Last weekend in Dhaka

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July 13th 2008

Published: July 13th 2008

Day 47, July 13, 2008

It’s kind of surprising that it’s my 47th day in Bangladesh. It actually does feel that long, I suppose, because I feel very settled here. I think I stopped writing as frequently because the everyday things I experience are generally not very new and exciting as they once were. I have a much different perception of everything now. Perhaps I am more callous, I’m not sure. If I’ve developed any character trait, it’s the ability to feel fine in the most bizarre and uncomfortable situations because they seem to arise pretty frequently. I have a better ability to differentiate between when I should be cautious in a situation, when I am unsafe, and when I’m completely fine and just uncomfortable. I also have a better understanding of what it means to be in poverty and what it means to be in extreme poverty. There is more of a distinct difference than I ever realized. There is not extreme poverty in the West and there are both in Bangladesh.
But anyway, so this past weekend was my last weekend in Dhaka. An American university student from Harvard, Jo, started working at ICDDR,B two weeks ago and it was well-timed because she’s become a great exploring-Dhaka and getting-lunch buddy. Actually on Friday, I went to a salon on my street and got manicures with my friend, SoJin. It’s not really something I’m into back in the States, but it was a nice treat, good girl time, and significantly cheaper than back home (a manicure at a nice place costs about US$5). I think I’m going to go back next week the day before I leave and go all out. I think my skin could use some professional exfoliating and my feet some severe scrubbing. After the manicure, we went to a social welfare handicraft shop nearby because I realized I need to start buying some things to bring home with me. Later on, I did some more shopping with Jo at another fair trade Bangladeshi store and I think I got some good things to bring back home.
I also decided that I really should not stay in Gulshan during my last weekend, even though it’s so easy to do. So Jo and I took a nice long CNG ride down to New Market, which is one of the biggest (the biggest?) bazaars in Dhaka. The market is massive. Like most markets, it’s open-air and divided up into sections of different wares. There wasn’t much worth buying for us because it’s geared toward the average Bangladeshi (those things are relatively cheap in cost and quality). It was interesting to just walk around though. It was loud and crowded despite it being a Friday and everyone was trying to solicit their wares to us in severely broken English. The best part was coming across an indoor part of the market that was damp, foul-smelling, and virtually unlit. Within two steps inside it was obviously a huge food section. It was actually a good time because people are so proud of what they have to sell and most Bangladeshis absolutely love having their pictures taken. In the fish section, rows upon rows of various fish were spread out. One man excitedly came up to us and wanted to show us his fish, which were many eel-like catfish squirming around each other in wide tin saucers. All the guys told me they’re completely delicious. Another man asked if we could take a picture of him with his hanging meat carcasses and goat hearts. It certainly wasn’t the most sanitary, but it was interesting and entertaining how excited all the vendors were to show off their products to us. Even the women, who still remain rather demure behind their large baskets of rice, spices, and produce would quietly ask if we could take a picture of them, too? The whole weekend was also enjoyable because for the first time in awhile, I spent most of my time in places where no one spoke English and I didn’t have Luke with me so I got to practice my Bengali much more. (If Luke is with me, people will almost always only speak to him.) We ended up buying a couple of pomegranates and some longans (little, round, white tropical fruits that you peel and suck on) but that’s it. Leaving the market, like going any long distance, was a pain. Everyone is just always constantly trying to rip us off. It took getting into little arguments with several CNG drivers before I got a decent price.
So anyway, after New Market, we went and got haircuts by a Thai woman who has a little room on the roof of a high-rise in Banani. I told her one inch and the same hairstyle, which isn’t at all what she did, but I’m happy with it. Haha short hair is easier to deal with anyway…At night there was yet another birthday party, so I went bowling with a bunch of friends. The place was completely unmarked and completely bizarre. I think perhaps because they serve beer and hard liquor, which is a pretty taboo thing to do in Bangladesh. So out of 12 lanes, one appeared to be functioning but we had a good time and played some pool, as well. It all reaffirmed my complete lack of bowling talent. Between games, I asked one of the workers if he’d show me around and he asked if I wanted to see the discotheque. I said of course. Then he led me down this dark, windy fake rock cave (I’m not kidding), which opened up into a decently sized banquet hall with a stage for a DJ. He showed me the flyer of when they have music playing and if I were in Dhaka longer, I’d completely go back for that.
Saturday I slept in and then went down to Old Dhaka with Jo and SoJin because I still hadn’t been to the river that Dhaka was originally settled along. We got to the port all right and didn’t have a lot of trouble finding someone who would take us out on the water. We’re obviously not the first white people who have journeyed all the way down there to hire a small fishing boat. One man told me he’d take us out for 500Tk. I said 50, he said, okay, 100. Nothing signals getting ripped off like dropping your price 400Tk in the first round of bargaining…I said no, 50Tk and walked away since there were numerous other boats just sitting around. He obviously came running after me saying fine, 50Tk. I then heard him bragging to the men around us that he got us to pay 50Tk each, which is not what happened and I knew hassling would continue. It’s such a pain. Being watched by a crowd of about 50 Bangladeshi men, we climbed into the flat wooden boat and he paddled us down to the Pink Palace, which is right on the waterfront and is a couple of hundred years old. It lives up to its name and is a large palace that is completely covered in one bright shade of pink. People do love color here. Floating down the river was a very worthwhile experience and surprisingly relaxing. It’s such a shame how disgustingly polluted the water is. Sewage and industrial waste is pumped straight into it. To watch little kids swimming and playing in it, taking in big gulps of murky water, is genuinely upsetting. It makes it not so surprising that the cholera wards at ICDDR,B are overfilled. Anyway, so the monsoon started up and so we ended our ride, at which point the boatman proclaimed that I had agreed to pay 50Tk per person. I made a scene about how he was ripping me off since we weren’t even on the water for the full half hour and I agreed to 50Tk for all of us and so with the help of some Bangladeshi guys around me, ended up paying 100Tk, which is fine.
After the boating, we decided to try and find Hindu Street, which probably the most incredible street in Dhaka but impossible to find since the roads in Old Dhaka are twisty, narrow, and unnamed. We never ended up finding it because no one in Old Dhaka really seemed to know where it was or exactly what I was looking for. Everyone I asked for help was extremely friendly and helpful, though. I think much more so than in other parts of Dhaka. Various people would walk along with us for awhile, telling us where to turn, etc. If we asked to take pictures or look in some factory or house, everyone more than obliged. When the rain really kicked in, a couple of guys let us come into their tiny two-table restaurant to stay dry. The condition of the restaurant was asking for a gut infection so we couldn’t eat but they didn’t care. After half an hour we decided to head out despite the rain and they absolutely refused the 10Tk I tried to give them in thanks for the shelter. Following the latest directions based on me repeating I was looking for Hindus and doing the nomoshkar hand clasp, we ended up at a Hindu temple, which wasn’t at all what we were looking for. I finally asked a woman where I could buy seashell bangles because those are made on Hindu Street and she said it was very far. The streets were starting to flood so we gave up and picked up a CNG back to Gulshan for dry clothes, TV, and sushi. It was interesting to have gone to places like New Market and Old Dhaka at the beginning of my trip and at the end because my impressions were so different. I realize that Dhaka has grown on me a lot. Sometimes I complain and sometimes I just don’t want to be here another hour longer, but other times I know I’m going to be a little sad to leave.

Last weekend in Dhaka

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