4/28/13
Early day today. I got to the embassy and was blocked from entering for having a camera. Understandable but he expected me to put it in my car, the one I don't have, or go home and come back without it, i.e. another 45 minutes would be wasted walking in intolerable heat. All this was infuriating to hear when you're already upset. Why couldn't he have just asked for me to try fitting it in the locker? Or disassemble it and then put it in (alright, maybe this one was a stretch)? So I got through and met up with Cindy, a friend of an Aussie I met the second night. She got me sorted with all of the paperwork and everything else I needed to do. I went back home to book an appointment online and to grab the police report that I forgot (too scatterbrained these days).
Since my appointment wasn't till 13:15, I went back to Banani to sort out the card reader. I must have looked strange to the people in the street as I walked back and forth trying to remember where I had bought it. When I got there, they told me my it was my memory card that was the issue and not the reader. Of course I didn't take their word for it and made them exchange it. I ran to an Internet cafe to check the new one out and discovered it had a crooked pin. This did not help convince me it was a memory card issue. I ran back down to have them fix the pin and then back up to the cafe. Now I must seem strange to those in the cafe too. Oh well. "Keep calm and chive on," right? The computer still prompted for the card to be formatted before use. So this meant it would not be easy to extract my photos. By now, I should stop expecting for things to come easily in Bangladesh. Okay, so whoever came up with troubleshooting online, thank you! I ran a "chkdsk" in command prompt and got "raw drive." I looked this up online and found I could extract the .RAR files using a software. However, this software was not compatible with the computer's operating system, so I would have to wait to borrow someone else's. Sigh. No picture taking for today.
Time to get back to the embassy but of course after a quick bite. I went back to the corner stand I had the potato puffs and bought a naan and singara. It's always so nice to see familiar faces. Thinking I might be late, I caught a cycle rickshaw only to be stopped half way by the traffic police. I guess I'm just not meant to ride anything in this country alone. So I sprinted the rest of the way, except when I had to cross the street lol. I was late but I should have realized that it wouldn't matter. Bangladesh runs on Asian time, so lateness is expected. When my name got called, the lady told me I didn't have an appointment on file so an officer wouldn't be able to help me today. Panic! What?! Then I explained that my passport had been stolen and I couldn't bear waiting another day for it to be processed. So more waiting to see if an officer is willing to see me today. Luckily, he did and he was the nicest guy there. You could tell he was actually listening to and not just hearing your problem. Sometimes that's all we really want, isn't it: someone to lend an ear and heart. Jack then laid out the options for me: I could get a limited passport the next day or wait a max of two weeks for the full one. I asked so many questions that I think I managed to confuse myself in the process. I opted for the full one thinking I could only exchange the limited one back in the states. After realizing this was not the case after I looked it up later, I called the next morning to switch it.
I had began looking at traveling options in the country and they all seemed to reach a complication. Everywhere is surrounded by political unrest for one, so it's unsafe to travel alone. Even if I decided to go alone, I would need a passport and permit to go hiking in Chittagong. It's low season for the Sundarbans National Park so a low frequency of tours, which is imperative for the tiger watching. Which leaves Sylhet. At least this makes choosing easier.
So here's a question for all those out there: is it unethical to take a picture of someone sleeping on the streets if they are half bare? I saw some people sleeping in an alley way and wanted to take a picture to show how thin they were. I felt horrible at the thought. Is this a reaction to their social conditions, the thought of personal violation, or my inability to do anything or change their situation? Or all of the above in some immeasurable percentage?
Monday, April 29, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Disparity
4/27/2013
Another hot day on this side of the world with temperatures reaching the high 30's or around 100 F. The day was uneventful until I met these locals at lunch, whom spoke rather good English. I told him my story and got the best comment came out of the shopkeeper: "it's too bad that you lost your passport but now you can stay in Bangladesh forever." "Hahaha, that's funny," said no one, ever! I got a good laugh anyways and got ripped on for eating my food with a spoon rather than my hands. Oddly, it wasn't the lukewarm food that bothered me but the chilled, not cold, coke. This comment was followed by a lesson on the difference between a samosa and singara, which the former seems to be used unanimously in the states though the latter was the companion to my meal that I has mistaken as the former. Though they took off earlier, I caught them standing outside after I had finished. I found out they both work for a Taiwanese garment factory in Gulshan. Sumon isn't particularly fond of his post and is looking to start a business of his own. So if anyone is looking to invest in one, I have a local contact for you. He graduated from the American National University of Bangladesh if this helps in your decision making lol.
