Two months in Dhaka has come to an end, crazy I know, feeling quite the veteran here. However, this means my last week must include everything I haven't done but kept meaning to for the past 8 weeks... So here's a whistlestop tour of how to leave Dhaka in style:
Number 1: Sitting on top of a train.
In my opinion one of the things you have to do in a country like Bangladesh is sit on top of a train, admit it Slumdog Millionaire inspired the dream. Can you imagine people at London Euston jumping on top of a train for their daily commute to save a few quid?! Luckily the Muslim EID festival at the end of August was the perfect opportunity here as everyone attempts to go home creating hoards of Bengalis on the move. My first step was convincing a willing Bengali speaker to come along, Tanvir manned up to the role. This role then took a life of its own as we attempted to make this a 'how-many-weird-modes-of-transport-can-be-used-in-one-journey' mission. In order to get to the train station we figured on top of a bus could be the most interesting option but me being a foreigner made this almost impossible as no driver would allow me, fearing my death could be bad press for Dhaka. Our trump card was used as we managed to hitch hike to the train station on the back of a truck, a pretty impressive thing to say you've done in Bangladesh eh! At the train station more issues arose as me falling off a train would definitely be bad publicity so police at the station swarmed around us like flies. Their work was cut out though as the masses of Bengalis sitting on the train tracks and jumping on trains created enough work for most of the police; people were literally jumping on to the top of the train from the railway bridge over the tracks... While not quite that daring, walking around the back of one train we managed to sneak onto the driver's cabin and with the aid of some Bengalis clamber onto the top. SUCCESS. As the train noisily snakes through Dhaka this was something I will never forget, the view from the top is incredible. As for fear, the train goes relatively slowly so balance is no issue while the train is wide enough to sit comfortably. Our train was relatively quiet, which the few Bengalis with us were loving as they blared music out their phones and even danced a bit. Clearly inspired by the party atmosphere I managed to stand up just long enough for a few photo opportunities ;-). The best thing was without a doubt the view though, slums in Dhaka begin incomprehensibly close to the railway line, as you pass you can see inside all the shacks as children play on the lines, women wash their hair, and men gossip. It really feels like a different world and is a stark contrast to sitting inside a train even beside the window. The only slight difficulty are the dangling cables and branches, but if you've got your wits about you you'll be alright!
Number 2: EID
After the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan, the Eid celebrations are sort of like Muslim Christmas with a party vibe in the air and 3 days of celebrations. They are mainly family events as the whole of Bangladesh virtually closes down as everyone goes back to their home towns. Luckily though I was able to join Mariam's family for Eid providing another new Dhaka experience for me! As this is the first day Muslims can eat before sunset in a month they really go all out with their calorie intake now, the day starts with a huge breakfast then lunch at your own house before going out visiting to eat insane amounts of food at more houses. In Bengali culture its rude not to eat what you are given so something has to be eaten at every house. Therefore the most houses you visit the more you eat and unfortunately Mariam has a pretty massive family. Old ladies are apparently very eagle eyed when it comes to watching if you have eaten sufficient amounts and have no qualms about shoving more and more food on your plate; every time you sit down these little trolleys are ushered into the room carrying plates and plates of food that you simply can't refuse! Shutong and I both being non-Bengali found this absolutely hilarious, especially watching Shutong almost throwing up what she'd just been forced to eat. In one house we were given this drink that was like grapefruit water with milk and was absolutely disgusting but we all tried to be polite and insist it was 'khub ballo', one of the Mariam's young cousins was there though and after drinking some announced really loudly 'this is disguting' to our huge enjoyment. On the whole though the food was spectacular and definitely a Bengali experience I won't get to have every day!
Number 3: Staying in an Children's Orphanage
Since my home from home with Mariam would be pretty lonely after she left, I decided to spend my last week at a children's orphanage which also runs a guest house... It was of course only when I got there that I remembered I am awful with children and even worse with babies, generally I just make them cry. Point proven when I actually dropped one of the babies (no joke). Just onto the bed but still I don't think they'll be letting me pick her up again any time soon. While on my last day the children almost drank my nail varnish remover thinking it was a mango drink! However, when I wasn't trying to harm the children it was an amazing experience, the orphanage is very small and only takes older children so they mostly run about and play games or watch TV while attending school in the day. They also double up as very handy staff for the few guest rooms there; they brought me breakfast every morning, washed my clothes, and even attempted to tidy my room. At dinner time, I provided great amusement as they watched me eat with my hands (the Bengali way) just like them. Eating rice for dinner then rice with milk for desert is slowly taking its tole though I must admit. I also got to go to school with the girls one morning which was incredibly surreal, I just walked in there with the girls and instantly I was treated like a celebrity being shown around all the classes and meeting the teachers. They of course all asked me my name and hilariously all pronounced my name with my scottish accent and slight lisp! Olivia is just one of those names you can't say in a Bengali accent as v is not really a sound; therefore the word available in a Bengali accent sounds far more like abalable, I do a great Bengali impersonation party piece now!
Number 4: Navigating public transport on my own.
Although I have been in Dhaka for two months, since I have been living with Mariam I have been able to share the luxury of her driver meaning my Dhaka transportation navigating is very limited. From the children's orphanage to the BRAC offices is a fair trek and instead of using the slightly dodgy iron caged CNG taxis I decided I would hurl myself in the deep end and attempt to use the very local looking (a small tin can) public bus. First step was finding the right bus, as they just yell out their destinations in Bangla:
Me: Gulsham
Randomer: Sorry?
Me: GULSHAM
Man and Friend: Sorry where do you want?
Me: GULSHAM!
At this point a crowd starts to gather who all listen to me frantically screaming Gulsham while looking very perplexed. Until eventually someone goes in exactly the same way I have been saying it: AH GULSHAM! So there we go, half of Mirpur knows my final destination so I am instantly ushered towards other people Gulsham bound. Of course the first people to talk to me were old Bengali men, I should have remembered that when it comes to buses no matter where you are in the world its the elderly you need to hit up. So two old men took me under their wing getting me on the bus and making sure I got to the right place at the end (being a foreigner and a women meant I got absolute prime bus seat right next to the driver (literally) but unfortunately right over the very hot engine also. This was no A/C luxury btw. I got talking to the old men and would you believe it one of them had been to Vienna, Italy, France, Spain: he says he loves to travel. Well I'll be damned!
Number 5: Getting mugged.
And finally, and definitely not planned, in my last week I had to of course get my purse stolen. For any one who knows me the fact I have been in Bangladesh and Thailand for the past two months with no major incidents of lost items is a bloody miracle. And after all the warning stories, in a way it is another thing that must be done in Dhaka. After it happened suddenly everyone dug deep for their horror stories from CNGs (the small taxi cage things from which the driver stole my purse). The worst one I heard was a CNG stopping beside a car, someone from the car then got out gassed the CNG, then stole everything in cahoots with the CNG driver. I was merely pick pocketed so I can't be too upset... Bengalis are so kind though, one of the guys who works at the orphanage despite earning nothing tried to give me some money which was very heart warming. I also went to his house which was another eye opening experience. It literally consists of one tiny tin room that just about fits a wardrobe and a double bed on which 6 people sleep every night, he asked me how many rooms my house had. I said just three and he was absolutely amazed at how rich I must be. Bangladesh is definitely a city of two extremes with the wealthy and poor living hugely contrasting lives.
So there we go my last week in Bangladesh, I can't wait to go but I will definitely miss my home for the past two months. Here being foreign is like being a local celebrity, I went with one of the interns on a day trip to Old Dhaka and we went to the old palace there. It was mainly Bengalis there and suddenly everyone wanted photos with me and I had people swarming around me; that will certainly never happen to me in Glasgow. On another note though people in Glasgow will at last understand what I am saying! Meeting Americans here has made me realise that I almost speak a different language; expressions such as 'check me', 'sorting me out', 'wee', 'kicking about' and god so many others are just not understood here at all...
DHAKA - Goodbye; GLASGOW - Hello!
Wednesday 7 September 2011
Sunday 28 August 2011
What Dhaka really has to offer...
Time certainly flies, with the internship at BRAC heading full pelt towards an end before it even seemed to begun (well it sort of never did start). Which means no more observations of the goings on at the head offices of an NGO but the promise of work in a research team has given us a little more to do. Our last day was therefore spent eating the canteen food (only 25p for a full lunch) and meeting Sir Abed the head of BRAC, a bit of a celebrity moment where we all got a photo with him!
With a few weeks left though we had to start finding things to do though! One of the good things about living in the cultural lull that is Dhaka for two months is having the time to visit the array of attractions that that no other tourist would visit. First stop Dhaka's very own theme park - Fantasy Kingdom.
