Anne and I spent what was to be my last day in Dhaka taking the business student's tour of south asian commerce. In school, I read quite a bit about how retail works in this part of the world. From a US B-school perspective, the focus was on how retail is different here than the west and how multinational organizations can adapt to this culture. From an historial perspective, I would argue that retailing here is much more traditional than what is happening in the west. Most large companies still have to learn how to do business in areas like this, without completely changing everything.
Our first stop was Newmarket, a traditional shopping district with an open air section, a three story main building, and a food market in the back. Fortuntately for us, Newmarket is slow on Mondays. So, we were able to stroll along in relative comfort and browse the shops. Just like in Old Dhaka, Newmarket is roughly organized into districts. There is an area devoted to fabrics, jewelry, electronics, housewares, etc. With my untrained eye, it is hard to see the difference between the many shops of each type. It is also hard to spend some time looking before buying! The shop owners are eager to help, and to complete the sale! Anne and I certainly were treated like visiting royalty, which meant we don't always get the best price.
I did get a chance to get a closer look at Shinepukur ceramics. This company is a large Deshi conglomerate that started making fine china in 1999 ( http://www.shinepukur.com/ ). You can see some of their patterns at Target! Apparently, it is much cheaper here but I didn't find out for myself.
We peeked into the food market. What chaos! It was a loud pit of agressive men haggling, tossing goods, and otherwise conducting the messy business of trading in food. It was wonderful. There were several spice stalls in the food area that was focused on retail food sales. Those smelled wonderful.
Newmarket is crowded, a little dirty, and haggling is pretty much the norm. It was a really fun way to see what merchants have to offer here, pick up a few gifts, and realize how similar things can be all over the world. The more time I spent there, I noticed some subtle differences between one vendor and the next. Each has has slightly different merchandise. Each also has a very different haggling style. This place is certainly a great experiment in price elasticity! For us, we also differentiated based on the vendor's willingness or ability to deal with us. Anne knows enough Bangla to get by, but it is very hard to do business with someone who doesn't know English numbers. Overall, it was a great experience. I am sad to leave and know that I may never go back!
Our second stop was Bashundara Plaza, a modern high rise shopping center. This places looks, from the outside, like many city center shopping malls - tall, shiny, and wealthy looking. Inside, the shops are arranged just like Newmarket! Shops are segregated by floor. There is a men's floor, a jewelry and beauty floor, a sari floor, a shalwar kamese floor, etc. The shops are small and crowded. The main difference between this and Newmarket is that the shops here are less densely packed with goods. The next thing you notice is that this place is filled with obnoxious mall rats (another similarity with the US).
This concludes my tour of Dhaka and some areas of Dhaka division. I've had a wonderful time and Anne and Randy are wonderful hosts. Which is a good thing since I will be around for a while longer than planned! We've learned that my flight out will be delayed. The incoming plane was diverted to Kolcata. This time it isn't fog, it's some problems on the runway (a plane ruptured a tire). It looks like the flight may be delayed long enough to mess up my connections. Ah, Dhaka! This will complete my Bangladeshi experience.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Shankari Bazzar
I just realized that this blog is set to timestamp my entries based on US eastern time zone (GMT -5). Since we are at GMT +6 here, all my posts are actually happening a half day after the time stamp indicates! (Just add 11 hours)
Yesterday, Anne gave me a tour of Shankari Bazzar. It is an old Hindu neighborhood that is the home for a community that dates back several hundred years. Observant family members will remember her informed entry on the Peale family blog. This community is one of the last surviving Hindu artisan groups in the area. Most Hindus left during separation. They make shankari, beautiful conch shell bracelets that are worn by Hindu brides. Each bracelet is painstakely carved from a conch shell from artisans working in impossibly small spaces. Anne and I both purchase a pair - if we can get them back onto our wrists, you will see an example! The shop owner squeezed our hands into the smallest size possible. Our best guess is that this is somewhat akin to Scarlett O'Hara being squeezed into the smallest corset possible - smaller is better and more feminine. With our large western hands, we still had some of the largest bracelets available!
The bazzar itself is a short, narrow street that is only about 2 US city blocks long. On this day, it was incredibly crowded with rickshaws and people. On our first pass of the street, it was all I could do not to get my sharlwar kamese caught in the wheels of a rickshaw! Thus, there are only a few photos. Our walk was made more difficult by the primitive nature of the area. These buildings are at least 400 years old and they have not been updated with modern conveniences. Like many areas of Dhaka, it was a glimpse into what life was like in most of the world just a short time ago. The roadside was full of household scraps. There were partially open "gutters" on both sides of the road. There are also two Hindu shrines on this street, both of which stop pedestrian traffic. All of these added to the number of road hazzards! The first pass through was definitely overwhelming.
As we made our way back to the car (second pass), we stopped to purchase the bracelets. Stopping and sitting for a spell helped us catch our breath (this was busy even for Anne) and it let the residents stop, stare, and get used to us. (We had collected the usual parade of curious Deshis.) After leaving the shop, making our way was a bit easier. We even ran into the guide from the boat trip yesterday! It almost made Dhaka seem like a small town. We were just about to the car when a Deshi stopped us and admired our bracelets. He introduced himself as a banker and as a Hindu. He told us that if we were to visit the Hindu neighborhood that we should take time to see the Kalipuja (Festival of Khali) happening right at that moment. He told us that a music group was performing religious songs. Normally, you don't go following random people. But here, if someone wants to show off their culture to westerners they are pretty genuine. (there was also a police barack close by...) He took us back down Shankari Bazzar (third pass). He took us down an alley just at the end of the road and after a few steps we saw the large fabric archway and festival tent. It was beautiful! He told us that this festival lasts 9 days and continues 24 hours a day. It is hard to describe the atmosphere in the tent. The air was full of incense and the music was haunting. Everything was vividly colored and beautiful. The crowd was reverently silent. However, no amount of tiptoeing or silence could prevent two white women from disrupting everything. After getting permission to take photos, I quickly snapped a few and we moved on. Our driver was waiting and no one was paying attention to the musicians (even they were staring at us).
The quickest way back was around the block and down an even narrower alley. Through practice and by following our guide, Anne and I finally got the Shankari Bazzar traffic mojo. On our final trip through the bazzar (fourth pass), we were deftly moving through traffic. The trick is to place yourself in between the the back wheels of the the bumper to bumper rickshaws. Effectively, you are walking right next to the front wheel. You can pass when you find a wider spot in the road and move even more quickly when you reach a break in the rickshaws. If you are good, you can keep your pedicure nice and neat at the same time (you are in sandals, of course).
Shankari Bazzar itself is in danger. The Bangladeshi government has condemned the buildings as unsafe and they are scheduled for destruction. There are local architects that are working with the shankari community and the government to help save what remains of the architectural and cultural heritage of this area of Dhaka. Anne wrote about this extensively in their blog, so I will not repeat it here. My hope is that if more westerners show interest in this area as a tourist destination, the locals will come to view it as an important site for preservation.