Sumon ended up being my guide for the remainder of the afternoon after his colleague returned to work. He took me to Bashundhara city shopping center to find a bag. He knew one of the owners so we stopped there. Even though it wasn't exactly the size or price I was aiming for, I felt like I had to get it. It's bad to refuse a kind gesture. In the shop, the owner also sold belts. Here I got another lesson on Bangladesh versus Chinese products. The bag I had bought was imported from China as were many of the belts and wallets. He confirmed that though Bagali quality of leather surpasses the Chinese, the style of the belt, especially the buckle, will make the sale. Due to the lower quality, Chinese belts actually go for cheaper than the local made ones. Business venture anyone?
Before he headed back to work as well, I introduced him to Clare, another CS that arrived at Chris' last night. She's doing a research internship here for two months. We went shopping for three pieces together. I found out on our walk back that she had taught English in Busan the same year I was there, only a month staggered. Small world everyone!
So to add the grand finale to the day, the card reader I had bought the other day, decided to either erase or not read the pictures on my CF card. Really, really, can this trip get any worse?
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| The shopkeeper |
Before he headed back to work as well, I introduced him to Clare, another CS that arrived at Chris' last night. She's doing a research internship here for two months. We went shopping for three pieces together. I found out on our walk back that she had taught English in Busan the same year I was there, only a month staggered. Small world everyone!
So to add the grand finale to the day, the card reader I had bought the other day, decided to either erase or not read the pictures on my CF card. Really, really, can this trip get any worse?
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| A local market frequented by as many flies as people. Would you buy one of these pumpkin slices? |
Friday, April 26, 2013
Old Dhaka
4/26/2013
So one Aussie, Mike, made it out after last night. We went to Old Dhaka as planned. It started off with a ride on the most putrid river. It was an unsettling black color filled with rotting material like watermelons. Still you could see people lifting buckets of it and rinsing themselves off.
Afterwards we wandered the bazaars, played cricket in the streets, had lunch, thirst breaks, and checked out the Pink Palace before the heat got to us. On our way to the palace, Mike's friend called and said there were car bombings in the city center so it was safer where we were. They were probably triggered by the Rana building incident. Later I learned from Chris's roommates that the crowd was quickly diffused with rubber bullets and tear gas. On their way home, the streets were empty except for three green rickshaws, aka CNG. They had never seen it in that state in the several months they've been here. Considering Bangladesh is the most densely populated country, I doubt it rarely ever is. For all of those that inquired about my well-being, thank you. Besides suffering from some nasty mosquito bites, I am safe and well. As for my dear passport, I do fear it is lost forever as there has been no news today and no returned call from the US Embassy.
So one Aussie, Mike, made it out after last night. We went to Old Dhaka as planned. It started off with a ride on the most putrid river. It was an unsettling black color filled with rotting material like watermelons. Still you could see people lifting buckets of it and rinsing themselves off.
Afterwards we wandered the bazaars, played cricket in the streets, had lunch, thirst breaks, and checked out the Pink Palace before the heat got to us. On our way to the palace, Mike's friend called and said there were car bombings in the city center so it was safer where we were. They were probably triggered by the Rana building incident. Later I learned from Chris's roommates that the crowd was quickly diffused with rubber bullets and tear gas. On their way home, the streets were empty except for three green rickshaws, aka CNG. They had never seen it in that state in the several months they've been here. Considering Bangladesh is the most densely populated country, I doubt it rarely ever is. For all of those that inquired about my well-being, thank you. Besides suffering from some nasty mosquito bites, I am safe and well. As for my dear passport, I do fear it is lost forever as there has been no news today and no returned call from the US Embassy.