Mariam having Bengali roots means she knows half of Bangladesh (Bengalis like to be very well connected with everyone having everyone's mobile number, even the rickshaw driver will ask for your number then text you pleading for money) so using her connections we all got free passes - YEAH.
The obligatory two hour drive through Dhaka's terrible roads just to move a few miles thanks to Dhaka's dreadful roads was worth it (almost). You see firstly as it was Ramadan the place was deserted with the eery appearance of the set of a Scooby Doo episode. Walking around the bright coloured paving and rides with slightly fading paint you could also be touring sets for a horror movie. While the rides were definitely more fairground than theme park, on the way there one of the girls declared that Thorpe Park was 'not that good' so she was in for a treat when we arrived.
It was a wonderfully surreal experience though as the few working rides had no queues, in a few hours we managed to go on a whirly thing, walk though the Vortex Tunnel (a few dodgy mirrors and a shaky floor), even braving the Roller Coaster (more of a Caterpillar Train for fairground veterans). Without a doubt though the highlight was the Bumper Cars that after a few technological difficulties proved to be an almost deadly experience thanks to the boys. With no breaks and an accelator than goes from 0 to 60 far quicker than my own car these things are damn snappy and a lack of seatbelts provides the potential for whiplash as an added extra. So it was great fun crashing into each other full pelt as we were able to do what would make a UK health and safety officer turn in their grave.
Pretending we were on a ride and the wonderful Vortex Tunnel!
Next on our cultural quest was visiting the historic core of Dhaka the aptly named Old Dhaka. My first trip was at night with Mariam's cousins to experience the last meal Bengalis have before dawn, Sehri at 2am. Even at this late hour Dhaka was packed with people all eating from stalls and the sweet shops were all making delicious fresh mushti. We however shunned this for a very old school restaurant and a meal of naan bread, dahl, and fish in an oily sauce. Scrumptious food and we were even put in a booth that was for women only (not needed anymore just a decorative quirk I was assured).
After a meal at 2am.
My next trip to Old Dhaka involved a tour that showed us around the heritage sites that need renovating. With so many development issues in Dhaka and Bangladesh as a whole any budget NGOs or foreign actors in the country have goes straight, and rightly so, as aid to development projects. Therefore projects that aim to rejuvenate old parts of the cities or reconstruct old historic buildings have little or no funding available. Finding these architectually beautiful buildings that are crumbling away is quite a trail as they are tucked away behind side streets or old rusty gates. Old Dhaka is definitely where the character of the city is contained full of old mosques (one of which we entered creating a potential religious crisis as I tried to put my shoes on inside) as well as plenty of tiny streets with shops containing a plethra of items. During Ramadan the breaking of fast at Iftar is a huge event so in the main food market, Chowk Bazaar, the stalls were all selling snack type (and very fried) food for Iftar. As this is the most exciting food market in Dhaka to buy food with street stallers all busily frying and preparing the feasts in front of you a local news crew was there filming a feature. To their delight us 'stick out like a sore thumb' foreigners were there to add the perfect addition to the news feature so with them speaking no English and us speaking no Bangla we stood surrounded by Bengalis announcing very slowly and loudly 'HELLO, WE ARE IN THE CHOWK BAZAAR BUYING IFTAR FOOD. IT IS DELICIOUS'. Mariam's family later saw us on the news, so although I have yet to find it, I definitely have Bangladeshi celebrity status now. In the BRAC office, a woman even recognised us in the lift!
Iftar Food
Feeling that our stomachs had strengthened sufficiently we decided to buy some snacks from here and sneakily eat them in the car (before Iftar time) and I wish I could say my eating decision was a good one but the Chowk Bazaar got its revenge and food poisoning managed to take hold of me for the next few days. Luckily shopping is one thing that can not get me down on our discovery that Dhaka does actually have civilisation. Firstly in the form of a shopping mall, that has many floors of shiny delight, yet still bizarrly manages to maintain a completely Bengali identity. Bangladesh is one of the few places where Western culture has not hit so the shopping mall is stuffed full of shops selling Bengali clothes and material, pirate DVDs and Playstation games, and even the food court only serves curry or fried chicken. At least it looked shiny and I managed to purchase a very outlandish chilli necklace and Bengali baggy trousers for some hybrid Bangla style.
Our other encounter with civilisation has been through our tours of the various ex-pat clubs around the city. These are a sort of haven for foreigners living in Dhaka where you can go and find normal food, exercise in safety, drink alcohol without being judged, and wear strappy tops. So far the American Club has been the only one I have managed to get in to as you need a member to sign you in and our Dhaka contacts only stretch as far as US citizens (apparently the Nordic club is where to be, and there is even a Caledonian Society already taking bookings for its annual Burn's Supper). The American Club is definitely fun to visit as it contains so many foreigners you could (almost) be out of Dhaka and being able to have a drink without a dodgy back alley deal is a novelty.
While finally of course we have managed to eat out in as many restaurants as possible in Dhaka, using trip advisor as a rough guide, however KFC and Nandos are the top rated which is slightly worrying, they do love their fried chicken here! Dhaka prices mean that we can afford to eat in the nicest restaurants which we always enter wearing the casualist attire. Having interns from all around the world means we have attempted to sample restaurants from everyone's country (haggis is non existant sadly). We have had chinese, japanese, korean, indian and thai receiving mixed reviews from everyone. The North Korean restaurant here though is apparently used by Kim Jong-il for money laundering, adding a little extra to our experience there. The best bit though is getting free Iftar food from Mariam's family which is always absolutely amazing....
An Iftar feast courtesy of Mariam's mother...
With a few weeks left though we had to start finding things to do though! One of the good things about living in the cultural lull that is Dhaka for two months is having the time to visit the array of attractions that that no other tourist would visit. First stop Dhaka's very own theme park - Fantasy Kingdom.
Mariam having Bengali roots means she knows half of Bangladesh (Bengalis like to be very well connected with everyone having everyone's mobile number, even the rickshaw driver will ask for your number then text you pleading for money) so using her connections we all got free passes - YEAH.
The obligatory two hour drive through Dhaka's terrible roads just to move a few miles thanks to Dhaka's dreadful roads was worth it (almost). You see firstly as it was Ramadan the place was deserted with the eery appearance of the set of a Scooby Doo episode. Walking around the bright coloured paving and rides with slightly fading paint you could also be touring sets for a horror movie. While the rides were definitely more fairground than theme park, on the way there one of the girls declared that Thorpe Park was 'not that good' so she was in for a treat when we arrived.
It was a wonderfully surreal experience though as the few working rides had no queues, in a few hours we managed to go on a whirly thing, walk though the Vortex Tunnel (a few dodgy mirrors and a shaky floor), even braving the Roller Coaster (more of a Caterpillar Train for fairground veterans). Without a doubt though the highlight was the Bumper Cars that after a few technological difficulties proved to be an almost deadly experience thanks to the boys. With no breaks and an accelator than goes from 0 to 60 far quicker than my own car these things are damn snappy and a lack of seatbelts provides the potential for whiplash as an added extra. So it was great fun crashing into each other full pelt as we were able to do what would make a UK health and safety officer turn in their grave.
Next on our cultural quest was visiting the historic core of Dhaka the aptly named Old Dhaka. My first trip was at night with Mariam's cousins to experience the last meal Bengalis have before dawn, Sehri at 2am. Even at this late hour Dhaka was packed with people all eating from stalls and the sweet shops were all making delicious fresh mushti. We however shunned this for a very old school restaurant and a meal of naan bread, dahl, and fish in an oily sauce. Scrumptious food and we were even put in a booth that was for women only (not needed anymore just a decorative quirk I was assured).
My next trip to Old Dhaka involved a tour that showed us around the heritage sites that need renovating. With so many development issues in Dhaka and Bangladesh as a whole any budget NGOs or foreign actors in the country have goes straight, and rightly so, as aid to development projects. Therefore projects that aim to rejuvenate old parts of the cities or reconstruct old historic buildings have little or no funding available. Finding these architectually beautiful buildings that are crumbling away is quite a trail as they are tucked away behind side streets or old rusty gates. Old Dhaka is definitely where the character of the city is contained full of old mosques (one of which we entered creating a potential religious crisis as I tried to put my shoes on inside) as well as plenty of tiny streets with shops containing a plethra of items. During Ramadan the breaking of fast at Iftar is a huge event so in the main food market, Chowk Bazaar, the stalls were all selling snack type (and very fried) food for Iftar. As this is the most exciting food market in Dhaka to buy food with street stallers all busily frying and preparing the feasts in front of you a local news crew was there filming a feature. To their delight us 'stick out like a sore thumb' foreigners were there to add the perfect addition to the news feature so with them speaking no English and us speaking no Bangla we stood surrounded by Bengalis announcing very slowly and loudly 'HELLO, WE ARE IN THE CHOWK BAZAAR BUYING IFTAR FOOD. IT IS DELICIOUS'. Mariam's family later saw us on the news, so although I have yet to find it, I definitely have Bangladeshi celebrity status now. In the BRAC office, a woman even recognised us in the lift!
