Wait, you are THE guy who loves it here, aren't you?

We went to a party this last weekend and met a number of new people. As I extended my arm for a handshake, one of them exclaimed:

"Wait, I know you! You are THE guy who is happy to be here, are you not? I know you from Facebook."Needless to say, neither Cristina or I could resist to burst into a good laugh.

Yes, it is true, I am THE guy and here is why.

Dhaka, where we live, is the world’s least liveable city in the world, according to the Economist. The study assesses cities around the world to determine which provide the best or worst living conditions. Factors are measured, within five categories: stability, healthcare, culture and environment, education and infrastructure. The world’s top city, Melbourne, scores 100 for healthcare; Dhaka scores 29.2.

And right now, as I write in May 2013, we are experiencing the worst political unrest and violence since the 1971 Liberation War.

There is a lot to hate. The traffic, the noise, the traffic, the traffic, the pollution, the traffic, the traffic, the crowds, the beggars, the traffic, the chaos, the traffic…but most of all, the lack of freedom. The lack of freedom to drive yourself, to walk, to do what you want when you want, to wear what you want, to be anonymous.

Yet I am loving. And so are the kids. And Cristina is reluctantly coming along.

Most of it comes from our luck to be extroverts. We don’t wait for friends to come to us, we go out and find them. I am sure that somewhere out there in Dhaka there are people who will soon become our friends even if they do not know it yet. There are people who in a few weeks will become important in our new life, who have so much to teach us, to share with us, as did so many of others over the years and in different places.

And of course, we did make friends. In large numbers. Friends in social groups, in sports groups, in ethnic groups, in work groups, friends that overlap in several groups. We have also kept in touch with our friends from abroad and we e-mail and Skype regularly. Additionally, there are my virtual friends, alas you, my gentle readers.

For all of Dhaka’s drawbacks and shortcomings and third worldisms, our experience with the people here is just the opposite. A lot of time, my connection and communication is reduced to facial articulations and smiles. You can be down in one of the poorest countries in the world, along roads fraught with pot holes and sewage, lined with garbage and waste and animal carcasses  in a country where the average annual income is less than what we might make in a day here at home, and none of that matters. The only thing that matters is our connections, to ourselves and our communities. What we might view as poverty and despicable living conditions is nothing more than a backdrop to the movie scene of our or someone else’s life. Such day to day luxuries are just that: luxuries. What makes us is our connections. And hard work or working hard is just a little bit different here than other parts of the world.

Am I a “better” person for having lived in Dhaka? No, I am probably not. But I am a lot wiser. I am more appreciative. I am more reflective of all things that we define as ‘life’. But more than all of that, I am reminded that basic things like happiness and comfort do not derive from anything tangible. Happiness can be found anywhere. In any condition. And that a smile can go a long way.

One does not need to come to Dhaka to get the life-check that it gives us. I hope just reading this gives you a moment of reflection on our fortunate and privileged lives.