Shocker
4/25/2013
So I woke up this morning thinking I had to charge my IPhone 3GS. When I reached into my jacket pocket, I knew my day was not going to begin well. I had stowed my charger and earphones in my left jacket pocket to use during my long transit in Jeddah. In my right jacket pocket, there should have been my passport (where I had zippered it after getting through immigration) and a bunch of napkins I stashed (since no Asians countries provide tp in the restrooms). I you've haven't guessed it already, yes, everything was taken, even the seemingly worthless napkins. Panic was my first reaction. I checked my surroundings and other places I normally store my passport. Nothing. I walked out of my room defeated and announced with my jacket still in my hand that my passport had been stolen. My host's initial reaction was to laugh because he thought I was kidding, like how could so many absurd things happen to me. After I rummaged through everything again when he asked if I was sure, I confirmed the horror. He and his three housemates (Elsa, Nick and Ben) began discussing my options. I would first go and ask the guards downstairs if they remembered anything about the driver from the night before, bringing along their cook to translate. The next course of
action would be to head to my embassy, which ended up being closed. Lastly, I should try getting help from Elsa's police contact, Seldon (not just any police since you won't get help unless you know someone). So I went to the station alone after reaching the inspector on the phone beforehand and filled out a 'Lost News' form. I told him how I had gotten stopped in Mirpur and if he could try contacting them for a license plate. He also called his US Embassy friend to see if I could go in today. No luck since they were 'closed for some reason' for a Thursday (Fridays and Saturdays are the country's weekend days where everyone has off). I finished and headed out hoping to get an email or call though my chances seem slim.
After chilling for a bit back at my host's, I mustered all my courage to head back out, fueled with Chris's encouragement and his guided map. I walked down his suggested path for about the third time today towards the markets. One noticeable population in the streets are men. They're everywhere lol. No wonder I kept getting awkward stares. However, I walked as though I was a force to be reckoned with and seriously considered punching the next nuisance cab driver, haha. Along the way, I heard a familiar language behind me. Of course I would find Chinese people here. We chatted about how it was possible my passport got stolen, scarves, quality textiles here versus China (though Bangladesh apparently has no style), and skin color standards. He concluded that it's okay to be black since it's a sign of leisure in the states, but I should be more careful and perhaps get some sunnies. How could I not crack a smile by now? After failing to convince me that I should hire a driver for my duration here and confirming that I didn't need further escort, we turned in differing directions.
Feeling more at ease, I began searching for things on my misc to buy list like the iPhone charger that always seems to be running from me. I'm very glad to have came out again. I met the locals who thoroughly enjoyed getting their photos taken, which was quite a contrast to other Asian countries who will just say no. In fact, if I took a pic of one stall, the next one would want one too and it domino effect to the exit. Getting peckish, I found a food stall with guys stuffing potatoes into bread and then frying them. This was paired with a side of curry, which was mutton. Lucky for me, they had a vegetarian one in the back. They were just as excited for me to take photos of their work. It was then I could feel my travel bug dig deeper into my skin. I sat and had five of the chilli potato-stuffed puffs with some curry. That was when a local asked me their infamous question 'are you married'. Though I knew it would be more convenient to answer 'yes', I said 'no' challengingly and continued to enjoy my meal. Joyously, I walked out after finishing my 40 cents meal to catch then making naan. Okay, so Bangladesh isn't bad after all.
On my swift walk home, I saw a non-local walking and we exchanged good evenings. Then I asked if he was Australian. Yep, a Mike from Adelaide. A quick intro and I found myself detouring from home to the Australian Club. When you are with Aussies, it's always beer o'clock. Considering it was Anzac Day, it meant more the reason to get pissed, aka drunk. Hmmmm, how did my days go from one extreme to the other? I told them my story and they deemed it unbelievable, so I became CIA for the rest of the night. Bloody Aussies; gotta love 'em. So if I miraculously get my passport back before next week, I'm invited to white water raft in Nepal. As for tomorrow, Old Dhaka. Let's see how many of the four Aussies looking to go actually wake up :).
So I woke up this morning thinking I had to charge my IPhone 3GS. When I reached into my jacket pocket, I knew my day was not going to begin well. I had stowed my charger and earphones in my left jacket pocket to use during my long transit in Jeddah. In my right jacket pocket, there should have been my passport (where I had zippered it after getting through immigration) and a bunch of napkins I stashed (since no Asians countries provide tp in the restrooms). I you've haven't guessed it already, yes, everything was taken, even the seemingly worthless napkins. Panic was my first reaction. I checked my surroundings and other places I normally store my passport. Nothing. I walked out of my room defeated and announced with my jacket still in my hand that my passport had been stolen. My host's initial reaction was to laugh because he thought I was kidding, like how could so many absurd things happen to me. After I rummaged through everything again when he asked if I was sure, I confirmed the horror. He and his three housemates (Elsa, Nick and Ben) began discussing my options. I would first go and ask the guards downstairs if they remembered anything about the driver from the night before, bringing along their cook to translate. The next course of
 |
| A bit of flooding on the road to the embassy. |
action would be to head to my embassy, which ended up being closed. Lastly, I should try getting help from Elsa's police contact, Seldon (not just any police since you won't get help unless you know someone). So I went to the station alone after reaching the inspector on the phone beforehand and filled out a 'Lost News' form. I told him how I had gotten stopped in Mirpur and if he could try contacting them for a license plate. He also called his US Embassy friend to see if I could go in today. No luck since they were 'closed for some reason' for a Thursday (Fridays and Saturdays are the country's weekend days where everyone has off). I finished and headed out hoping to get an email or call though my chances seem slim.