Feeling that our stomachs had strengthened sufficiently we decided to buy some snacks from here and sneakily eat them in the car (before Iftar time) and I wish I could say my eating decision was a good one but the Chowk Bazaar got its revenge and food poisoning managed to take hold of me for the next few days. Luckily shopping is one thing that can not get me down on our discovery that Dhaka does actually have civilisation. Firstly in the form of a shopping mall, that has many floors of shiny delight, yet still bizarrly manages to maintain a completely Bengali identity. Bangladesh is one of the few places where Western culture has not hit so the shopping mall is stuffed full of shops selling Bengali clothes and material, pirate DVDs and Playstation games, and even the food court only serves curry or fried chicken. At least it looked shiny and I managed to purchase a very outlandish chilli necklace and Bengali baggy trousers for some hybrid Bangla style.
Our other encounter with civilisation has been through our tours of the various ex-pat clubs around the city. These are a sort of haven for foreigners living in Dhaka where you can go and find normal food, exercise in safety, drink alcohol without being judged, and wear strappy tops. So far the American Club has been the only one I have managed to get in to as you need a member to sign you in and our Dhaka contacts only stretch as far as US citizens (apparently the Nordic club is where to be, and there is even a Caledonian Society already taking bookings for its annual Burn's Supper). The American Club is definitely fun to visit as it contains so many foreigners you could (almost) be out of Dhaka and being able to have a drink without a dodgy back alley deal is a novelty.
While finally of course we have managed to eat out in as many restaurants as possible in Dhaka, using trip advisor as a rough guide, however KFC and Nandos are the top rated which is slightly worrying, they do love their fried chicken here! Dhaka prices mean that we can afford to eat in the nicest restaurants which we always enter wearing the casualist attire. Having interns from all around the world means we have attempted to sample restaurants from everyone's country (haggis is non existant sadly). We have had chinese, japanese, korean, indian and thai receiving mixed reviews from everyone. The North Korean restaurant here though is apparently used by Kim Jong-il for money laundering, adding a little extra to our experience there. The best bit though is getting free Iftar food from Mariam's family which is always absolutely amazing....
Friday 19 August 2011
Becoming a Bangkoker...
The best thing about arriving with the 40 other people on our very quiet flight from Dhaka to Bangkok is that you feel like you are escaping from hell to some sort of oasis (maybe a slight exaggeration but Dhaka is lacking quite a lot of luxury). Myself and the other other interns were treating Bangkok as a relaxing holiday of sorts where we could eat non-curried food, drink in bars, and sit on a beach without a Birkini (they do exist) and had even used the Hangover II as research...
The next excitement was of course seeing Western brands; even a McDonalds and a Krispy Kreme doughnut stand brought tears of joy to our eyes while the public transport system was beautiful compared to a Dhaka rickshaw. The only off putting factor on Thai public transport is that a number of passengers insist on wearing those air filter mask things which set you slightly at ease as you suspiciously sniff the air...
I do realise I am making Dhaka sound hellish but it is a very isolating place where instant coffee is the best caffeine kick you are going to find. To a very weary bunch of us our first taste of Thai food was in the form of the Aloha Cafe (as authentic as it comes) where we had dumplings, noodles, and thai soup with lots of extra nose running chilli flakes. Stomachs satisfied our first walk along Thai streets did not disappoint, firstly we walked down the main tourist street which is honestly gap year heaven! Every item of clothing that is stereotypically gap yah is on display including patches for your rucksack, elephant trousers, hippy bags, and even a 'travellers passport'. Well when you can't beat em join em so we bought our elephant trousers and headed straight to the air conditioned Starbucks to exchange stories about cultural awareness. It was on a side street near here that we encountered without a doubt the best thing we have ever seen:
Yes that's right a sleeping snorlax with a very unfortunate rip in his trousers. Welcome to Thailand. A tup tup (Thailand's motorised version of the rickshaw) was in order to take us back to the luxury of our hotel where Thailand's next treat our ladyboy hostel receptionist greeted us. Very funny as we all stumbled through whether 'he' or 'she' is the correct term to address the inappropriately named 'Nice' with, she also of course inserted the typical ladyboy joke when she told the boys they could shower in her room LOL.
The boys' main objective on this trip was funnily enough not to shower in her room but to visit the Thailand that only comes out at night and thanks to the very liberal sexual views in Thailand, high frequency of travellers, and abundance of sleazy men is very much alive. As we stumbled through the red light district of Bangkok the offers were pretty overwhelming. I do not need to spell out exactly what was offered but believe me you can literally see ANYTHING in this city, be it a ping pong show, go-go show, or anything else that takes your fancy! The offers were frankly too much so at the boys insistence we were persuaded to go to one bar where women dance in bikinis on pedestals. From a girl's perspective this was anything but hot as slightly out of shape women shuffled from foot to foot before crowding round big fat Western men. Making a sweeping statement here but Thai girls really need to sort out their definition of good looking as every single one I saw is shooting way below their level.
To get our revenge we decided to head to the gay district nearby where boys dressed in an even smaller version of the speedo dance round poles. Keith getting slightly cocky after seeing all the males eyeing him up proceeded to announce he was like the 'Thai Brad Pitt' while Alex was too horrified by his glimpses inside bars to move any further. Keith's Brad Pitt status did gain him an offer of $50 from a gay guy walking down the street proving money in Thailand can buy you anything and at a cheap price too! In an effort to be more manly the boys then had to eat some very disgusting fried insects from a street stand.
It also turned out that travelling with 4 different types of passports does create difficulties, as Chinese Shutong went to get a visa from the Bangladesh embassy to return to Dhaka and was promptly told she could not get one in Bangkok and her only option was to return to China. Meaning our Chinese fifth was being deported basically, a very funny but upsetting scenario especially Shutong shouting out in a bar slightly drunk 'I'M BEING DEPORTED'. To drown her sorrows a visit to a Thai club was in order where we could order actual alcohol and not Dhaka's juice alternatives. As far as people watching goes Bangkok is amazing; the main tourist drinking spots are filled with gap year students, middle aged hippies, and Thai girls with old men. While the non-touristy clubs sport Thai hipsters and lady boys who require a second glance to be sure. It gets so confusing that we declared one the best looking lady boy we had seen in Bangkok before realising: 'That's not a lady boy, that's just a lady'...
Busting a move Thai style...
By day aside from buying ridiculous amounts of souvenirs, the street food is without a doubt the best bit. You can buy coconuts, fresh fruit, sushi, fried fish, baked bananas, fried noodles, noodles with soup, pancakes - all cooked by little stalls and incredibly tasty. Best of all is the fried morning glory that is a menu staple and when you get over the snickering actually quite tasty. Being a Buddhist country Bangkok is also full of beautiful temples with huge golden statues of Buddhists, apparently though asking to have my photo taken in front of one while bowing is inappropriate (oh and asking the Chinese Shutong to take her photo in front of China Town is racist). For Shutong and I though getting to a shopping mall was one of the more enticing prospects of Bangkok and after living in Dhaka was a beautiful glowing beacon containing shops from everywhere in the world; with Korean stationary, Japanese clothes, American food, and yes a TOPSHOP ( I was dragged away though without a glance). I am told that having a dream to visit every Topshop in the world is pretty unambitious and sad...
The next part of our escape from Dhaka holiday was visiting the beach, oh the hard life being an intern is. Getting there was slightly stressful as it involved our coach breaking down (the hand gestures the woman used to describe this were priceless though) but mainly because we sat in front of the most annoying American boy who had just found a very dumb American girlfriend to impress. He spent ages wowing her with his pretentious stories and depictions of all the really out there tattoos he was planning on getting, at one point even explaining earthquakes as 'these like really deep seismic movements that like shake the earth' completed with an almost surfer accent. Sadly the island we were headed to was pretty small and we bumped into the aptly named 'gay yah guy' once too many. At least the boat to the island was very Mamma Mia-esque and old school and once there we got to travel in a jeep type thing with the world's worst suspension so we felt suitably tropical island chic by the time we got to our resort. We approached it with somewhat apprehension as the boys had booked it, so quite frankly we could have been staying anywhere. Luckily the boys are more materialistic than us and had chosen a four star luxury resort complete with a spa, swimming pool, and buffet breakfast that was more than adequate (albeit lacking baked beans).
The bubble of luxury did burst ever so slightly when we realised we were staying in a gay resort for hoards of Asian male couples made even more amusing by the very active gay club that the resort was beside. Being the Thai Brad Pitt made Keith slightly nervous so we moved further along the beach to drink rum coconut cocktails and party with the other travellers on the island. Drink here is served in buckets with straws that are sadly more lethal than they initially appear so dancing on tables was definitely in order.
