in like 2 months and miss it.
Side note: people here cook in the afternoon because it is light and then eat really late at night. They never cook right before they are going to eat. (the story below proves that I am still very american and spoiled with constant electricity)
Well, it was about 6pm and I was getting hungry. Reba left the house and I was going to listen to music, and cook and relax and pretend I had some red wine to go along with the mood I was feeling. It all went south quick when the power went off. I am getting used to this since it happens at least 2 times a day, but I was hoping for some light so I could cut my onions quickly and not accidently chop off my fingernail into the mix. So, I got the flashlight, cut up the onions, which made me weep they were so strong. then the flashlight died. Then I started sweating because the fans were not working because the power was not working (no fans to circulate air). The breeze I was feeling from the window had vanished as well, making the room sort of like a sauna at the YMCA. I would not be defeated. I fumbled around in the dark, found a candle and proceeded to cut up the rest of the onions by candle light. (I forgot to mention that as I was looking for a cutting board I discovered a family of cockroaches in the corner, so I decided against the cutting board and used a plate instead).
On to opening the cans of beans (that have more meaning than ever before--kidney beans shouldn't have this much meaning or significance, should they?). Hmm. Since they don't really use cans alot here there are no can openers. This happened to me once on a camp out at Camp Roger....I used a rock and a knife to cut the can open. This time I used a bottle opener, and it took so much effort to pry the lids off that I was sweating profusly by this point. (((In the midst of this moment I actually looked around, thought about where I was and what I was doing and was sort of amused and sort of ready to throw in the towel.))) But I am stubborn, so for the next 1/2 hour I pryed open those darned cans. So now, I have onions that are turning brown and that the ants have decided to investigate and 2 pryed open cans that are BARELY openend enoughto squeeze out the content. I am finally ready to cook this shin dig up.
( on and by the way, ants are a low priority problem, they are everywhere and only sometimes bite)
I take the candle into the kitchen, light the gas burner, put the onions, oil and tomatoes into the pan....mmmmm....add the beans, mmmmm....add too much rice....have to pry open another can of beans to make up for the extra rice.....so now the onions are shrinking. I need to cut up more onions. I turn off the burner. cut up more onions. light the stove again. I add what I thought was chilli powder. It turns out to be paprika. so now I have red beans and rice with a paprika flava. "that's alright with me, paprika is good in its own way." I tried to console myself in the hot dark kitchen. Who was I kidding. this was going to be the worst best red beans and rice ever. Worst because I thought the flavor would never be right and best because I was determined to enjoy it even if it tasted terrible. I added basil. (why not?)
Now the rice was crunchy, so I added more and more water "as needed." I was losing confidence-did I even know how to cook? who am I ? what am I doing in Banglarang anyways?
at that low moment the power went back on." boo ya." I said to myself in the hot kitchen. Now I could actually see what was in the pot. You will never guess. It looked like red beans and rice. and also it tasted like red beans and rice. it just was a monsterous amount that we are still eating, but it was actually gooooooooood. I cleaned up my huge mess that I had made in the dark, and pretended that I had it all under control the entire time. success.
the end.
Cicely, storyteller extrodinaire.
First off, there are NO BEANS in Mymensingh. Now, for a vegetarian like me who has eaten beans of some sort every day for the last 2 years for protein and their excellent fiber content this is a problem in more ways than one. (I will not go into the more ways than one) But anyway,they don't really eat beans here. SO, when we were in Dhaka last weekend my heart leapt for joy when I saw a whole shelf of canned kidney beans!" hooray" I said to myself. "la la la" I silently sang as I also found canned tomoatoes! they don't really do a whole lot with tomotoes here either, except for put them in a cucumber/tomato salad....so I was geeked, (so geeked) when I found two of my favorite cooking items: beans and tomatoes..even though it meant carrying heavy cans on rickshaws, on the bus and everywhere. I didn't care that they weighed the same as a small child. I had beans and tomatoes. mmm.
Two nights ago, I was feeling the cooking vibe and decided to make red beans and rice. for a few reasons. 1. I had red beans. 2. I wanted to use rice in a different way besides with dal. and 3. I wanted to cook as I haven't cooked in like 2 months and miss it.