Yesterday, Anne gave me a tour of Shankari Bazzar. It is an old Hindu neighborhood that is the home for a community that dates back several hundred years. Observant family members will remember her informed entry on the Peale family blog. This community is one of the last surviving Hindu artisan groups in the area. Most Hindus left during separation. They make shankari, beautiful conch shell bracelets that are worn by Hindu brides. Each bracelet is painstakely carved from a conch shell from artisans working in impossibly small spaces. Anne and I both purchase a pair - if we can get them back onto our wrists, you will see an example! The shop owner squeezed our hands into the smallest size possible. Our best guess is that this is somewhat akin to Scarlett O'Hara being squeezed into the smallest corset possible - smaller is better and more feminine. With our large western hands, we still had some of the largest bracelets available!
The bazzar itself is a short, narrow street that is only about 2 US city blocks long. On this day, it was incredibly crowded with rickshaws and people. On our first pass of the street, it was all I could do not to get my sharlwar kamese caught in the wheels of a rickshaw! Thus, there are only a few photos. Our walk was made more difficult by the primitive nature of the area. These buildings are at least 400 years old and they have not been updated with modern conveniences. Like many areas of Dhaka, it was a glimpse into what life was like in most of the world just a short time ago. The roadside was full of household scraps. There were partially open "gutters" on both sides of the road. There are also two Hindu shrines on this street, both of which stop pedestrian traffic. All of these added to the number of road hazzards! The first pass through was definitely overwhelming.
As we made our way back to the car (second pass), we stopped to purchase the bracelets. Stopping and sitting for a spell helped us catch our breath (this was busy even for Anne) and it let the residents stop, stare, and get used to us. (We had collected the usual parade of curious Deshis.) After leaving the shop, making our way was a bit easier. We even ran into the guide from the boat trip yesterday! It almost made Dhaka seem like a small town. We were just about to the car when a Deshi stopped us and admired our bracelets. He introduced himself as a banker and as a Hindu. He told us that if we were to visit the Hindu neighborhood that we should take time to see the Kalipuja (Festival of Khali) happening right at that moment. He told us that a music group was performing religious songs. Normally, you don't go following random people. But here, if someone wants to show off their culture to westerners they are pretty genuine. (there was also a police barack close by...) He took us back down Shankari Bazzar (third pass). He took us down an alley just at the end of the road and after a few steps we saw the large fabric archway and festival tent. It was beautiful! He told us that this festival lasts 9 days and continues 24 hours a day. It is hard to describe the atmosphere in the tent. The air was full of incense and the music was haunting. Everything was vividly colored and beautiful. The crowd was reverently silent. However, no amount of tiptoeing or silence could prevent two white women from disrupting everything. After getting permission to take photos, I quickly snapped a few and we moved on. Our driver was waiting and no one was paying attention to the musicians (even they were staring at us).
The quickest way back was around the block and down an even narrower alley. Through practice and by following our guide, Anne and I finally got the Shankari Bazzar traffic mojo. On our final trip through the bazzar (fourth pass), we were deftly moving through traffic. The trick is to place yourself in between the the back wheels of the the bumper to bumper rickshaws. Effectively, you are walking right next to the front wheel. You can pass when you find a wider spot in the road and move even more quickly when you reach a break in the rickshaws. If you are good, you can keep your pedicure nice and neat at the same time (you are in sandals, of course).
Shankari Bazzar itself is in danger. The Bangladeshi government has condemned the buildings as unsafe and they are scheduled for destruction. There are local architects that are working with the shankari community and the government to help save what remains of the architectural and cultural heritage of this area of Dhaka. Anne wrote about this extensively in their blog, so I will not repeat it here. My hope is that if more westerners show interest in this area as a tourist destination, the locals will come to view it as an important site for preservation.
Friday, February 9, 2007
They've almost got it, now they just need tourists
Yesterday, I went on a tourist boat ride up the Bhramaputra river heading upstream from Dhaka (previously misidentified as the Bariganga; the Bariganga can be seen my previous posting about the tour through old town). This was your typical tourist trip complete with large, comfortable boat, lunch on board, and a couple of cultural stops. Rich and I have been on several of these (it seems like we go on one on every trip). So, I was expecting the usual mix of tourists - a couple on their honeymoon, the flatlanders, some Japanese, and a lone German. Don't ask me why, but these trips ALWAYS have that mix. I am not sure why I had that expectation, since every single Westerner I have met here is here for work or is married to someone who works here. As it turns out, we did have the lone German. I am not sure why he is here (his English wasn't great). As for the others, they were a mix of diplomats from various countries, a water engineer from the UK working on a World Bank project, a woman here as a part of the Southern Baptist Mission, and her mother. Her mother is the only other westerner I have met that is here on a visit. Due to this mix and the personalities involved (those over educated, gregarious, and crazy enough to agree to live in B-desh for a while), the conversation on board was more like a party in Cambridge, MA than typical tourist chit-chat.
The boat ride was a lovely break from the congestion, smog, and noise of Dhaka. This branch of the Bhramaputra is wide and slow moving - and teeming with life. The villages tapered off as we moved north, giving way to larger plots of farming or large industrial sites. In just a short ride up the river, we saw a brick factory, cement, sugar mill (under construction), and several sand harvesting units. For the majority of the trip, we were greeted by villagers who were washing clothes, bathing, and playing in the river. (Friday is a weekend here.) I am not yet sure what percentage of the greeting waves and shouts were friendly, but I chose to let ignorance help me believe they are friendly. There are, of course, some universally understood gestures and signals that are unambiguous. Given the almost universal nature of merchant mariners, we saw several such gestures from the commercial shipping vessels that passed us by. (Friday might be a weekend and the day for prayer, but industry comes first here.) It was a stark reminder of how women, especially white women, are viewed in this culture.
We stopped to view a Rajibara, a landowners house from the time of British rule. It was built in 1901 and is practically in ruins. Our guide told us it is now used as a government university. However, I saw no signs that might indicate its use for anything. The only people there were regular army and what appeared to be squatters (only women and children at that). There are no pictures of the army, per request. The owner of this house was an employee of the local British viceroy. He was Hindu - most Hindus left the country during the separation of India and Pakistan that occured when the British left. The grounds have a private temple, bathing pools for men and women, and a large courtyard in the middle of building that has what would have been a beautiful puja (shrine for a chosen deity).
The trip ashore afforded my fellow boat riders a chance to break the ice. The woman from the German embassy quized me on my opinions of Hillary Clinton and Barak Obama (she would vote for Hillary if she could). The water engineer from the UK comiserated with me on living in the countries with the two highest tax rates (according to him anyway, I have no idea if that is true. I always thought Scandinavian countries won that honor). He also went on about the government surveilence programs and the Blair government. The US embassy doctor cheerfully chatted with everyone, regardless of English ability.
