Bangladesh Part II

Here are an assortment of pictures and adventures from Bangladesh.

I am having some issues with the formatting so all the text is before the photos. I will try to fi it. 

1) This is an average windshield of the average taxi. A usual drive to school meant getting into one of the most dilapidated vehicles you've ever seen, that is until the next day. 

Turns out after a 45 minute commute to school this day the door I was leaning on (heavily) was held together and attached to the car by a strand of thin bailing wire. Imagine that thing you wrap the top of a bread bag with and you get the idea. Ignorance is truly bliss. 

2) These are the guys who fed me breakfast every morning. It was a local tea shop by my flat. They were hard working, interested and always smiling. I am not sure they had ever seen a picture of themselves, so taking photos was a blast. 

3) This is one of the classrooms I visited and gave a little lesson to. The students were so excited they could barely contain themselves. 

Surviving Bangladesh Driving

Although this is not a great series of video you get the idea driving is not a something that lengthens your life in Bangladesh. Usually you are going 100 + Kph and traffic is three times as heavy. But taking a picture is not your priority when you are counting your blessings. 

Bangladesh part I

My first two impressions of Bangladesh were its driving and it crush of humanity. So many people packed so closely. At least in Dhaka, I'd never experienced such a flux of people. It was overwhelming but exciting. As I grew to know and understand the country, the crush of humanity became the realization of the reality of life for people who work so hard to eek out a living. It occurred to me when people are competing for such a small niche, the ebb and flow of life is so much different than what I am accustomed to. Even those people who earn a good living, Bangladeshi terms, still has to live with the understanding everything can change at a moments time. 
The driving... I considered each ride in the car potentially my last. Seriously. I ended up getting used to it, but the first few days I could not look out the front window. As I grew more accustomed to the way people drove, I realized there was actually a system and it worked. I am not sure how or why, but it worked. Narrowly missing head-on collisions at 100 kph was the norm, but no one seemed to collide. 

My next realization soon came when I visited the first school. I was humbled and impressed. Students were eager to learn and, despite the lack of resources, fancy classrooms and all the things we grow accustomed to in the US, these students were learning a great deal and truly impressive in the their will and understanding of the value of education. 

The teachers were also impressive because of their ability to teach so effectively with so little. They nearly volunteered their time considering their pay, but they made difference. 

Clueless in Bangladesh

Clueless in Bangladesh. 

If searching for adventure is what I want, I signed up for the right thing. I am sitting here wondering what the next two weeks has in store. 

Think of the Peace Corps for teachers.

Remind me that I did sign up for an adventure….

So I am in Bangladesh, and I really mean in Bangladesh. I thought Dhaka was a new experience, but Rajandupur is up there.

Last night, or shall I say early this morning I arrived in Dhaka. I was  quite possibly in the slowest customs line in the history of Bangladesh. While I was standing there seeing everyone but myself moving I was convinced the whole of Dhaka was pilfering my bags. Terrible I know, but the thought crossed my mind in a foreign country, with no clue what  I was headed into and no idea what customs was truly like. I managed to get through the line and alas, in what I was to discover was true Bangali form, the bags were simply taking laps on the belt. I was comforted to know I was at least going to be clothed while being clueless in Bangladesh.

I loaded the cart and aimlessly wandered. I suddenly found myself on the flip side of declarations. Apparently, much like other third world locations, if you are breathing and carrying a bag, you have nothing to declare. I then looked hopefully for one of those annoying signs you see at the airport and always think under your breath, “what kind of dumb ass needs an escort to greet them at the airport?” Alas, in vain. I looked, but only Mr. Lee, Mr. Shu and Mr. Yutao were being escorted from the airport. In addition to being left alone at 2 am in Bangladesh, I forgot to change money on the customs side of the airport check. Suddenly I realized I was alone in Bangladesh with no money. Real smart super traveler. I asked where the money changer was and smiles abounded. I tried to re-enter the customs entry and Johnny Customs guy with a gun looked at me in a serious way. I suddenly realized how calm I was. Seriously. I had to look around and pat myself on the back. Had Amy been with me I would have been worried, had I a bit of common sense and I would have been worried. Claim it as jet lag, the spirit of adventure, or resignation, but I was cool with the idea of having no money, no escort and no clue. An achieved revelation. 

Just then I saw the IREX sign through the next pain of glass. Apparently Mr. Lee and Mr. Shu had higher clearance escorts than I did. I dutifully pushed my cart through the door and met the man who would become my Bangladeshi mother.

“Hello, Anwar.”

“Hello Mr. Josh”

So began the courtship.