Side note: people here cook in the afternoon because it is light and then eat really late at night. They never cook right before they are going to eat. (the story below proves that I am still very american and spoiled with constant electricity)
Well, it was about 6pm and I was getting hungry. Reba left the house and I was going to listen to music, and cook and relax and pretend I had some red wine to go along with the mood I was feeling. It all went south quick when the power went off. I am getting used to this since it happens at least 2 times a day, but I was hoping for some light so I could cut my onions quickly and not accidently chop off my fingernail into the mix. So, I got the flashlight, cut up the onions, which made me weep they were so strong. then the flashlight died. Then I started sweating because the fans were not working because the power was not working (no fans to circulate air). The breeze I was feeling from the window had vanished as well, making the room sort of like a sauna at the YMCA. I would not be defeated. I fumbled around in the dark, found a candle and proceeded to cut up the rest of the onions by candle light. (I forgot to mention that as I was looking for a cutting board I discovered a family of cockroaches in the corner, so I decided against the cutting board and used a plate instead).
On to opening the cans of beans (that have more meaning than ever before--kidney beans shouldn't have this much meaning or significance, should they?). Hmm. Since they don't really use cans alot here there are no can openers. This happened to me once on a camp out at Camp Roger....I used a rock and a knife to cut the can open. This time I used a bottle opener, and it took so much effort to pry the lids off that I was sweating profusly by this point. (((In the midst of this moment I actually looked around, thought about where I was and what I was doing and was sort of amused and sort of ready to throw in the towel.))) But I am stubborn, so for the next 1/2 hour I pryed open those darned cans. So now, I have onions that are turning brown and that the ants have decided to investigate and 2 pryed open cans that are BARELY openend enoughto squeeze out the content. I am finally ready to cook this shin dig up.
( on and by the way, ants are a low priority problem, they are everywhere and only sometimes bite)
I take the candle into the kitchen, light the gas burner, put the onions, oil and tomatoes into the pan....mmmmm....add the beans, mmmmm....add too much rice....have to pry open another can of beans to make up for the extra rice.....so now the onions are shrinking. I need to cut up more onions. I turn off the burner. cut up more onions. light the stove again. I add what I thought was chilli powder. It turns out to be paprika. so now I have red beans and rice with a paprika flava. "that's alright with me, paprika is good in its own way." I tried to console myself in the hot dark kitchen. Who was I kidding. this was going to be the worst best red beans and rice ever. Worst because I thought the flavor would never be right and best because I was determined to enjoy it even if it tasted terrible. I added basil. (why not?)
Now the rice was crunchy, so I added more and more water "as needed." I was losing confidence-did I even know how to cook? who am I ? what am I doing in Banglarang anyways?
at that low moment the power went back on." boo ya." I said to myself in the hot kitchen. Now I could actually see what was in the pot. You will never guess. It looked like red beans and rice. and also it tasted like red beans and rice. it just was a monsterous amount that we are still eating, but it was actually gooooooooood. I cleaned up my huge mess that I had made in the dark, and pretended that I had it all under control the entire time. success.
the end.
Cicely, storyteller extrodinaire.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
more pictures
the balcony of my dreams. on clear nights we watch the sunset and if the power is out it is a good place to catch a breeze and is a much cooler alternative to roasting inside. lately we have been eating Iftar out there. oh, and you can see stars. but i haven't even found the big dipper yet.
Iftar: good food eaten at sunset during ramadan.
Above: me and some new friends at the jail I accidently found on a walk one day. It looked so peaceful-it had a nice pond with ducks, palm trees surrounding it... I asked the guard outside what it was, they said "jail" and I asked if I could go in. and I did....and we drank cha and ate biscuits together. It was one of the first times I felt like I wasn't simply taking from this place. They wanted a visitor and I could give them that. a reciprocal interaction. I plan to go back and talk with them again, once my bangla improves. or even if it doesn't. ;)
Monday, October 02, 2006
Dhaka Dhaka Dhaka
A serene piece of Bangladesh I found on a walk one day.