Back on board, the water engineer explained that he is here working on a World Bank project to improve water supplies to Dhaka. Despite the fact the Bangladesh is situated on the largest river delta in the world, it faces a significant clean water problem. The list of primary problems is almost endless, the two biggies are: naturally occurring arsenic and poor water treatment/sanitation. The problem of naturally occurring arsenic is shared with several sites around the world, including somewhere in Argentina (another place he's worked). According to him, scientists in Inda have just announced a groundbreaking way to use coconut husks to filter out arsenic. It is cheap, easy, and sustainable so it give some hope for Bangladesh. The problem with proper sanitation is a harder one to fix. Water engineers have to work on many angles, not the least of which is to educate locals on the dangers of mixing sewage and clean water. (Don't get too high and mighty, westerners figured this out only a couple of hundred year ago.) A bigger problem is how the quaity of the water that reaches Dhaka. The sand harvesting units I mentioned earlier dredge the river bottom, pull up sand, and drain the water back into the river. (The sand is then shipped back to Dhaka at the port from which we launched.) As you can imagine, that stirs up a lot of silt. You can see the silt in the water near these units. The silt creates problems during treatment because it clogs the filters (a simpletons way of putting it). Another problem is the industry on the water. Every factory we saw was dumping waste water directly into the river. (It is now time to get right off that high horse because we still haven't totally fixed this one.)
An even more sobering thought is that these water purification efforts are concentrated on Dhaka. The villagers who live on the river pull the water directly from the river. They have no treatment plants.
A more cheerful stop was to a small village that specialises in fabric weaving. The trip brouchure and the guide emphasized that this village hand weaves traditional Bangladesh muslin saris that are prized for their quality. That is certainly true. We "toured" the factory (one small room) and they demonstrated the weaving technique. It is very intricate. While one of my compatriots asked about child labor, I can say that there were men of all ages (only one female) and only one person looked to be 12-14 years old. These workers also make about double the salary of the garment workers in the factories in Dhaka. What is also true is that this village has at least two automated weaving shops. I know because they were running while we were there. From what I gathered from the guide, the handwoven saris are sold in exclusive shops and through special order, mostly for weddings and other special occaisons. He did not speak of the automated looms, but my assumption is that those are for mass consumption - and tourist sales. I am almost certain that the wrap I bought came from one of the automated looms. Which is fine - and exactly what you would get from a similar place in the US.
Overall, this was a lovely tourist trip with all the trappings of tourist boat trips the world over, just without the tourists.
Once we arrived back at the Guide Tours office in Dhaka, I was back in the hectic crowd and stare world of the Deshis. As I waited for Randy to pick me up I was quickly surrounded by beggars, rickshaw drivers, and CNG drivers all hoping to get some of my business. Not only was Randy on his way, but I have decided that I am covered by the embassy ban on rickshaw rides for employees and family. Sure, it's the scaredy-cats way out but I'll take it.
We ended the day at a nice Korean restaurant. The highlight of the meal was one of the many tasty bits that were offered to us to start the meal. Amongst the expected kim chee, teriyaki, and other pickled items, we received an elegantly presented treat. It was some sort of glutenous mass shaped into a heart. The waiter called it, "vegetable mayonaise salad". Hesitantly, we all tried it. We're pretty sure it was potato salad.
The boat ride was a lovely break from the congestion, smog, and noise of Dhaka. This branch of the Bhramaputra is wide and slow moving - and teeming with life. The villages tapered off as we moved north, giving way to larger plots of farming or large industrial sites. In just a short ride up the river, we saw a brick factory, cement, sugar mill (under construction), and several sand harvesting units. For the majority of the trip, we were greeted by villagers who were washing clothes, bathing, and playing in the river. (Friday is a weekend here.) I am not yet sure what percentage of the greeting waves and shouts were friendly, but I chose to let ignorance help me believe they are friendly. There are, of course, some universally understood gestures and signals that are unambiguous. Given the almost universal nature of merchant mariners, we saw several such gestures from the commercial shipping vessels that passed us by. (Friday might be a weekend and the day for prayer, but industry comes first here.) It was a stark reminder of how women, especially white women, are viewed in this culture.
We stopped to view a Rajibara, a landowners house from the time of British rule. It was built in 1901 and is practically in ruins. Our guide told us it is now used as a government university. However, I saw no signs that might indicate its use for anything. The only people there were regular army and what appeared to be squatters (only women and children at that). There are no pictures of the army, per request. The owner of this house was an employee of the local British viceroy. He was Hindu - most Hindus left the country during the separation of India and Pakistan that occured when the British left. The grounds have a private temple, bathing pools for men and women, and a large courtyard in the middle of building that has what would have been a beautiful puja (shrine for a chosen deity).
The trip ashore afforded my fellow boat riders a chance to break the ice. The woman from the German embassy quized me on my opinions of Hillary Clinton and Barak Obama (she would vote for Hillary if she could). The water engineer from the UK comiserated with me on living in the countries with the two highest tax rates (according to him anyway, I have no idea if that is true. I always thought Scandinavian countries won that honor). He also went on about the government surveilence programs and the Blair government. The US embassy doctor cheerfully chatted with everyone, regardless of English ability.
Back on board, the water engineer explained that he is here working on a World Bank project to improve water supplies to Dhaka. Despite the fact the Bangladesh is situated on the largest river delta in the world, it faces a significant clean water problem. The list of primary problems is almost endless, the two biggies are: naturally occurring arsenic and poor water treatment/sanitation. The problem of naturally occurring arsenic is shared with several sites around the world, including somewhere in Argentina (another place he's worked). According to him, scientists in Inda have just announced a groundbreaking way to use coconut husks to filter out arsenic. It is cheap, easy, and sustainable so it give some hope for Bangladesh. The problem with proper sanitation is a harder one to fix. Water engineers have to work on many angles, not the least of which is to educate locals on the dangers of mixing sewage and clean water. (Don't get too high and mighty, westerners figured this out only a couple of hundred year ago.) A bigger problem is how the quaity of the water that reaches Dhaka. The sand harvesting units I mentioned earlier dredge the river bottom, pull up sand, and drain the water back into the river. (The sand is then shipped back to Dhaka at the port from which we launched.) As you can imagine, that stirs up a lot of silt. You can see the silt in the water near these units. The silt creates problems during treatment because it clogs the filters (a simpletons way of putting it). Another problem is the industry on the water. Every factory we saw was dumping waste water directly into the river. (It is now time to get right off that high horse because we still haven't totally fixed this one.)
An even more sobering thought is that these water purification efforts are concentrated on Dhaka. The villagers who live on the river pull the water directly from the river. They have no treatment plants.
