All you need is love!!!

Dhaka is classified as a "hardship" post. It does not take long for somebody to figure out why: seas of people, limited or no infrastructure, hit or miss medical care, contaminated water and food, so on and so on.

On the plus side (and this much I learned lately, there is always a plus side), there are things here that make your life easier. The main one? The affordable domestic labor. 
But this week, we came to learn how totally dependent we became on household staff, and how completely our world can fall apart without them.

Our beloved housekeeper found out she is now part of a love triangle and she would like to go back to the village to patch things up with the soon to be husband. We gladly accepted a leave request for a month. After all, what doesn't a man do for love, even if is not his? But quickly realized how used to her we are. We will have to hire someone else part-time in the interim, until the love of her life gets reeled back in.

So we have this circle of dependence in our lives. There are days where we would imagine ourselves back in Michigan, where we could drive everywhere ourselves, drink and wash our vegetables in the tap water and the floor would not need constant moping for the ever present dust.

My Bangladeshi cultural dilema

It takes a bit until you get used to the Dhaka’s busy streets scattered with random piles of waste being picked at by people, dogs and crow. It takes a bit to get used to the smells in the heat of the summer. Within such an environment, one can find it difficult to relax and enjoy the food.

The fact is that Bangladeshis believe that eating with the hand is a more natural, purer way to consume food. Metallic silverware taints the taste. I can buy the argument, even though I can't entirely ditch the fork and knife. I had my encounters with Ethiopian food in the U.S., but here I find myself in a big cultural dilemma. In Bangladesh, as a Muslim country, it is imperative to eat with the right hand, never the left, since the left hand is used when one goes to the restroom.

My issue? I have always been a lefty and growing up they had to put my left hand in cast in cast in order for me to learn writing with my right. When I eat here with my hands, I either make a complete mess by trying to use my right or I am violating all Bangladeshi rules of etiquette by using my left one.

My lovely Dhaka

I am reading the introduction of Dhaka on Lonely Planet.

“We can’t guarantee you’ll fall for Dhaka’s many charms, but sooner or later you will start to move to its beat, and when that happens Dhaka stops being a terrifying ride and starts becoming a cauldron of art and intellect, passion and poverty, love and hate. Whatever happens, this is one fairground ride you’ll never forget”

Does it get any cheesier then that? Any attempt to sum up this city falls short. Dhaka cannot be summed up in a single phrase. Dhaka is a hard city to like. And even harder city to live in. Dhaka is noisy, there is construction everywhere and cars honk constantly. Cars do not signal, rickshaws do not signal, buses with people spilling out of windows and doors and scores of people on the roof do not even think of signaling. Even if they did, most of them have no lights. Two-lane streets turn into four or five.

Dhaka is dirty. Trash lines up on the side of the road. Lakes are filled with debris. The air is heavy with dust and smoke, and blue skies are really hard to come by because of the smog. My lungs feel like I am smoking a pack of Marlboro red a day.

Dhaka is fascinating, confusing, curious, and friendly. Dhaka is full of colors and never boring or dull. I never felt more welcomed anywhere else before. And my rudimentary knowledge of Bangla is met with never ending praise.

But with each passing day, Dhaka becomes more enjoyable. I work hard to like this city and it is paying off now. It will be hard living somewhere else, somewhere where streets are clean, sidewalks exists, and you can walk.

Our life in Dhaka is in no way representative of what life is like for the majority of the population. We have incredible privileges in the city, while most of the population lives on a couple of dollar a day. Dealing with the guilt does not come naturally. You can try to be generous, but what you can offer is only a drop in a bucket and it’s hard not to get discouraged. It's especially heart breaking when it comes to street children.

On plus side, it is impossible not to be grateful when you come home to a bottle of clean water or cold beer and a fridge full of food.

Oh, Dhaka!!!! You’re not so horrible after all.

Welcome to Miami!

This past weekend we took a day trip to Comilla, with side trips to ruins at Mainamoti.


I just have to share one of our pit stops. Yeah, that's right, beat that!
Miami, right here, in Bangladesh.

 

The other entrance to the “leisure spot” was even more amusing.

So, how was it?

Not quite like this, but my point is, it was sunny, 85 degrees, so who needs Florida, when you can find Miami right here? 

We did not try the restaurant, so can't vouch on hygienic it was. A clean bathroom and a photo op is pretty much all that counts.