By the time I finished shaking his hand, he had my cart, both bags over his shoulders and was asking me about what I thought of Bangladesh. Meanwhile the email from IREX was scanning across my vision clarifying for the fiftieth time, “make sure you change your money immediately because the host teacher will insist on paying for everything”

“Anwar, is there a place to change money?”

“Yes, yes, tomorrow you change money… No problem.”

I was already feeling the Jedi / Bangladeshi mind tricks. “yes, yes, I will pay for everything and tell you we will take care of it later.” I was not going to fall into the trap of being hospitalitied into being a total mooch. 

Meanwhile, and unknown to me, there was another soul about to be sucked into the Bangladeshi netherworld.

“Have you seen Richard?” Anwar asked.

Considering I was the last person in the customs line I thought it was clear. I did scope out a few “westerners” in line, but they all seemed to have the “I know where I am”  attitude. But then I remembered a guy in line who had a similarly clueless but what to look like I know where I am look. I peered through the glass at customs and indeed, it was clear who Richard was. 

He had taken up my location and mindset of five minutes ago: He was in the same place I was when I realized I had no money, no clue and no ideas.

I told my new mother I would go get him.

Going to the door, I gave a good shout “RI-Chard!” His response was the same mine was. A smile and realization he was not alone at 2 AM in the Bangladeshi airport. 

So there we were, headed to destination unknown, in the back of a van with Richard from the school district I graduated from and Anwar, my soon to be worry wart.

We arrived at the somewhat creepy hotel / residence run by the largest NGO in Bangladesh, BRAC. Imagine an office building with a dozen hotel rooms tucked in between the cubicles.

After checking in, thinking of the duty free scotch I smuggled in, a good stint of CNN and 10 hours of sleep Anwar announced he would be staying with me. Ok, I’m cool with that, the guy picked me up at 2 in the morning for cripes sake. I was truly not tired, since I managed way too much sleep on board the plane, so I was worried my escort was going to be held up by me. After assuring me I could keep the light on to read and fifteen minutes passed he bolted up and said, “I do not think you will be ok. There is no commode!” I read that Bangladeshis call Western toilets commodes. What an odd word. Anwar was convinced he was making a grave mistake taking me with him. I assured him I had indeed used an “Indian” style toilet before. It was going to be ok. “Oh, no. There are not furnishings like this [moderately priced] hotel room.” I could tell he was nervous. I assured him everything would be just fine. Five minutes later he was snoring. It was nearly three am and he had classes to teach at 8.

By 7:30 he was rousted and convincing me I could not find the breakfast room, therefore he must stay. I assured him I was going to make it to breakfast and off he went to class. He told me he would arrive at 1, he knocked at my door at nearly three.

I made it to breakfast ok, even without Anwar’s help and I was introduced to the Bangla way of holding a conversation for much longer than it needed to be. The day had just began and the adventure had already begun. 

Oh Boy, Oh Bangladesh

Just over a month ago I was invited to Bangladesh as a part of the IREX international exchange I applied for over a year ago. I did not make the "first" cut and had originally applied for Azerbaijan. After a phone call in January, some frantic planning, added pages in my passport, flight arranging and visa applications I was making plans to head to a school outside of Dhaka. If trying to contact my contact in Bangladesh was any indication of what is yet to come I am anticipating the need to be flexible, but that is one of the "fun" things of travel. He keeps telling me "yes, yes no problem, you worry when you get here." Not sure when I should worry, but there is nothing I can do now. 

So here I am waiting for my flight to Dhaka in the Hong Kong airport. I am taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi internet because I am pretty sure internet access will be limited in Bangladesh. Who knows, I am waiting to be surprised. I managed to sleep much of the flight across the Pacific, not sure if I was exhausted, but I was out a good chunk of the way. Considering the flight left at noon US time, I am surprised I was able to pretend it was the time to sleep. 

I am off into the unknown and unsure what to expect. I am expecting the unexpected and looking forward to the experience. It is significantly different than traveling for fun or the Japan experience where I was a "guest" of the Japanese government and told what to do, what to wear and where to go at every second of the trip. This is more like: here is your ticket, here is your contact, write a report when you get back. Sounds like fun. 

I feel like I over-packed simply because I have no ideas what to expect, in terms of weather, dress for school, what to wear, what not to wear. Flexibility apparently means bring everything. Oh well. I am ready for anything. I am anxious about Bangladesh. There are a few places on the planet I know little about, at least the basics, Bangladesh is one of them. I've been reading up and preparing myself for a place unaccustomed to tourists. It sounds like it can be overwhelming and unbelievable at the same time. 

Ok I am off to catch the flight to Dhaka and into the unknown. 

What an adventure.