After chilling for a bit back at my host's, I mustered all my courage to head back out, fueled with Chris's encouragement and his guided map. I walked down his suggested path for about the third time today towards the markets. One noticeable population in the streets are men. They're everywhere lol. No wonder I kept getting awkward stares. However, I walked as though I was a force to be reckoned with and seriously considered punching the next nuisance cab driver, haha. Along the way, I heard a familiar language behind me. Of course I would find Chinese people here. We chatted about how it was possible my passport got stolen, scarves, quality textiles here versus China (though Bangladesh apparently has no style), and skin color standards. He concluded that it's okay to be black since it's a sign of leisure in the states, but I should be more careful and perhaps get some sunnies. How could I not crack a smile by now? After failing to convince me that I should hire a driver for my duration here and confirming that I didn't need further escort, we turned in differing directions.
Feeling more at ease, I began searching for things on my misc to buy list like the iPhone charger that always seems to be running from me. I'm very glad to have came out again. I met the locals who thoroughly enjoyed getting their photos taken, which was quite a contrast to other Asian countries who will just say no. In fact, if I took a pic of one stall, the next one would want one too and it domino effect to the exit. Getting peckish, I found a food stall with guys stuffing potatoes into bread and then frying them. This was paired with a side of curry, which was mutton. Lucky for me, they had a vegetarian one in the back. They were just as excited for me to take photos of their work. It was then I could feel my travel bug dig deeper into my skin. I sat and had five of the chilli potato-stuffed puffs with some curry. That was when a local asked me their infamous question 'are you married'. Though I knew it would be more convenient to answer 'yes', I said 'no' challengingly and continued to enjoy my meal. Joyously, I walked out after finishing my 40 cents meal to catch then making naan. Okay, so Bangladesh isn't bad after all.
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| My curry and potato chab. |
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| In good company: Nicole, Andrew, and Mike. |
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Force Majeure
4/24/2013
Do you think the words 'adventure' and 'danger' are interconnected? They definitely happened to be when I arrived in Dhaka, Bangladesh. All seemed to be in disarray as I continued to remember things that I had forgotten to pack on the multiple flights to Dhaka. Perhaps this already signified a poor start. Having been delayed in Jeddah and Dammam where the plane had to return for one passenger's passport and carry-on (didn't even know you could do that), I was anxious to find a rickshaw after waiting over an hour at the
world's slowest baggage claim. In Asia, I knew I would be bombarded by people requesting you to take their taxi. Dhaka was no different. This particular driver convinced me to take a cab with him rather than the rickshaw for the same price. He seemed to know the location I requested better than the rickshaw driver so I went with him. I didn't know how long the ride should have taken but sensed it was taking far too long after two hours. The guy appeared lost and stopped the car to speak on the phone for what appeared to be directions. This was another hint that something was wrong. I repeated the address several times while showing it to him on my iPhone to hear him repeat it to the phone incorrectly all times but the last. He got back in drove around, stopped again, called again, and came too close for comfort to my door where he was yelling in Bangladesh and I back in English. Then he apparently wanted his money though I was nowhere near my location. I got out with my stuff to try and ask another driver (didn't trust leaving it in the car). This time he shoved me back into the car with my large backpack on. I landed non-gracefully back in the seat reeled. I struggled back out with my stuff and start yelling vehemently. Some people driving by stopped to see the spectacle, including a van full of cops or military personnel. They convinced me that it was only a misunderstanding because the driver couldn't speak any English. They reassured me that he would now drive to my location with the translated directions they gave him and noted his licence plate. I still didn't trust the driver especially since I found the red wine that I had bought for my host was somehow under his seat. Since I didn't have much say in this, I got back into the cab hoping perhaps the bottle had rolled out driving along the uneven roads. After getting to my CS host's place, he began to complain to the security outside about everywhere he had to drive me and wanted 2000 tak versus the 200 agreed upon amount at the airport. To add more insult to injury, he tried to steal these two large chocolate bars I had brought as another gift to my host, thinking I wouldn't see as he blatantly pulled then out of my duty free bag when he helped unload my stuff from the backseat. It only confirms my previous suspicions. The guards ended up calling my host down. I explained what happened and he talked to the guy and said we would give him 400 since it was his own fault for taking the incorrect route and call it a night. I didn't have much change so ended up giving him 500 instead, which of course he wasn't satisfied with. We turned our back on him but heard a knock on the door several minutes later. Chris, my host, went to check and came back saying that was the guards, who were even appalled at what happened. This isn't a normal occurrence, so just my luck. The security guys had even punched the guy for speaking in the attitude he did. It may even be that he gets more where that came from after my host told them about the wine part of the story. So Bangladesh? Good or bad choice. At the moment, it seems like the worst choice of them all because there's a lot of political unrest at the moment and its surrounded by India. Which means my plan of taking a bus to Nepal from here needs to have an additional visa to India or another flight. Sigh! It can only get better now, right?