A more cheerful stop was to a small village that specialises in fabric weaving. The trip brouchure and the guide emphasized that this village hand weaves traditional Bangladesh muslin saris that are prized for their quality. That is certainly true. We "toured" the factory (one small room) and they demonstrated the weaving technique. It is very intricate. While one of my compatriots asked about child labor, I can say that there were men of all ages (only one female) and only one person looked to be 12-14 years old. These workers also make about double the salary of the garment workers in the factories in Dhaka. What is also true is that this village has at least two automated weaving shops. I know because they were running while we were there. From what I gathered from the guide, the handwoven saris are sold in exclusive shops and through special order, mostly for weddings and other special occaisons. He did not speak of the automated looms, but my assumption is that those are for mass consumption - and tourist sales. I am almost certain that the wrap I bought came from one of the automated looms. Which is fine - and exactly what you would get from a similar place in the US.
Overall, this was a lovely tourist trip with all the trappings of tourist boat trips the world over, just without the tourists.
Once we arrived back at the Guide Tours office in Dhaka, I was back in the hectic crowd and stare world of the Deshis. As I waited for Randy to pick me up I was quickly surrounded by beggars, rickshaw drivers, and CNG drivers all hoping to get some of my business. Not only was Randy on his way, but I have decided that I am covered by the embassy ban on rickshaw rides for employees and family. Sure, it's the scaredy-cats way out but I'll take it.
We ended the day at a nice Korean restaurant. The highlight of the meal was one of the many tasty bits that were offered to us to start the meal. Amongst the expected kim chee, teriyaki, and other pickled items, we received an elegantly presented treat. It was some sort of glutenous mass shaped into a heart. The waiter called it, "vegetable mayonaise salad". Hesitantly, we all tried it. We're pretty sure it was potato salad.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Trip to Sonargaon
What an amazing day! I don't have much time, so I will have to let the photos speak for themselves. Today, Anne, Sam, and I ventured to Sonargaon. It the old capital of Bengal and has several magnificent ruins that date back to the early Mughal empire (about 500 years old). The main road of ruins reminded us both of Petra - descending into the ruins of an ancient and glorious culture. (Of course, She has seen it in person; I've only seen it in Raiders of the Lost Ark.) The village of Sonargaon was a hectic mish mash of people, mud, rickshaws, baby cabs, cars, trucks, and animals. Amazing! Somehow, amidst all this chaos we were the spectacle.
We stopped at a "Tourist Home Picnic Stop" and picked up a "local guide". We're pretty sure he's just a guy from the village. Anne's driver, Harun, talked with the man so we were pretty sure things were OK. We were not out of the car for two minutes before we picked up an evergrowing parade of children. The ruins were very interesting, and very well preserved given that there is no real preservation here. We also made a quick stop to the local museum. We just wanted to walk the grounds; It was a long ride home and getting late. Harun tried to sneak us in the back way so that we could avoid paying the ticket fee. His heart was in the right place - but it is some feat to sneak two white women and a baby through the back fence around here! The grounds of the museum were in full bloom and quite lovely.
As you can see from the traffic scenes, it was a day that was full of visual stimulation. It was very nice to get out of Dhaka and enjoy the landscape of the surrounding area. The villages seem to be Dhaka, distilled.
I should note that I visited the embassy with Anne twice today. You will be happy to know that the bulding is so secure I had a hard time entering. The second visit was to the commissary (which is less secure). The food there is, well, not the best I've seen in Bangladesh so far.
We ended the day with a pleasant night at a friends house. I have to get up early to make a day long boat ride up the Bariganga river. Some embassy staffers will be joining me.
We stopped at a "Tourist Home Picnic Stop" and picked up a "local guide". We're pretty sure he's just a guy from the village. Anne's driver, Harun, talked with the man so we were pretty sure things were OK. We were not out of the car for two minutes before we picked up an evergrowing parade of children. The ruins were very interesting, and very well preserved given that there is no real preservation here. We also made a quick stop to the local museum. We just wanted to walk the grounds; It was a long ride home and getting late. Harun tried to sneak us in the back way so that we could avoid paying the ticket fee. His heart was in the right place - but it is some feat to sneak two white women and a baby through the back fence around here! The grounds of the museum were in full bloom and quite lovely.
As you can see from the traffic scenes, it was a day that was full of visual stimulation. It was very nice to get out of Dhaka and enjoy the landscape of the surrounding area. The villages seem to be Dhaka, distilled.
I should note that I visited the embassy with Anne twice today. You will be happy to know that the bulding is so secure I had a hard time entering. The second visit was to the commissary (which is less secure). The food there is, well, not the best I've seen in Bangladesh so far.
We ended the day with a pleasant night at a friends house. I have to get up early to make a day long boat ride up the Bariganga river. Some embassy staffers will be joining me.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
That didn't sound like thunder
A very, very loud explosion woke me last night. I scrambled out of bed in a panic, fully aware that the Foreign Minister's house is across the street (apparently, we had some bad information earlier) and that anything can happen here at anytime. I fumbled for my glasses, remembered that my shoes are downstairs, and scurried to the back of the house where Anne and Randy's bedroom is located. I was also fully aware that poor Anne hasn't really slept more than 2 hours each day since we left Dulles. However, that was an explosion and I was not going to kid around. I knock on the door, not too loud so I won't wake Sam. As I go in, I realize (fortunately) that Anne is wide awake, Sam is still asleep, and she tells me it's thunder. Apparently, it had been raining for a while, the electricity had been on/off a few times, and it wasn't even the only peal of thunder (but it was the loudest).
Ah, I am well equipped for this environment.
Ah, I am well equipped for this environment.
Photos updated
With a rock solid internet connection tonight, I am able to catch up on thoughts and get my photos online. I have added links to my online photo albums where appropriate, so you might need to re-read an entry or two.
Dhaka Do's and Don'ts
*At any point, if you think "I wonder if my camera battery will die?", DO charge it, buy a back up, whatever is appropriate at the time.
*Unless you have a steely sense of "Whatever!", DO wear locally appropriate clothing
*DO Know how to roll up car windows at busy intersections
*DON'T go it alone
*DON'T go outside the boundaries, remember that you already are! (Chicken tikka is not the same the world over)
*Unless you have a steely sense of "Whatever!", DO wear locally appropriate clothing
*DO Know how to roll up car windows at busy intersections
*DON'T go it alone
*DON'T go outside the boundaries, remember that you already are! (Chicken tikka is not the same the world over)
I am a millionaire
I might even be a billionaire (although that is a stretch). The exchange rate here is about 69 taka to $1 US. 82.8% of the population lives on less than $2 US per day, that's about 140 taka (from the Lonely Planet guide). So, it's all very cheap to live here right? Well, yes, but everything is relative. As you know, Anne and I enjoyed pedicures yesterday. Those cost us 200 taka. That's $3 US. That's more than 82.8% of the population earns in a day. In the US, a comparable price for a pedicure would be about $127 (http://www.whitehouse.gov/fsbr/income.html). Sobering, isn't it?