Luckily to recover the next day staying in a beach resort does have the added bonus of enabling me to have a Thai massage to recover followed by a boat trip to watch the sun set. Shutong decided to meditate on the beach to ensure the desert island feel was complete, the photo we took will apparently make her Mum cry!
Returning to Bangkok however was inevitable in order to ship Shutong back to China so she could then hopefully get back into Bangladesh. For my last day I decided to do what could only be done in Bangkok - WATCH HARRY POTTER. Almost a month after the rest of the world I finally got to see the last instalment with a green tea Japanese latte and the offer of Wasabi popcorn (shunned in favour of a classic mix of sweet and salted). I must admit it wasn't quite the same as watching back home as firstly we all had to stand and sing the national anthem and secondly it was sort of fuzzy. And when I say sort of fuzzy I am a hundred percent sure I paid to watch a pirate copy, which came complete with scribbles jumping up on the screen every now and then. Slightly disappointing but at least I got to watch the magic, the stealing of the Braveheart line 'You and what army' from Neville was a random addition mind....
The next excitement was of course seeing Western brands; even a McDonalds and a Krispy Kreme doughnut stand brought tears of joy to our eyes while the public transport system was beautiful compared to a Dhaka rickshaw. The only off putting factor on Thai public transport is that a number of passengers insist on wearing those air filter mask things which set you slightly at ease as you suspiciously sniff the air...
I do realise I am making Dhaka sound hellish but it is a very isolating place where instant coffee is the best caffeine kick you are going to find. To a very weary bunch of us our first taste of Thai food was in the form of the Aloha Cafe (as authentic as it comes) where we had dumplings, noodles, and thai soup with lots of extra nose running chilli flakes. Stomachs satisfied our first walk along Thai streets did not disappoint, firstly we walked down the main tourist street which is honestly gap year heaven! Every item of clothing that is stereotypically gap yah is on display including patches for your rucksack, elephant trousers, hippy bags, and even a 'travellers passport'. Well when you can't beat em join em so we bought our elephant trousers and headed straight to the air conditioned Starbucks to exchange stories about cultural awareness. It was on a side street near here that we encountered without a doubt the best thing we have ever seen:
Yes that's right a sleeping snorlax with a very unfortunate rip in his trousers. Welcome to Thailand. A tup tup (Thailand's motorised version of the rickshaw) was in order to take us back to the luxury of our hotel where Thailand's next treat our ladyboy hostel receptionist greeted us. Very funny as we all stumbled through whether 'he' or 'she' is the correct term to address the inappropriately named 'Nice' with, she also of course inserted the typical ladyboy joke when she told the boys they could shower in her room LOL.
The boys' main objective on this trip was funnily enough not to shower in her room but to visit the Thailand that only comes out at night and thanks to the very liberal sexual views in Thailand, high frequency of travellers, and abundance of sleazy men is very much alive. As we stumbled through the red light district of Bangkok the offers were pretty overwhelming. I do not need to spell out exactly what was offered but believe me you can literally see ANYTHING in this city, be it a ping pong show, go-go show, or anything else that takes your fancy! The offers were frankly too much so at the boys insistence we were persuaded to go to one bar where women dance in bikinis on pedestals. From a girl's perspective this was anything but hot as slightly out of shape women shuffled from foot to foot before crowding round big fat Western men. Making a sweeping statement here but Thai girls really need to sort out their definition of good looking as every single one I saw is shooting way below their level.
To get our revenge we decided to head to the gay district nearby where boys dressed in an even smaller version of the speedo dance round poles. Keith getting slightly cocky after seeing all the males eyeing him up proceeded to announce he was like the 'Thai Brad Pitt' while Alex was too horrified by his glimpses inside bars to move any further. Keith's Brad Pitt status did gain him an offer of $50 from a gay guy walking down the street proving money in Thailand can buy you anything and at a cheap price too! In an effort to be more manly the boys then had to eat some very disgusting fried insects from a street stand.
It also turned out that travelling with 4 different types of passports does create difficulties, as Chinese Shutong went to get a visa from the Bangladesh embassy to return to Dhaka and was promptly told she could not get one in Bangkok and her only option was to return to China. Meaning our Chinese fifth was being deported basically, a very funny but upsetting scenario especially Shutong shouting out in a bar slightly drunk 'I'M BEING DEPORTED'. To drown her sorrows a visit to a Thai club was in order where we could order actual alcohol and not Dhaka's juice alternatives. As far as people watching goes Bangkok is amazing; the main tourist drinking spots are filled with gap year students, middle aged hippies, and Thai girls with old men. While the non-touristy clubs sport Thai hipsters and lady boys who require a second glance to be sure. It gets so confusing that we declared one the best looking lady boy we had seen in Bangkok before realising: 'That's not a lady boy, that's just a lady'...
By day aside from buying ridiculous amounts of souvenirs, the street food is without a doubt the best bit. You can buy coconuts, fresh fruit, sushi, fried fish, baked bananas, fried noodles, noodles with soup, pancakes - all cooked by little stalls and incredibly tasty. Best of all is the fried morning glory that is a menu staple and when you get over the snickering actually quite tasty. Being a Buddhist country Bangkok is also full of beautiful temples with huge golden statues of Buddhists, apparently though asking to have my photo taken in front of one while bowing is inappropriate (oh and asking the Chinese Shutong to take her photo in front of China Town is racist). For Shutong and I though getting to a shopping mall was one of the more enticing prospects of Bangkok and after living in Dhaka was a beautiful glowing beacon containing shops from everywhere in the world; with Korean stationary, Japanese clothes, American food, and yes a TOPSHOP ( I was dragged away though without a glance). I am told that having a dream to visit every Topshop in the world is pretty unambitious and sad...
The next part of our escape from Dhaka holiday was visiting the beach, oh the hard life being an intern is. Getting there was slightly stressful as it involved our coach breaking down (the hand gestures the woman used to describe this were priceless though) but mainly because we sat in front of the most annoying American boy who had just found a very dumb American girlfriend to impress. He spent ages wowing her with his pretentious stories and depictions of all the really out there tattoos he was planning on getting, at one point even explaining earthquakes as 'these like really deep seismic movements that like shake the earth' completed with an almost surfer accent. Sadly the island we were headed to was pretty small and we bumped into the aptly named 'gay yah guy' once too many. At least the boat to the island was very Mamma Mia-esque and old school and once there we got to travel in a jeep type thing with the world's worst suspension so we felt suitably tropical island chic by the time we got to our resort. We approached it with somewhat apprehension as the boys had booked it, so quite frankly we could have been staying anywhere. Luckily the boys are more materialistic than us and had chosen a four star luxury resort complete with a spa, swimming pool, and buffet breakfast that was more than adequate (albeit lacking baked beans).
The bubble of luxury did burst ever so slightly when we realised we were staying in a gay resort for hoards of Asian male couples made even more amusing by the very active gay club that the resort was beside. Being the Thai Brad Pitt made Keith slightly nervous so we moved further along the beach to drink rum coconut cocktails and party with the other travellers on the island. Drink here is served in buckets with straws that are sadly more lethal than they initially appear so dancing on tables was definitely in order.
Luckily to recover the next day staying in a beach resort does have the added bonus of enabling me to have a Thai massage to recover followed by a boat trip to watch the sun set. Shutong decided to meditate on the beach to ensure the desert island feel was complete, the photo we took will apparently make her Mum cry!
Returning to Bangkok however was inevitable in order to ship Shutong back to China so she could then hopefully get back into Bangladesh. For my last day I decided to do what could only be done in Bangkok - WATCH HARRY POTTER. Almost a month after the rest of the world I finally got to see the last instalment with a green tea Japanese latte and the offer of Wasabi popcorn (shunned in favour of a classic mix of sweet and salted). I must admit it wasn't quite the same as watching back home as firstly we all had to stand and sing the national anthem and secondly it was sort of fuzzy. And when I say sort of fuzzy I am a hundred percent sure I paid to watch a pirate copy, which came complete with scribbles jumping up on the screen every now and then. Slightly disappointing but at least I got to watch the magic, the stealing of the Braveheart line 'You and what army' from Neville was a random addition mind....
Thursday 11 August 2011
Turning into a cultural Muslim while still being extremely foreign in Dhaka....
