What Bangladesh Taught Me

How very nice it is to have enough hot water to be able to wash my body and my hair AND shave my legs and all that without having to wait 45 minutes for the geezer if somebody has showered before me.

Never, ever forget my iPod when I get into a car in Dhaka, even if I am only going 0.4 miles.

Next time I shop for pvc fittings make sure they're "strong and glossy"!

Back In Bangladesh

After ten months of silence I'm back.

What prompted this revival? If you think it's to announce that the work is done and we're moved into our flat in Delhi you'd be miserably wrong. The work is still not done and I am still living out of a suitcase at the in-laws' (which itself could be the subject of a whole new blog, but I won't go there...) while incompetent laborers continue to wreak havoc.

That's basically why I haven't written for months. I would only go off on a rant about how the plumber didn't install the fixtures straight then proceeded to (for almost 15 minutes - I stood there in amazement and watched him) push on it then stand back and stare at it like he expected it to magically straighten itself or about how the tile-wallahs have an uncanny ability to place the chipped tiles in the most highly visible location (in fact that's about the only ability they do have) or how the painter managed to paint an entire room the wrong color (apparently the idea to verify the color against the sample that was sitting there did not occur to him).

Nope, I just came from a wonderful yoga retreat last weekend and I am trying to maintain a feeling of vairagyam - detachment - so I'm picking up the story on a positive note: Bangladesh.

I was last in Bangladesh in 2009. On this, my third, visit traffic has grown worse even than Delhi traffic. It took us over 3 hours to drive the 8.7 miles (distance verified on google maps) from the airport to the Pan Pacific Sonargaon. Out of frustration or rage or I don't know what Dhaka drivers have taken to going as fast as they possibly can any time a gap of over 8 feet opens up in traffic - only to come to a standstill for another 18 minutes before moving again. Makes for some fleeting moments of excitement in the hours of waiting.

Sitting in traffic gave me lots of time to observe the scenery. Buses seem slightly less battered than last time, the electric lines look like even more of a fire hazard than ever, fewer colorful bicycle rickshaws on the roads but more 3-wheelers with cage-like doors to protect driver and riders, and the movie posters don't have the same fluorescent luridness as I remember them having last time but people are still hanging bunches of plastic grapes from their rearview mirrors!

Unfortunately, as I pick up this post after several days in Dhaka, I wasn't able to take any fishing boat tours or lounge in the luxury of another century at a beautiful tea garden in Sylhet. Nope, this time I got to sit in lots of traffic, got sick, got to take care of RG when he got sick, got to experience a hartal (strike organized by the opposition party) but that was relatively mild - just one handmade bomb explosion and 10 buses burnt - and nursed RG again when he stumbled and hit his head on the thermostat as a result of which he now looks like Raging Bull. Oh, and I felt an earthquake.

We're leaving early so I'll have to find more exciting stories on our next trip.