This makes me wonder, what is socially conscious tourism? How do I balance the value that I perceive a good or service to have with the local perception. How do I particpiate in the tradition of haggling when I know the first price offered is far less than my own personal price barrier? How do I not haggle when it is clearly expected? Is it wrong to pay "too much"? Is it immoral to pay Dhaka street value when any item here could be resold in US for many times more? What is the difference between an EU citizen coming to US for shopping bargains and me enjoying even greater benefits here? Does it matter? I don't know the answers and I think they reflect my western guilt. They probably also reflect the fact that here, like no place I have ever been, the difference between the very poor and the (really only moderately) wealthy stands in stark contrast. I think my best path is to do what we westerners all seem to be doing - try to focus my spending at fair trade destinations and through NGOs that are working to slowly eradicate poverty and effect real change.
This makes me wonder, what is socially conscious tourism? How do I balance the value that I perceive a good or service to have with the local perception. How do I particpiate in the tradition of haggling when I know the first price offered is far less than my own personal price barrier? How do I not haggle when it is clearly expected? Is it wrong to pay "too much"? Is it immoral to pay Dhaka street value when any item here could be resold in US for many times more? What is the difference between an EU citizen coming to US for shopping bargains and me enjoying even greater benefits here? Does it matter? I don't know the answers and I think they reflect my western guilt. They probably also reflect the fact that here, like no place I have ever been, the difference between the very poor and the (really only moderately) wealthy stands in stark contrast. I think my best path is to do what we westerners all seem to be doing - try to focus my spending at fair trade destinations and through NGOs that are working to slowly eradicate poverty and effect real change.
Bangladesh is not a tourist destination
This is real travel. This is not for those who need to feel comfortable in their surroundings, for those who feel pick pocketing won't happen to them. You have to steel yourself against the sight of incredibly poor, and sometimes disfigured, people begging for pennies - actually fractions of US pennies. Honestly, you have to steel yourself at the sight of most upwardly mobile entrepreneurs in Old Dhaka. All of this can be incredibly disturbing. But, if you look closer you see the incredible life, spirit and culture that is here. The people here are welcoming and friendly. They are very proud of their country and their heritage. This is a country that has been able to maintain their culture (so far) in the face of technological development, an influx of foreign capital, and a tumultuous history. There are signs of hope - the open air schools in the seaport that educate children on break from their jobs; the state supported universities that charge no more than $5 US per month tuition; the many joint ventures advertised that help Bangladeshis develop their entrepreneurial economy. The people here are beautiful powerful and strong. It's easy to miss (for a westerner).
What would Anthony Bourdain do?
I am not sure, but Anne and I accepted (and ate) the small offering of nuts and raisins given to us by the pilgrims at the Star Mosque. Did I want to? Not really, and our companion on the guided tour did not (or not much, she had one then refused more). I was guided by many things - my overwhelming sense of politeness, my scant knowledge of Islamic culture, and the fact that these men allowed three women (2 in western dress) to enter their holy place. These were men from different places in the Islamic world, mostly Pakistan, who are on a 3 month journey to study, pray, and work with the local communities. They travel to mosque after mosque, spending an average of 3 days at each mosque. Our tour guide had been on 2 of these journeys. When he spoke of them he lit up with joy. To me, the small gesture of offering nuts and raisins spoke volumes about the true nature of Islam or any other religion.
No photos - this is after my camera battery died.
No photos - this is after my camera battery died.
You can't see rickshaws at night
I was not able to post anything yesterday because the internet was down. Apparently, there was a problem with the submarine cable that supplies Bangladesh. Yet another thing that is completely different.
Yesterday afternoon, Anne and I headed to a gift shop that is run by an NGO that promotes development in the rural communities of Bangladesh. The shop is called Aarong; the NGO is BRAC. http://www.brac.net/ It is a lovely shop that serves two purposes - it provides rural Bangladeshis access to the markets of Dhaka, and it is a convenient place for visitors to purchase gifts and souvenirs. The trip there and back was a typical drive in Dhaka, which is just plain crazy! There are some stories posted in separate entries.
All three of us (Anne, Sam, and I) had a bit of a break down after all this travel and sightseeing. So, we opted for a night in. That is quite easy to do in Dhaka, since there is not much in the way of nightlife.
Today, Anne and I took a tour of Old Dhaka. That was quite an experience. We are staying in Gulshan, which is new and where most foreigners live. Old Dhaka is pure Bangladesh. The crowds were small, which worked in our favor since we were only surrounded by locals just once on our trip. Once we entered old Dhaka, I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore. The electrical infrastructure is, quite literally, hanging from the awnings of shops and windows of apartments. The sea of rickshaws became an all-encompassing deluge. The density of people must have doubled. It was morning, so the numerous shopkeepers were setting up there shops. As we moved through the city, it was obvous that the merchants were divided into rough districts. Most of the fruit vendors were located in one area, electronics in another. The main product for sale seems to be fabric. There was a very large area devoted to fabric sales. Within that district, there seemed to be subdistricts that specialized on particular patterns and threads. Each shop was a cramped stall, with several stalls crammed into one building. There were countless alleys and sidestreets. We saw an amazing number of rickshaws which were carrying an amazing load of goods.
We also visited the main port of Bangladesh, Sadarghat. The water is low this time of year and it is "cold", so there were no throngs of swimmers, but there were throngs of boats. There were small wooden taxi boats and large vessels dedicated to transporting garment workers to Dhaka from remote villages downriver (more on that later). The port was tiny, packed, and crazy. But, the most impressive sight were the open air schools. These schools have been founded by charitable organizations to educate the many children who live and work in Dhaka. Children who work in nearby shops, factories, and the ships stop by these schools during their work break. It is very easy to underestimate how fundamental such efforts seem to be in changing some of the darker side of Bangladesh. Without education, these children would have very little chance of upward mobility. Anne knows a woman who has helped to deliver these programs in Dhaka. She reports that these childen, many around 10 years old, have made their way to Dhaka on their own and are creatively seeeking employment and survival. They possess an innate creativity and street smarts that could be put to fantastic use with some education.
The most striking thing about Old Dhaka is that it is clear that this area of the world is the crossroads of our modern economy. On our way to the area, we passed several garment factories. There are photos in the linked album. These clothes are all being made for export (check your labels, at least one item you own is probably from Bangladesh). The old center iteself is buzzing with activity to support the garment industry. In contrast, there is an entire district that is dedicated to recycling old clothing - most of which has been reclaimed from the west. Many of the clothes you drop in donation bins end up in places like this. They are sorted, with the best items sent to a factory to be refurbished and the rest sent to manufacturing plants to be used as rags. This is just a drop in the proberbial bucket of recycling here. On every corner you see a new example, people rummaging through garbage piles, rickshaws loaded down with old plastic bags and cardboard, shops filled with ancient ceiling fans. Even the cars are recycled! One could look down on this cycle and assume it is evidence of western imperialism, and maybe it is. To me it seems like we are at the point where the circle of life becomes a continuous cycle. The old comes in and the new comes out - perhaps in evidence more here than anywhere in the west.
Tonight, we went to a local restaurant. It was my first trip out on the roads of Dhaka. Thankfully, the river of cars had abated. But, the rickshaws were in full effect. Without lights, they formed and erie snake of life on the edges of the road. It was quite disconcerting.