Do you think the words 'adventure' and 'danger' are interconnected? They definitely happened to be when I arrived in Dhaka, Bangladesh. All seemed to be in disarray as I continued to remember things that I had forgotten to pack on the multiple flights to Dhaka. Perhaps this already signified a poor start. Having been delayed in Jeddah and Dammam where the plane had to return for one passenger's passport and carry-on (didn't even know you could do that), I was anxious to find a rickshaw after waiting over an hour at the
 |
| View from Jeddah Airport. |
world's slowest baggage claim. In Asia, I knew I would be bombarded by people requesting you to take their taxi. Dhaka was no different. This particular driver convinced me to take a cab with him rather than the rickshaw for the same price. He seemed to know the location I requested better than the rickshaw driver so I went with him. I didn't know how long the ride should have taken but sensed it was taking far too long after two hours. The guy appeared lost and stopped the car to speak on the phone for what appeared to be directions. This was another hint that something was wrong. I repeated the address several times while showing it to him on my iPhone to hear him repeat it to the phone incorrectly all times but the last. He got back in drove around, stopped again, called again, and came too close for comfort to my door where he was yelling in Bangladesh and I back in English. Then he apparently wanted his money though I was nowhere near my location. I got out with my stuff to try and ask another driver (didn't trust leaving it in the car). This time he shoved me back into the car with my large backpack on. I landed non-gracefully back in the seat reeled. I struggled back out with my stuff and start yelling vehemently. Some people driving by stopped to see the spectacle, including a van full of cops or military personnel. They convinced me that it was only a misunderstanding because the driver couldn't speak any English. They reassured me that he would now drive to my location with the translated directions they gave him and noted his licence plate. I still didn't trust the driver especially since I found the red wine that I had bought for my host was somehow under his seat. Since I didn't have much say in this, I got back into the cab hoping perhaps the bottle had rolled out driving along the uneven roads. After getting to my CS host's place, he began to complain to the security outside about everywhere he had to drive me and wanted 2000 tak versus the 200 agreed upon amount at the airport. To add more insult to injury, he tried to steal these two large chocolate bars I had brought as another gift to my host, thinking I wouldn't see as he blatantly pulled then out of my duty free bag when he helped unload my stuff from the backseat. It only confirms my previous suspicions. The guards ended up calling my host down. I explained what happened and he talked to the guy and said we would give him 400 since it was his own fault for taking the incorrect route and call it a night. I didn't have much change so ended up giving him 500 instead, which of course he wasn't satisfied with. We turned our back on him but heard a knock on the door several minutes later. Chris, my host, went to check and came back saying that was the guards, who were even appalled at what happened. This isn't a normal occurrence, so just my luck. The security guys had even punched the guy for speaking in the attitude he did. It may even be that he gets more where that came from after my host told them about the wine part of the story. So Bangladesh? Good or bad choice. At the moment, it seems like the worst choice of them all because there's a lot of political unrest at the moment and its surrounded by India. Which means my plan of taking a bus to Nepal from here needs to have an additional visa to India or another flight. Sigh! It can only get better now, right?
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