So far I am fitting into the culture pretty well here I would say. My day of Ramadan fasting was a success, well I managed it I can't say it was an experience I would repeat. It is doable until about 2pm then you get hungry and for the last hour before 6.45pm is it basically torture as not only are you hungry but so thirsty. It was someone's birthday and the Pizza Hut in Dhaka was having an Iftar all you can eat special so I broke fast there. The food is all plated up in advance so everyone can eat at exactly the point it hits 6.45pm so for about 15 minutes the temptation is incredible. Then when you can break fast you eat so much food that you feel as ill as you did befor! So basically the whole experience is sort of pointless. I have thus decided not to fast any more but just have the Iftar feast instead. A cultural Muslim some might say!
In the same way though that not all Christians go to church every Sunday not all Muslims fast so those who don't want to keep their identity secret so cannot eat openly on the street. So instead all these little market stalls open up covered by material so people can sit behind them and eat in secret. An advantage of being a foreigner for me is that I can just crack upon the coke on the street, very cruel I know.
For one Iftar I was able to go with one of my friend's to a political event as her Mum is a politician here. Which meant dressing up like a Bengali and being the only white person in a very Muslim room. My Bengali attire however confused the mainly male room quite a lot and I was asked several times if I was now Muslim, the fact I am not even Christian is a pretty shocking admission here! But I was introduced, thanks to Mariam's Mum, to the former Prime Minister of Bangladesh and very likely next Prime Minister. I am mingling with the Bengali elite it would seem!
The other amusing thing about living in Dhaka is that its illegal for residents to drink and buy alcohol but again not for foreigners. Restaurants here even have signs on the menu saying locals will not be served. So if you want alcohol you either pay ridiculous prices in hotels, buy it from certain ex-pat shops, or do a dodgy deal with a friend of a friend that involves brown bags, dark alleys, and very shifty old bearded guys. And all you get after all that effort is very cheap over-priced whiskey that has a very suspiciously sounding Scottish name! All the cool kids therefore hang out in Shisha bars that look just like UK bars but close at 11pm and everyone is drinking Red Bull... Some of them are even marketed as 'juice bars' serving an array of fruit juice - can't see this concept of late night juice drinking catching on back home somehow. As ex-pats we are also able to take part in the Bi-Annual H & M clothing sale of faulty pieces from the Bangladeshi factories. Which means an absolute riot as everyone foreign in Dhaka turns out to fight for very cheap clothing: the shock of seeing so many non-bengalis in one places causes everyone in the room to have very unsubtle staring contests with one another as you fight for the good non-holey pieces.
I also decided, after the success of my 50p Bosnian fringe cut, to make use of the equally low beauty prices here (a personal favourite is the 3 pound facial) and get a 90p fringe cut. Huge mistake as I swear they just found this woman off the street as she had no clue what scissors even were and stood in front of me hacking off my hair until I was left with a very squint, very straight, and very short fringe. Responses to it so far have been:
'Oh'
'You had your fringe cut!'
And
'No HONESTLY I like it!'
An utter failure, I even grabbed the scissors of her in an attempt to fix the mess. Photos will not follow.
So now I am escaping Dhaka with 4 other interns for the bright lights of Bangkok where I have been promised a Topshop, Starbucks, McDonalds, and a plethora of Thai delicacies. For the boys this also involves the lure of the infamous Ping Ping Shows (google it if you have a strong disposition), lady boys, and strip shows. We have even watched the Hangover II for inspiration... Just getting away from Dhaka's traffic, pollution, and absolute mayhem will be something of a delight...
In the same way though that not all Christians go to church every Sunday not all Muslims fast so those who don't want to keep their identity secret so cannot eat openly on the street. So instead all these little market stalls open up covered by material so people can sit behind them and eat in secret. An advantage of being a foreigner for me is that I can just crack upon the coke on the street, very cruel I know.
For one Iftar I was able to go with one of my friend's to a political event as her Mum is a politician here. Which meant dressing up like a Bengali and being the only white person in a very Muslim room. My Bengali attire however confused the mainly male room quite a lot and I was asked several times if I was now Muslim, the fact I am not even Christian is a pretty shocking admission here! But I was introduced, thanks to Mariam's Mum, to the former Prime Minister of Bangladesh and very likely next Prime Minister. I am mingling with the Bengali elite it would seem!
The other amusing thing about living in Dhaka is that its illegal for residents to drink and buy alcohol but again not for foreigners. Restaurants here even have signs on the menu saying locals will not be served. So if you want alcohol you either pay ridiculous prices in hotels, buy it from certain ex-pat shops, or do a dodgy deal with a friend of a friend that involves brown bags, dark alleys, and very shifty old bearded guys. And all you get after all that effort is very cheap over-priced whiskey that has a very suspiciously sounding Scottish name! All the cool kids therefore hang out in Shisha bars that look just like UK bars but close at 11pm and everyone is drinking Red Bull... Some of them are even marketed as 'juice bars' serving an array of fruit juice - can't see this concept of late night juice drinking catching on back home somehow. As ex-pats we are also able to take part in the Bi-Annual H & M clothing sale of faulty pieces from the Bangladeshi factories. Which means an absolute riot as everyone foreign in Dhaka turns out to fight for very cheap clothing: the shock of seeing so many non-bengalis in one places causes everyone in the room to have very unsubtle staring contests with one another as you fight for the good non-holey pieces.
I also decided, after the success of my 50p Bosnian fringe cut, to make use of the equally low beauty prices here (a personal favourite is the 3 pound facial) and get a 90p fringe cut. Huge mistake as I swear they just found this woman off the street as she had no clue what scissors even were and stood in front of me hacking off my hair until I was left with a very squint, very straight, and very short fringe. Responses to it so far have been:
'Oh'
'You had your fringe cut!'
And
'No HONESTLY I like it!'
An utter failure, I even grabbed the scissors of her in an attempt to fix the mess. Photos will not follow.
So now I am escaping Dhaka with 4 other interns for the bright lights of Bangkok where I have been promised a Topshop, Starbucks, McDonalds, and a plethora of Thai delicacies. For the boys this also involves the lure of the infamous Ping Ping Shows (google it if you have a strong disposition), lady boys, and strip shows. We have even watched the Hangover II for inspiration... Just getting away from Dhaka's traffic, pollution, and absolute mayhem will be something of a delight...
Friday 5 August 2011
Returning to Dhaka and Ramadan...
After another week in rural Bangladesh this time in Dinajpur (google map it ;-)) meant the idea of Dhaka was something of an oasis. The BRAC facilities we were staying at in Dinajpur turned out to be something of an 'experience' (the word used here to mean somewhere I would never return to) with bugs a major issue. Now as a group we considered ourselves able to cope with anything but the bug situation here would challenge most; ants swarmed everywhere amongst half cock-roaches half frogs (froaches naturally), and bugs the size of your hand that I were not aware existed. Even entering the bathroom was an absolute mission while a sighting of a mouse in my room one day was the final straw for my mental state and resulting in screaming the place down and hiding until eventually someone killed it with a broom! Realising we were quite the opposite of hard core and incredibly high maintenance we had the fortunate luck of two girls gaining an AC room that we were told did not exist and also came with a bug free ensuite bathroom. While the Bengalis also staying braved through the bugs (I say this like it even bothered them) and seemed oblivious to rats, we all stayed holed up in the AC room watching TV and complaining (like the good foreigners we are). TV here is something of a cultural mix pot, you get HBO and WB showing a weird selection of Western movies; while Star Movies shows Western movies for Indian audiences (so certain words are omitted such as SHIT); then Arabic chat shows feature a guy in a David Letterman style studio but dressed up in a tea towel; while the only UK channel is BBC Entertainment that shows programmes that the BBC has pulled from the 'never show again pile'. My other impressive feat is that I have managed to eat street food from a Bengali market and not get sick, which is honestly worth praising here! Even a Bengali got sick from it, I realise I am jinxing things though...
Surviving street food and singing in the Monsoon rain..
When we did leave our AC luxury the area was very green and beautiful and we got to ride in a whole array of transport including a very packed public bus that drives suicidally and make shift carts that are basically a plank of wood with a scooter on the front. Very uncomfortable but a novelty factor! When we got to the field the projects were amazing though, we visited two schools with some of the most well behaved children I have ever seen. We taught them the macarena and sang Back Street Boys for the hundredth time (they all just looked very confused while their teacher despaired). It was when we got to the adolescent club though that we met some mad teenagers! The girls were so excited to see us that one of them basically jump hugged Shutong, the Chinese girl in our group, to our great amusement. While they all got their camera phones out to eagerly snap away at us as literally mobbing us. My hair was being stroked from all angles in curiosity while one girl took my earring out my ear to have a look before jabbing it back in my ear! We all agreed that we think this was the BRAC dating service as it was described to us a way for boys and girls to meet and socialise together. One of the interns with us was 15, he had family BRAC connection obv, so we tried to offer him up as a American offering to a bunch of giggling girls. His way of responding was by showing them all a dance called 'the hump' which started by him saying 'you hold your girl like this and...' we are all really hoping they didn't understand or we have mentally scarred a lot of Bangladeshi teenagers...