Roadside fruit. everywhere.
Me, Reba, Robin at coffee world. I had a straight up double espresso to make up for lost time. mmmmm. it was so gooooood. And I found whole bean coffee in Dhaka! I can have my addiction back. Life is better with coffee in it. ;)
I went to Dhaka this past weekend...found some blue jeans--for 450 taka, about 7 dollars, bought a couple more salwar kamiz, ate mexican food, ate ice cream, ate chinese, ate ate ate all the good food that the big city has to offer! :) In NA I love cities for the atmosphere, the cool pubs, the coffee shops, the greasy spoons, the parks, the people; here it seems like I love cities because I can eat things I never get to eat and buy things like kidney beans that are only available in Dhaka. It is certainly a very different way of thinking about cities. The above picture is of New Market. Crowds Crowds--and hungry ones b/c it is ramadan and everyone is fasting...shopping made me exhausted, but we did see some great handicraft places, some of which MCC partners with. I bought and orna, and am super excited b/c I am going to have my tailor make it into a br shirt. I never thought I'd be excited about an orna. (reminder: the orna is the ANNOYING piece of cloth that goes around my neck, to cover my chest, for modesty's sake, going out with no orna means you are a loose loose woman)
Shopping here is a mixed bag. I felt like I was being thrifty, and felt like I was treating myself to things I haven't had for a long time...but then here we are, making rickshaw wallahs drive us around, to our fancy shops for like 15 cents. I am super excited to find dark chocolate, then there is a begger right there outside the store--do I share? do I walk right on by? do I just not eat it infront of them? it is not like beggars and poverty do not exist in the US, there are lots of similarities here and there, similar questions are coming to mind in terms of what is the right way to go about handling these situations. And again it is hard to be continously compassionate. Especially when I am frustrated at the amounts of STARES and blobs of english that get thrown my way daily as I just walk down the street. It is up and down. Each situation brings a different reaction. I am thankful for the chance to continue to think about these questions, hopefully from a new angle, even though I know that they will always remain.
Roadside fruit. everywhere.
Me, Reba, Robin at coffee world. I had a straight up double espresso to make up for lost time. mmmmm. it was so gooooood. And I found whole bean coffee in Dhaka! I can have my addiction back. Life is better with coffee in it. ;)
I went to Dhaka this past weekend...found some blue jeans--for 450 taka, about 7 dollars, bought a couple more salwar kamiz, ate mexican food, ate ice cream, ate chinese, ate ate ate all the good food that the big city has to offer! :) In NA I love cities for the atmosphere, the cool pubs, the coffee shops, the greasy spoons, the parks, the people; here it seems like I love cities because I can eat things I never get to eat and buy things like kidney beans that are only available in Dhaka. It is certainly a very different way of thinking about cities. The above picture is of New Market. Crowds Crowds--and hungry ones b/c it is ramadan and everyone is fasting...shopping made me exhausted, but we did see some great handicraft places, some of which MCC partners with. I bought and orna, and am super excited b/c I am going to have my tailor make it into a br shirt. I never thought I'd be excited about an orna. (reminder: the orna is the ANNOYING piece of cloth that goes around my neck, to cover my chest, for modesty's sake, going out with no orna means you are a loose loose woman)Shopping here is a mixed bag. I felt like I was being thrifty, and felt like I was treating myself to things I haven't had for a long time...but then here we are, making rickshaw wallahs drive us around, to our fancy shops for like 15 cents. I am super excited to find dark chocolate, then there is a begger right there outside the store--do I share? do I walk right on by? do I just not eat it infront of them? it is not like beggars and poverty do not exist in the US, there are lots of similarities here and there, similar questions are coming to mind in terms of what is the right way to go about handling these situations. And again it is hard to be continously compassionate. Especially when I am frustrated at the amounts of STARES and blobs of english that get thrown my way daily as I just walk down the street. It is up and down. Each situation brings a different reaction. I am thankful for the chance to continue to think about these questions, hopefully from a new angle, even though I know that they will always remain.
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