This is trully a fascinating city. It is completely overwhelming, but also fascinating. I don't think this trip would be psychologically possible without Anne and Randy's comfortable home, their driver, and the cold Heineken in the refrigerator. There is some nice shopping too.
Yesterday afternoon, Anne and I headed to a gift shop that is run by an NGO that promotes development in the rural communities of Bangladesh. The shop is called Aarong; the NGO is BRAC. http://www.brac.net/ It is a lovely shop that serves two purposes - it provides rural Bangladeshis access to the markets of Dhaka, and it is a convenient place for visitors to purchase gifts and souvenirs. The trip there and back was a typical drive in Dhaka, which is just plain crazy! There are some stories posted in separate entries.
All three of us (Anne, Sam, and I) had a bit of a break down after all this travel and sightseeing. So, we opted for a night in. That is quite easy to do in Dhaka, since there is not much in the way of nightlife.
Today, Anne and I took a tour of Old Dhaka. That was quite an experience. We are staying in Gulshan, which is new and where most foreigners live. Old Dhaka is pure Bangladesh. The crowds were small, which worked in our favor since we were only surrounded by locals just once on our trip. Once we entered old Dhaka, I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore. The electrical infrastructure is, quite literally, hanging from the awnings of shops and windows of apartments. The sea of rickshaws became an all-encompassing deluge. The density of people must have doubled. It was morning, so the numerous shopkeepers were setting up there shops. As we moved through the city, it was obvous that the merchants were divided into rough districts. Most of the fruit vendors were located in one area, electronics in another. The main product for sale seems to be fabric. There was a very large area devoted to fabric sales. Within that district, there seemed to be subdistricts that specialized on particular patterns and threads. Each shop was a cramped stall, with several stalls crammed into one building. There were countless alleys and sidestreets. We saw an amazing number of rickshaws which were carrying an amazing load of goods.
We also visited the main port of Bangladesh, Sadarghat. The water is low this time of year and it is "cold", so there were no throngs of swimmers, but there were throngs of boats. There were small wooden taxi boats and large vessels dedicated to transporting garment workers to Dhaka from remote villages downriver (more on that later). The port was tiny, packed, and crazy. But, the most impressive sight were the open air schools. These schools have been founded by charitable organizations to educate the many children who live and work in Dhaka. Children who work in nearby shops, factories, and the ships stop by these schools during their work break. It is very easy to underestimate how fundamental such efforts seem to be in changing some of the darker side of Bangladesh. Without education, these children would have very little chance of upward mobility. Anne knows a woman who has helped to deliver these programs in Dhaka. She reports that these childen, many around 10 years old, have made their way to Dhaka on their own and are creatively seeeking employment and survival. They possess an innate creativity and street smarts that could be put to fantastic use with some education.
The most striking thing about Old Dhaka is that it is clear that this area of the world is the crossroads of our modern economy. On our way to the area, we passed several garment factories. There are photos in the linked album. These clothes are all being made for export (check your labels, at least one item you own is probably from Bangladesh). The old center iteself is buzzing with activity to support the garment industry. In contrast, there is an entire district that is dedicated to recycling old clothing - most of which has been reclaimed from the west. Many of the clothes you drop in donation bins end up in places like this. They are sorted, with the best items sent to a factory to be refurbished and the rest sent to manufacturing plants to be used as rags. This is just a drop in the proberbial bucket of recycling here. On every corner you see a new example, people rummaging through garbage piles, rickshaws loaded down with old plastic bags and cardboard, shops filled with ancient ceiling fans. Even the cars are recycled! One could look down on this cycle and assume it is evidence of western imperialism, and maybe it is. To me it seems like we are at the point where the circle of life becomes a continuous cycle. The old comes in and the new comes out - perhaps in evidence more here than anywhere in the west.
Tonight, we went to a local restaurant. It was my first trip out on the roads of Dhaka. Thankfully, the river of cars had abated. But, the rickshaws were in full effect. Without lights, they formed and erie snake of life on the edges of the road. It was quite disconcerting.
This is trully a fascinating city. It is completely overwhelming, but also fascinating. I don't think this trip would be psychologically possible without Anne and Randy's comfortable home, their driver, and the cold Heineken in the refrigerator. There is some nice shopping too.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
The White Devil Wears Knockoffs
Anne and I had our spa experience. It is amazing how very similar and different it is at the same time. The pedicures were performed in office chairs and with a minimum of water. The pedicures themselves were pretty much exactly the same as what you would get here.
The salon did have some very interesting hair procedures. One woman had what looked like mud smeared in her hair and was placed under a contraption that appeared to be steaming her head. It looked like an old school bonnet hair dryer, with a large vessel attached to the back. That vessel contained a liquid. The whole thing came out of the wall on an extending pole. After a couple of minutes, steam started pouring out. Another woman was having some type of dye applied to her hair. Her hair was sectioned off and carefully combed down long red plastic forms. They looked like slides. That procedure required 2 people to perform.
The biggest difference between a salon in the US and here is the atmosphere. Sure, it is a bit run down and funky by our standards. The biggest differencereally is no appointments, even for multiple procedures. There is also an air of being in the women's club. The women were not wearing their extra layers to hide their womany features and there was not even a hint of services for men. I have a feeling that it is a modern version of the women's quarters from the days when purdah was practiced widely. (Purdah is the practice keeping women inside and out of public view.) It didn't feel at all oppressive or backwards. The placed hummed with femine energy and rhythms.
Anne and I also received facials. That's me in the thumbnail. When you hear your facialist chopping cucumbers for the first time, you wonder if it is Bengali practice to eat lunch while the client relaxes under the steam!
TurkeyChicken
I may have altered the shape of Bengali pigeon-English. At our stop at the shopping center yesterday, there was a portable animal shop (I'd call it a pet shop, but you never know). They had several cages with birds, a couple of puppies, and 2 large birds wandering the parking lot. They look a heck of a lot like turkeys. Because I am occasionally completely stupid, I asked the driver, Harun, if they are turkeys. Why is that stupid? Well, with hindsight I now understand that turkeys are a uniquely north american bird and the Bengalis would have no word for it. Since I confused Harun, he ran over to the pet shop proprieter to ask. They discussed this for a short while and came to a conclusion. Harun informed us that these were TurkeyChickens, somewhat like a chicken and what they call murghi. Murghi just happens to be the bengali word for Chicken.
Monday, February 5, 2007
First morning
I realized this morning that there were so many things that I forgot to write about last night. I already feel like it was a very long post...
Anne and Randy's home is very comfortable. It is large, quiet and cool. From the outside, Dhaka looks like a crowded city with more people, buildings, and vehicles than anything else. From the side, Dhaka sounds like the jungle it used to be. There are many different bird calls and I think I heard a monkey. It is located in the diplomatic are of the city where everything is pretty new and caters to westerners. The neighborhood is called Gulshan. They are right across the street from the American Recreation Association. It is a sort of country club for ex-pats. Even in Gulshan, where the concentration of westerners is highest, we make quite a spectacle walking down the street.