So leaving the field was with mixed emotions as rural Bangladesh is lovely but does definitely take its toll, especially when sharing accommodation with half of its wildlife. Returning to Dhaka confirmed us as high maintenance, the first thing we all did was go to KFC (there is only one in Dhaka and its pretty swish) where eating non-Bengali stodgy food was amazing (despite it being crap stodgy American food) but the change was welcome. Next on our list was a trip to a beauty parlour where between us we had 2 facials, 2 back massages, 4 eyebrow waxing, a manicure, and a pedicure. Damn was it good. To finish up our welcome to civilisation pack we went to Coffee World then a trip to a Shisha place named MYNT (cool innit), as its illegal to drink here Shisha places are where its at it would seem...
The other exciting thing about being in Bangladesh right now is that its Ramadan, which is obviously a fairly big deal. So basically from the hours of 4.30am to 6.45pm (ish) you don't let anything pass your lips; water, food, coffee, cigarettes. Which in this heat is pretty tough. But from the hours 6.45pm to 4.30am they bloody well eat. At 3.30am you have Sehri which turns out to be an actual meal of everything from curry, bread, rice, dahl etc etc which everyone gets up for and then goes back to sleep after. Then at 6.45pm everyone sits down for snacks called Iftar, which are not snacks at all but a full buffet meal of the most amazing selection of curry, samosas, rice pudding stuff, rice crispy things, lentils, sweet desserts, and so much more. THEN they eat their actual meal at 11pm (ish).
I am currently living with one of the interns, Mariam, which is a dream come true as I get to stay in an actual apartment with a kitchen, air conditioning, and her driver. So I got to go round to her house for Iftar, therefore getting the best of both words, not fasting but still getting the enjoyment of breaking fast and sampling Bengali food! Which is amazing btw; because restaurants etc here are not serving lunch they are make Iftar 'snacks' for you to buy so a delicious spread is easy to get hold off... So last night I was able to go to her house and have amazing food when breaking fast and effectively I have my own adopted Bengali family! Since I had experienced Iftar it seemed logical to see then have Sehri, so with Mariam's family at 2.30am we travelled to visit her relatives for a middle of the night feast. A crazy concept, the nearest to this back home is having food after a night out. So in the middle of the night I had a full on curry, rice, dahl, mango extravaganza...
Since having Sehri I decided that it would make sense to actually fast one day, believe me after food at 4am you do not wake up that hungry and feeling a bit ill if anything. So today is my first (and most likely only) day of fasting... Currently I am only 9 hours in and wow is this tough...
When we did leave our AC luxury the area was very green and beautiful and we got to ride in a whole array of transport including a very packed public bus that drives suicidally and make shift carts that are basically a plank of wood with a scooter on the front. Very uncomfortable but a novelty factor! When we got to the field the projects were amazing though, we visited two schools with some of the most well behaved children I have ever seen. We taught them the macarena and sang Back Street Boys for the hundredth time (they all just looked very confused while their teacher despaired). It was when we got to the adolescent club though that we met some mad teenagers! The girls were so excited to see us that one of them basically jump hugged Shutong, the Chinese girl in our group, to our great amusement. While they all got their camera phones out to eagerly snap away at us as literally mobbing us. My hair was being stroked from all angles in curiosity while one girl took my earring out my ear to have a look before jabbing it back in my ear! We all agreed that we think this was the BRAC dating service as it was described to us a way for boys and girls to meet and socialise together. One of the interns with us was 15, he had family BRAC connection obv, so we tried to offer him up as a American offering to a bunch of giggling girls. His way of responding was by showing them all a dance called 'the hump' which started by him saying 'you hold your girl like this and...' we are all really hoping they didn't understand or we have mentally scarred a lot of Bangladeshi teenagers...
One of the schools we visited and a photo of a wee boy called Meem (he reminds me of Gus from Cinderella)!
The other exciting thing about being in Bangladesh right now is that its Ramadan, which is obviously a fairly big deal. So basically from the hours of 4.30am to 6.45pm (ish) you don't let anything pass your lips; water, food, coffee, cigarettes. Which in this heat is pretty tough. But from the hours 6.45pm to 4.30am they bloody well eat. At 3.30am you have Sehri which turns out to be an actual meal of everything from curry, bread, rice, dahl etc etc which everyone gets up for and then goes back to sleep after. Then at 6.45pm everyone sits down for snacks called Iftar, which are not snacks at all but a full buffet meal of the most amazing selection of curry, samosas, rice pudding stuff, rice crispy things, lentils, sweet desserts, and so much more. THEN they eat their actual meal at 11pm (ish).
I am currently living with one of the interns, Mariam, which is a dream come true as I get to stay in an actual apartment with a kitchen, air conditioning, and her driver. So I got to go round to her house for Iftar, therefore getting the best of both words, not fasting but still getting the enjoyment of breaking fast and sampling Bengali food! Which is amazing btw; because restaurants etc here are not serving lunch they are make Iftar 'snacks' for you to buy so a delicious spread is easy to get hold off... So last night I was able to go to her house and have amazing food when breaking fast and effectively I have my own adopted Bengali family! Since I had experienced Iftar it seemed logical to see then have Sehri, so with Mariam's family at 2.30am we travelled to visit her relatives for a middle of the night feast. A crazy concept, the nearest to this back home is having food after a night out. So in the middle of the night I had a full on curry, rice, dahl, mango extravaganza...
Since having Sehri I decided that it would make sense to actually fast one day, believe me after food at 4am you do not wake up that hungry and feeling a bit ill if anything. So today is my first (and most likely only) day of fasting... Currently I am only 9 hours in and wow is this tough...
Thursday 28 July 2011
leaving Dhaka and hitting rural Bangladesh...
Travelling to the projects the charity I am interning for was the next part of the trip and involved escaping Dhaka and visiting some of rural Bangladesh. The absolute smelly, busy chaos of Dhaka is definitely not a sight I or anyone else would be too sad to leave; not having to escape lethal rickshaw drivers and the constant fear of mugging was welcomed! The four hour potential car ride to the field studies centre was deemed too easy by BRAC (the charity I am interning for) so instead we were shoved on an eight hour bus journey in a local bus to give us a more authentic experience (luckily air conditioning was an allowed luxury - how kind). Like everything in Bangladesh, even if you really try and prepare yourself mentally for something the reality is still a complete shock. The bus station (bearing in mind we are talking about a capital city) is little more than a few huts, a waiting room, and a small area for some buses to turn. The buses of course run on Bangladeshi time (whatever time they want to) so to keep you going there are plenty of people walking about selling everything from popcorn, curby grips, cake, to mango juice. Even at 7am my desire for a bargain ensured a bartering attempt from me.
Man: 10 taka for one...
Me: 10 taka for two...
Man: No
Me: Oh
Keith (to me with a wink): But that is all the money you have isn't it...
Me (confused): Em no...
Keith (to me): I am trying to help you out! Is that you bartering?!
I ended up paying 10 taka for one obviously and loosing all my street credibility (I have tons obv). Once on the bus though the real Bangladeshi experience began. Firstly, buses start driving whether everyone is on or not so you have the hilarity of watching people run on the bus (apparently local buses just never stop to let you off either). People also sit on top of buses (and trains) for a free or majorly reduced ride. A bargain option I may consider in the future ;-). The first thing the bus driver said (translated by one of the Bengali speaking interns) to the bus conductor was that he hadn't slept last night (a hilarious prospect). Luckily the roads were bad enough that there was no possible way he could have fallen asleep, people have clearly never been shown what their mirrors are for, while there are just far too many vehicles on the road (mostly scooters, rickshaws, or auto-rickshaws which can't even go above 10 mph). Therefore instead of looking in the mirrors, here an ingenious system has been set up that involves just beeping your horn constantly to get people to move our your way and bully your way through traffic. Consequently horns just beep continuously, and when you are in a fairly large bus it is a loud noise that after five minutes is more than slightly annoying.
And these are just issues that occur on a daily basis; our first emergency was a flat tyre (although making a loud noise this didn't worry the driver for another fifteen minutes or so). The solution was flagging another bus down and nicking their spare tyre, I can't imagine this working in the UK. Our second emergency was when we realised the AC had stopped working, the driver fiddled around in the back and emerged holding a very broken AC pipe. This was eight hours into our eight hour bus journey and we were not 0 minutes away so a debate was held as to whether we continue without AC (a luxury we had paid bloody extra for!) or wait for another bus to come. We continued but opened all the doors and fire exits to produce a draft, Bangla style.
Getting to the field studies centre then you can imagine was something of a huge relief. We were staying at facilities that were run by our charity so basic but safe. They are a training facility for community leaders and teachers so mainly Bangladeshis staying meaning more stares and lots of questions such as 'what's your religion', 'what do your parents do?' and 'where are you from'. Alright but you constantly feel you are trying to pass some sort of test and these questions are definitely more interregational than friendly. The experience at the field studies centre was one of those where initially it seems really nice with comfortable twin rooms that are ensuite (bucket showers of course mind ;-) ) and 3 good meals provided a day but after a day problems start to show.
FIRST ISSUE: The food - the 3 set meals a day are the same every day and I mean the same. For breakfast it is fried egg, chapatti, and potato stew. Lunch: potato and meat stew, chips, dahl, lots of rice, and cucumber. The dinner the same as lunch. So basically you are intaking pretty bland food that consists almost purely of carbs. Absolute chaos for the digestive system and incredibly boring on the palate. The amount of rice the Bangladeshis eat is absolutely insane! We constantly request pineapples and apples, consequently receiving stares as if we are fruit fiends or something.
Complaining over, rural Bangladesh is amazing! Visiting their projects means going to the village communities in the area. So we have visited a very poor (or ultra-poor as BRAC calls them) village, whereby BRAC gives them all some animals then a weekly allowance for food so they can start a small farm and eat better diets. Then also microfinance programmes where villagers can borrow loans and then use them to either improve their homes or start small enterprises such as shops. Most of the villages we have been to have never seen white people before so we are something of a novelty and everyone comes out to look at the foreigners. They like us to introduce ourselves (my Bangla accent is particularly amusing for them) so I say Amar nam Olivia then ami Scotland. Blank looks always respond to Scotland as clearly it is not a country then know, even Britain gets blank looks whereby London receives a combined 'ooooh'. I am not impressed by their travel aspirations.
This is when everything starts to turn a little gap yar, it is hard not too make it so, as we refrain from using such phrases as 'culturally aware'. As I take photos of the village children, Russell Kane's comedy sketches of gap year students saying 'oh look a brown person, take a photo' do spring to mind! At times political correctness can be taken too seriously and just goes out the window here. I held a baby who instantly starting crying, apparently he prefers brown people they matter of factly stated! We also commentated ( in english) on a very white baby, our guide/translator instantly asked why to our horror, apparently she has a very white husband. Luckily children here do seem to genuinely love having their photo taken and then seeing the results but more amusing is that people like to take photos of us, you stand on the street and Bengalis are all getting their camera phones out and snapping us. One man even approached me and asked if he could take a photo of me with his daughter! The babies are particularly cute with their little pudgy arms. I did accidentally make fun of a toddler with rickets though (I thought he was just trying to walk like a sumo wrestler)! On the whole I have managed not to insult the Bangladeshi population too much mind.
Getting to the villages is one problem though as the auto-rickshaws (scooters with a seating cabin out the back) drive manically, we have already been in one crash, as they just literally drive out side roads without even considering looking. To solve the terrible transportation problems we decided to hire a car that would of course be much safer than an auto-rickshaw. Entering the luxury of an air conditioned car (after our air conditioned rooms!) plunged us straight back into a wonderful sense of security. Two minutes out the gates of our centre and wham we crashed into a bus, you see our driver (in typically Bangladeshi style) just swung out without even glancing into a very full bus that didn't even have mirrors. The damage was minor but the fear was there. This was unfortunately not a one off and our driver turned out to be an absolute maniac, as we drove down the country roads that are full of vehicles but less disciplined than the city streets, his driving was honestly like something out of Grand Theft Auto or some other video game where you move fast dodging in and out of obstacles. He just kept moving at a ridiculous fast pace beeping his horn while weaving around cars, rickshaws, bicycles, and people. Needless to say there was lots of screaming, so to calm us down we decided to sing. BAD IDEA - the guy just went faster in an effort to drop us off faster and escape our singing.
For our last night here some local entertainment was organised at one of the villages, BRAC helps run theatre performances which are fun to watch but also educational to the local community. So we went to watch a performance that taught the villagers about their legal rights and domestic abuse through the medium of live theatre. Sitting with the local children on mats at the front was pretty special as they were so happy to see us there and it was a treat for them getting to see some dancing and singing. We brought biscuits which of course went down a treat but did mean we were mobbed by huge swarms of children who seemed to come from nowhere. In typically Bangladeshi style just as the performance started the heavens literally opened spitting out heavy but hot rain, the type that really soaks you. Just like a Bollywood movie though it was great fun for a while as everyone danced in the rain and the children loved jumping around with us - it was very memorable! Leaving in our warm cars was quite sad but since the theatre was cut short we decided to maybe have a different dinner and sample a Chinese restaurant in town. One of the interns is Chinese and was so excited about having some Chinese food here as apparently British and American chinese restaurants are rubbish and greasy! Turns out rural Bangladesh is not the place to go to sample culinary excellence as we got the greasiest, gloopiest meal you could imagine. Shutong deemed it 'fake Chinese' noting that there weren't even any Chinese people in the restaurant!
So our first week in the North-West (check out a map!) corner of Bangladesh has certainly been interesting, entertaining, and memorable, but also terrifying, and very bizarre!
Friday 22 July 2011
The first four days in Dhaka
DAY 1
Arriving in Dhaka was definitely throwing myself in the deep end of the East Asian swimming pool! No gentle easing in with a trip to Tokyo, Singapore, Beijing, or even Bangkok; bang slam straight into Dhaka. Whatever you see or hear will still leave you unprepared...
You arrive into humidity levels nearing 100% (I didn't even know that was possible but the pilot happily divulged) meaning your clothes instantly stick to you, while monsoon rains hit off tin roofs and a mass of taxi drivers in various contraptions wait to whisk you away. I opted for the exclusive limousine service (Bangladeshi style this just means a weathered taxi). The journey was enough excitment for the year; no one follows rules here, everyone drives all manner of things forward blindly and beeps their horns. Creating a very noisy, but thanks to the rickshaws, very colourful duel carriageway. After mega swerving and life threatening moments we ended up nearish my accomodation; the problem here is that the streets are so random no one knows where anything is so every journey involves about 10 stops to ask for directions.
Finally arriving, I found my single room containing a double and single bed despite requesting just a single. This confused me greatly as I was sure I had a private room so spent the afternoon expecting others to turn up, my jet lagged state also made me presume I was then sharing a bathroom so went down to reception to ask where it was. I was then taken back to my room where they opened the obvious door to the ensuite, giving me very confused looks as to where I had come from that ensuite bathrooms were not normal. So apparently the extra beds are all for me, meaning a whole plethra of places to watch TV from. Therefore first things first I made an inventory of all the English TV channels. Before settling down for my first Bangladeshi meal cooked by the hotel 'cook' from a slightly suspicious looking kitchen (you just eat what he gives you). Luckily my Bangla stretches to niramish (vegetarian) ;-). Dinner comprised of spiced vegetables, an oily soup, and enough rice to sink a ship with a little mango on the side for good measure. Good, especially the mango which I threw caution to the wind and ate (raw fruit and vegetable is bad news apparently).
DAY 2
Ok this day was virtually a write off. I woke up, looked at my watch read 5 and presumed this was am and I had woken up early so attempted to get back to sleep. Failed, got up, then realised it was 5pm! Felt I should probably leave the hotel, but the guidebook (in its infinte wisdom) advised against going out after dark, so I selected its nearest recommended eatery (luckily just down the road). Here everything on the outside looks a bit dodgy but inside I was relieved to see I had found one of Dhaka's nicer eating experiences serving 'authentic' Indian cusine at a fraction of home's prices.
VERDICT: Tasted just like a curry from back home. The Naan was good mind.
DAY 3
Since the fail of yesterday I had failed even further in then not getting to sleep until 5am and despite needing to be up for the first day of my internship at 7am. Not to worry, the first day of my internship involved getting across town to the offices of the NGO I was working for, and as far as I am concerned the only way to travel here is by one of the literally (correct use of the term here) thousands of rickshaws scattered across the city! You can't walk anywhere without someone trying to get you to take a ride in their rickshaw ;-) . They are amazing though, brightly coloured, and most importantly dirt cheap. Problem is I have not quite got my bartering right yet and seem to go either horrendously too low (at like 10p) or let them rip me off (I say this like its expensive we are still talking no more than a pound). My first journey across the city was definitely eye opening as we have to go through one of the slums which is dirty, smelly, but an experience. You certainly feel 'Western' here as you walk down the street as I feel like the new circus attraction in town. It leaves you feeling very self conscious that you are offending the local population with something you are doing but I am assured it happens to everyone! After meeting the other interns with me, we looked for something to do in the evening, unfortunately despite Dhaka being a huge city there is surprisingly little! This must be the only capital city in the world not showing Harry Potter to my huge disappointment! However, the one cinema in the city is showing Twilight right now (the first not even second or third mind) so I that can take up a few evenings I reckon ;-). Resulting in us ending up in an internet cafe that must be one of the more western options the city has to offer with a coffee menu featuring syrups and waffles and sandwiches on offer (plenty of time for eating curries another day) . Sitting in its air conditioned splendour I could have been in Glasgow, even the internet connection is dodgy here, reminds me of Virgin! Thankfully they understand the English for 'can you switch it off and on again' - works a treat!