This morning, Anne, Sam and I had breakfast at the ARA. Normally, they enter through the back gate which is steps from their house. Because they don't know Anne very well and I am a visitor, they asked us to go around to the front entrance. The back gate is manned only by security, where the front gate has a small office and someone who has the authority to let me in. Both gates are now also manned by armed guards - new since Anne was last here. We aren't sure if this is extra security because of the state of emergency.
We had to walk around the block to get to the front gate. For out entire time outside, we attracted quite a crowd. Many people came outside just to watch us talk with the back gate guard. On our way, we picked up a small parade of elementary students on break and attracted the stares of rickshaw drivers. Given the traffic patterns here, it's worrisome to think of them taking their eyes off the road! I had read a lot about the stares. Apparently, Bangladeshis are very curious and see westerners as a novelty. My guide book indicated that it can be frustrating and may feel invasive. So far, it relieves me of feeling bad about staring right back! I also have to think about what we must look like to them. We are parading around in our western clothes that aren't suited for the environment, have our western affectations, and are pushing a fancy stroller with copious amounts of mosquito netting. It is certainly a scene that could be in a modern day recreation of "Out of Africa" or some other colonial era movie. The equivalent would be a Rajah in a sedan chair being carried by servants through Market Square (in Portsmouth).
We are off to a spa visit, then more shopping. I have to admit that I am a bit apprehensive of the spa experience.
Food notes: Breakfast sausage here consists of ground beef and curry powder - which isn't as good as it sounds! I forced myself to eat everything on my plate. I left quite a bit of dinner behind last night and felt terribly guilty. Dinner was also at the ARA. The menu is mostly American style food. I ordered a bangladeshi style chicken meal. It was not nearly as spicy as I had feared - but it may have been tailored to their clientele's palette.
I am starting to play with Picassa photo albums. I have updated the post from Sunday to include a link. The ablum has only one photo. I still have to perfect the process, including photo rotation. I am re-learning how to use a Mac. I hope to have Randy give me some pointers tonight.
47 hours later
We arrived at Zia International Airport around 11:30 AM today, Monday February 5. Dhaka is 11 hours ahead of the east coast, so it was 12:30 AM in Portsmouth when we landed. We had to wait about an hour for the luggage to arrive and get out of the airport. So, my total travel time is 44 hours. That's pretty crazy.
The plane ride and arrival were uneventful. Sam did get a bit cranky about half way through the flight, but he gets a gold star for being so good for the majority of a very long journey. Our arrival was made easy by the presence of a travel expeditor. These are individuals who do everything for you, immigration, baggage, the works. We waited in the "VIP room #3" while our expeditor gathered our belongings. I might have liked to have experienced the full culture shock of trying to do that on my own. At the time I was a little disappointed. I think now that I am OK with it. In fact, I might even like it.
The first few minutes in town were spent on the short drive from the airport to Gulshan, the neighborhood where Anne and Randy live. The second most important Muslim pilgrimage (to Dhaka) is just finishing, so the streets are extra crowded. We saw millions of rickshaws, city buses with 20 people sitting ON TOP to catch their ride, and general traffic chaos. Either I am numb from lack of sleep, or I have spent enough time in countries that prepare me for such sights. Whatever the case, I was able to make it through the first drive without any major emotional trauma. In fact, it is much more stupefying to think about how long life has gone one here with very little change.
I tried to take some photos during the drive, but I decided I would get much more out of it if I sat back and watched. Amongst the many (many, many) rickshaws are 3-wheeled taxis, old beat up cars, buses, a few lexus-es, and pedestrians. The most impressive vehicle was a bicycle powered bamboo delivery wagon. I have a goal to get a good photo of one of those! In one of the many rivers (all of which form the mouths of the Ganges), there was a fish trap that consists of netting strung up on bamboo poles. It looked like the same technology they must have been using 1,000 years ago.
There is a pretty obvious police presence. There are some, the RAB, which are similar to our military police, that are enforcing the state of emergency. I have seen several bands of armed men in official looking uniforms of various styles (including an aqua-blue cammoflage pattern). I can only assume that they come from different branches of service. Speaking of local politics, there was a major arrest spree last night in which about 20 people were arrested from both major political parties. Apparently, about 8 of those arrested were fairly high ranking government officials. Anne and Randy's driver, Harun, tells us that their neighbor from across the street is no longer the Foriegn Minister! This is another step in a continuing saga. What matters right now is that things are very quiet on the streets.
Ah, the streets. Anne and I did venture out this afternoon. We arranged for some guided tours and shopped for pearls. This is when it all started to sink in. Our first stop was Guide Tours. The shopping center in which it is located is more similar to what you might have seen a millenia ago than to anything we think of as a shopping center. There are small stalls crammed into every possible corner. They are all clustered together by type of product. The ground level shops at this location were mostly electrical hardware supplies. It's fascinating and intimidating at the same time. I would have no idea how to shop here without significant help.
We also encountered my first hard core, medaeval style beggars. These women (they were all women so far), saw us from about a mile away and begged at every chance. From a westerners perspective, they seem to have no shame. Two used their children as a ploy to get money. One of those women even exposed her child to us so that we would have the full appreciation of her child's physical ailments. Anne caught that one. I was, fortunately, busy not looking in a very pointed and authoritative manner. Guess what? My attitude did nothing to get them to go away. The only thing that helped us was traffic clearing enough for us to motor on.
The pearl shopping was another amusing experience. At that shoppng center, there was a portable, streetside pet vendor that had puppies, birds, and "turkey-chickens". I think I helped the Bengalis name that bird. I asked if it was a turkey. They conferred and agreed that it was a turkey chicken. I have a feeling it was just a south asian breed of chicken.
The pearl shopping was an experience! You are expected to bargain which is hard when you have no idea of the real value of the item and you are so tired you can't calculate the change rate in your head. I left with the shop owner consternated (which is good!) and with no idea how much I had just spent.
The best thing about Bangladesh? Right now, it is the fact that we are such a novelty that everyone stares. With everyone staring at us, it is not rude for us to stare back!!!
I have to go. I am falling asleep between keystrokes. I hope to set up a page with uploaded photos in the next day or two.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Anonymous posts allowed
I have just updated the settings to allow anonymous posts. I didn't realize that the default was to block these. I think the risk of malicious commenters is low. If I am wrong, I will change it again.
Walking on the backs of the poor
...and we are darn grateful!
The trip is well underway! Anne, Sam, and I are at London Heathrow which is our home for most of February 4. The flight from Dulles was unevenful - quite an accomplishment with a 10 week old baby. Sam has been a rock solid angel the entire trip (so far). I think it helps that we can take advantage of the business class clubs. We are still spending a lot of time in airport limbo (more on that below), but being in a semi-selective area makes it much more comfortable.
Anne opted to check in as early as possible for our flight from Dulles. That turned out to be the best decision of the trip so far. At 1 pm, the airport was nearly empty. By 4 pm, it was a zoo. While waiting in the lounge, we met a gentleman who works for NATO as a part of the staff from The Netherlands. Obviously, he couldn't tell us much, but he works in communications and technical infrastructure and has been to both Iraq and Afganistan in the last two years. He was also amused by Anne's apology for feeding Sam in the lounge. They aren't so uptight about such things in The Netherlands. I think it help set her at ease for the rest of our trip. Also a good thing, given that it is a bit longer than expected.
Our arrival here at Heathrow was quite pleasant. The security staff were quick to note that Sam was asleep and opted for a manual search. The woman who conducted it was grandmotherly - and I think she enjoyed the fact that Anne and I are still pretty slow at gathering up all the bags, coats, shoes, and everything else that is neccessary for traveling with an infant. She spent more time cooing than searching! The next very pleasant person was the agent at the tranfer counter who informed us that the flight to Dhaka is delayed until around 6:00 pm. Our original flight time was around 10:00 am! The chronic winter fog in Dhaka is playing havoc on the flights, it appears. We've both decided that staying a few extra hours in Heathrow is better than being diverted to Kolcata (the fate of one of the flights this past week). I may have jinxed us, since I was so concerned about having a schedule that would avoid potential missed connections and many hours in Heathrow. I spent most of a day here in 2o01 due to a missed connection. I can say that being in the business class lounge makes a great deal of difference.
I should put in a plug for British Airways here. Despite the fact that the delay is weather related and we get to enjoy unlimited refreshments in the lounge, we each have a voucher for £15.00. Everyone has been very, very nice. That is much more than I can say about some US carriers that need not be named - I have already had the satisfaction of watching them go out of business.
It is now 1:15pm here, so we are on the same side of the meridian as our flight. We've spent most of our time in the lounge. This is not so much to protect us from the huddled masses in Terminal 3, but to protect them from us. We did take a walk earlier. Being addled from sleep deprivation, we bumbled through the terminal aimlessly. There are a few times that Sam may have been in real danger of being smashed into walls! (I should note that, technically, the stroller in which Sam was riding would have been smashed, not Sam himself.) During our time here, we have caught up (a bit) on sleep; discussed the benefits of trying to beat jet lag and adjust to London time (decided that was a no); and we have had time to reflect on the fact that the one time of year the weather is condusive to visit Bangladesh is the one time of year the weather makes it really hard to get there!!
So, we spend 12 hours in the luxurious settings of the business class lounge. At first I felt a bit guilty at the extra attention and care. Now, I do not. I am just very, very grateful!
Photos:
The trip is well underway! Anne, Sam, and I are at London Heathrow which is our home for most of February 4. The flight from Dulles was unevenful - quite an accomplishment with a 10 week old baby. Sam has been a rock solid angel the entire trip (so far). I think it helps that we can take advantage of the business class clubs. We are still spending a lot of time in airport limbo (more on that below), but being in a semi-selective area makes it much more comfortable.
Anne opted to check in as early as possible for our flight from Dulles. That turned out to be the best decision of the trip so far. At 1 pm, the airport was nearly empty. By 4 pm, it was a zoo. While waiting in the lounge, we met a gentleman who works for NATO as a part of the staff from The Netherlands. Obviously, he couldn't tell us much, but he works in communications and technical infrastructure and has been to both Iraq and Afganistan in the last two years. He was also amused by Anne's apology for feeding Sam in the lounge. They aren't so uptight about such things in The Netherlands. I think it help set her at ease for the rest of our trip. Also a good thing, given that it is a bit longer than expected.
Our arrival here at Heathrow was quite pleasant. The security staff were quick to note that Sam was asleep and opted for a manual search. The woman who conducted it was grandmotherly - and I think she enjoyed the fact that Anne and I are still pretty slow at gathering up all the bags, coats, shoes, and everything else that is neccessary for traveling with an infant. She spent more time cooing than searching! The next very pleasant person was the agent at the tranfer counter who informed us that the flight to Dhaka is delayed until around 6:00 pm. Our original flight time was around 10:00 am! The chronic winter fog in Dhaka is playing havoc on the flights, it appears. We've both decided that staying a few extra hours in Heathrow is better than being diverted to Kolcata (the fate of one of the flights this past week). I may have jinxed us, since I was so concerned about having a schedule that would avoid potential missed connections and many hours in Heathrow. I spent most of a day here in 2o01 due to a missed connection. I can say that being in the business class lounge makes a great deal of difference.
I should put in a plug for British Airways here. Despite the fact that the delay is weather related and we get to enjoy unlimited refreshments in the lounge, we each have a voucher for £15.00. Everyone has been very, very nice. That is much more than I can say about some US carriers that need not be named - I have already had the satisfaction of watching them go out of business.
It is now 1:15pm here, so we are on the same side of the meridian as our flight. We've spent most of our time in the lounge. This is not so much to protect us from the huddled masses in Terminal 3, but to protect them from us. We did take a walk earlier. Being addled from sleep deprivation, we bumbled through the terminal aimlessly. There are a few times that Sam may have been in real danger of being smashed into walls! (I should note that, technically, the stroller in which Sam was riding would have been smashed, not Sam himself.) During our time here, we have caught up (a bit) on sleep; discussed the benefits of trying to beat jet lag and adjust to London time (decided that was a no); and we have had time to reflect on the fact that the one time of year the weather is condusive to visit Bangladesh is the one time of year the weather makes it really hard to get there!!
So, we spend 12 hours in the luxurious settings of the business class lounge. At first I felt a bit guilty at the extra attention and care. Now, I do not. I am just very, very grateful!
Photos:
Friday, February 2, 2007
And so it begins...
A journey of 5,000 miles begins with one step...
I haven't left home just yet, but Rich and Dotti have left for the ski house. That marks the last moment of my normal life and the start of my journey. After a lovely last supper at Anneke Jans, I am now facing the trip ahead and wondering what fate has in store for me. It feels like I am entering the void. Like I am taking a giant step into the unknown and into a world that will change me forever.
I might also wonder what, if anything, fate has to do with the circumstances that befall a middle class American girl when she leaves her world and goes to Bangladesh. That is the void I shall fill in 2 short days. In the meantime, I will be busy on planes, trains, and buses and also documenting Sammy J's first world tour. Don't worry grandparents, I will take lots of pictures!
I haven't left home just yet, but Rich and Dotti have left for the ski house. That marks the last moment of my normal life and the start of my journey. After a lovely last supper at Anneke Jans, I am now facing the trip ahead and wondering what fate has in store for me. It feels like I am entering the void. Like I am taking a giant step into the unknown and into a world that will change me forever.
I might also wonder what, if anything, fate has to do with the circumstances that befall a middle class American girl when she leaves her world and goes to Bangladesh. That is the void I shall fill in 2 short days. In the meantime, I will be busy on planes, trains, and buses and also documenting Sammy J's first world tour. Don't worry grandparents, I will take lots of pictures!
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