DAY 4
Today I was back on a rickshaw to the offices of the NGO, BRAC http://www.brac.net/ I was interning with. Where we learnt about all the work the charity does in Bangladesh and further afield, largely in the area of microfinance, whereby BRAC gives small loans to the poor so they can invest the money and start a business or better their lifes which they then pay back at a fair interest rate. At the weekend we will be travelling to their projects in rural areas (I am already looking forward to escaping the crazyness of Dhaka). I decide that I probably should buy some more Bangla looking clothing attire (disguise is the key I reckon), Topshop has yet to reach here sadly so my attempts at style are not particularly appreciated. Walking about though is impossible, if you do manage to read a map nothing is where it is meant to be, there are no pavements, and rickshaws repeatly try to take your life! Even on a rickshaw your life is in danger and the major issue is that rickshaws cannot cross duel carriageways so whenever you hit one, you have to get out the rickshaw cross the road (praying for your life) then got on one at the other side. One shortish journey took 3 rickshaws today (which means being ripped off three times as well). Back to the comfort of my hotel, the Bangladeshi gods were shining on me, as none other than R-Patz's face was on my TV in the form of Cedric Diggory (this is the nearest to the final Harry Potter movie I will get here I feel).
Tonight though, I was leaving the seclusion of the Viator Guest House for a night out Dhaka style. It was one of the boys in the group's birthdays you see, unfortunately alcohol is not readily availiable here, so some sneaky dealings were involved to buy some which was then had at the flats of one of the interns. The boy in question was staying with an American expat host family here and since it was his birthday they let us join them at a party they were going to. Now when you live in a city such as Dhaka with very few Westerners and strict laws you have to make your own entertainment it would seem. The party we ended up at was thus hosted by a rich Western garment guru who turns his flat into a night club every now and then to stop himself going mad apparently. With a balcony view, marble floors, and a free bar we could have been anywhere but I would never have thought this sort of thing would be in Dhaka. It was like finding an Oasis in the Desert - crazy but amazing. Plenty of mum dancing and the most international group of people I have ever met in my life, being Scottish here makes me feel quite exotic (oh the irony)!
Living it up at Casa Loca!
Arriving in Dhaka was definitely throwing myself in the deep end of the East Asian swimming pool! No gentle easing in with a trip to Tokyo, Singapore, Beijing, or even Bangkok; bang slam straight into Dhaka. Whatever you see or hear will still leave you unprepared...
You arrive into humidity levels nearing 100% (I didn't even know that was possible but the pilot happily divulged) meaning your clothes instantly stick to you, while monsoon rains hit off tin roofs and a mass of taxi drivers in various contraptions wait to whisk you away. I opted for the exclusive limousine service (Bangladeshi style this just means a weathered taxi). The journey was enough excitment for the year; no one follows rules here, everyone drives all manner of things forward blindly and beeps their horns. Creating a very noisy, but thanks to the rickshaws, very colourful duel carriageway. After mega swerving and life threatening moments we ended up nearish my accomodation; the problem here is that the streets are so random no one knows where anything is so every journey involves about 10 stops to ask for directions.
Finally arriving, I found my single room containing a double and single bed despite requesting just a single. This confused me greatly as I was sure I had a private room so spent the afternoon expecting others to turn up, my jet lagged state also made me presume I was then sharing a bathroom so went down to reception to ask where it was. I was then taken back to my room where they opened the obvious door to the ensuite, giving me very confused looks as to where I had come from that ensuite bathrooms were not normal. So apparently the extra beds are all for me, meaning a whole plethra of places to watch TV from. Therefore first things first I made an inventory of all the English TV channels. Before settling down for my first Bangladeshi meal cooked by the hotel 'cook' from a slightly suspicious looking kitchen (you just eat what he gives you). Luckily my Bangla stretches to niramish (vegetarian) ;-). Dinner comprised of spiced vegetables, an oily soup, and enough rice to sink a ship with a little mango on the side for good measure. Good, especially the mango which I threw caution to the wind and ate (raw fruit and vegetable is bad news apparently).
DAY 2
Ok this day was virtually a write off. I woke up, looked at my watch read 5 and presumed this was am and I had woken up early so attempted to get back to sleep. Failed, got up, then realised it was 5pm! Felt I should probably leave the hotel, but the guidebook (in its infinte wisdom) advised against going out after dark, so I selected its nearest recommended eatery (luckily just down the road). Here everything on the outside looks a bit dodgy but inside I was relieved to see I had found one of Dhaka's nicer eating experiences serving 'authentic' Indian cusine at a fraction of home's prices.
VERDICT: Tasted just like a curry from back home. The Naan was good mind.
DAY 3
Since the fail of yesterday I had failed even further in then not getting to sleep until 5am and despite needing to be up for the first day of my internship at 7am. Not to worry, the first day of my internship involved getting across town to the offices of the NGO I was working for, and as far as I am concerned the only way to travel here is by one of the literally (correct use of the term here) thousands of rickshaws scattered across the city! You can't walk anywhere without someone trying to get you to take a ride in their rickshaw ;-) . They are amazing though, brightly coloured, and most importantly dirt cheap. Problem is I have not quite got my bartering right yet and seem to go either horrendously too low (at like 10p) or let them rip me off (I say this like its expensive we are still talking no more than a pound). My first journey across the city was definitely eye opening as we have to go through one of the slums which is dirty, smelly, but an experience. You certainly feel 'Western' here as you walk down the street as I feel like the new circus attraction in town. It leaves you feeling very self conscious that you are offending the local population with something you are doing but I am assured it happens to everyone! After meeting the other interns with me, we looked for something to do in the evening, unfortunately despite Dhaka being a huge city there is surprisingly little! This must be the only capital city in the world not showing Harry Potter to my huge disappointment! However, the one cinema in the city is showing Twilight right now (the first not even second or third mind) so I that can take up a few evenings I reckon ;-). Resulting in us ending up in an internet cafe that must be one of the more western options the city has to offer with a coffee menu featuring syrups and waffles and sandwiches on offer (plenty of time for eating curries another day) . Sitting in its air conditioned splendour I could have been in Glasgow, even the internet connection is dodgy here, reminds me of Virgin! Thankfully they understand the English for 'can you switch it off and on again' - works a treat!
Dhaka from the BRAC roof
Today I was back on a rickshaw to the offices of the NGO, BRAC http://www.brac.net/ I was interning with. Where we learnt about all the work the charity does in Bangladesh and further afield, largely in the area of microfinance, whereby BRAC gives small loans to the poor so they can invest the money and start a business or better their lifes which they then pay back at a fair interest rate. At the weekend we will be travelling to their projects in rural areas (I am already looking forward to escaping the crazyness of Dhaka). I decide that I probably should buy some more Bangla looking clothing attire (disguise is the key I reckon), Topshop has yet to reach here sadly so my attempts at style are not particularly appreciated. Walking about though is impossible, if you do manage to read a map nothing is where it is meant to be, there are no pavements, and rickshaws repeatly try to take your life! Even on a rickshaw your life is in danger and the major issue is that rickshaws cannot cross duel carriageways so whenever you hit one, you have to get out the rickshaw cross the road (praying for your life) then got on one at the other side. One shortish journey took 3 rickshaws today (which means being ripped off three times as well). Back to the comfort of my hotel, the Bangladeshi gods were shining on me, as none other than R-Patz's face was on my TV in the form of Cedric Diggory (this is the nearest to the final Harry Potter movie I will get here I feel).
Tonight though, I was leaving the seclusion of the Viator Guest House for a night out Dhaka style. It was one of the boys in the group's birthdays you see, unfortunately alcohol is not readily availiable here, so some sneaky dealings were involved to buy some which was then had at the flats of one of the interns. The boy in question was staying with an American expat host family here and since it was his birthday they let us join them at a party they were going to. Now when you live in a city such as Dhaka with very few Westerners and strict laws you have to make your own entertainment it would seem. The party we ended up at was thus hosted by a rich Western garment guru who turns his flat into a night club every now and then to stop himself going mad apparently. With a balcony view, marble floors, and a free bar we could have been anywhere but I would never have thought this sort of thing would be in Dhaka. It was like finding an Oasis in the Desert - crazy but amazing. Plenty of mum dancing and the most international group of people I have ever met in my life, being Scottish here makes me feel quite exotic (oh the irony)!
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