Superbowl in Dhaka

There are not many holidays to make you feel American abroad. Officially, there is  the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving. But the unofficial one is Superbowl Sunday. I could make a very strong argument that the Monday after should be given as a day off. But who would listen to me?

Of course, there are logistical challenges overseas. The main one? Time difference. In Dhaka, kick off time was 6:30AM. So forget about the crappy quality of the Internet transmission. Instead of having beer and chicken wings you need to settle for breakfast and instant coffee. That's a huge sacrifice, to go without the two traditional Superbowl staples.

I thought for sure no one would be crazy enough to watch the Superbowl at the American Club. But , was I wrong. Never underestimate the determination of Americans! With the television playing a low-quality Slingbox broadcast, we sure as heck make for a compelling argument to declare Monday a day of rest.

Blurry eyed and sleepy I rolled into the office.

An Yankee island in Dhaka- The American club

As I have been writing, Dhaka is not the easiest place to live. There are all sorts of reasons to it, but bottom line with the lack of green spaces, Dhaka badly needs a refuge. And it’s called the American Club. 

There are all sorts of expat clubs. The Brits have one. And so do the Germans. The Nordics bundled themselves together and set aside differences between Danish, Finns and Swedes and formed a Nordic club. Canadians have one too, aye?

But for now, I’ll just stick with MY club, the American one. When we first arrived here, we thought we died and gone to heaven. I had never belonged to a private club before in my life. Rows upon rows of blooming flowers. Green grass in the otherwise brown and dry climate, stretching over a city of dust and rubble. Ladies in two piece swimming suites in country where they are fresh meat on the street if they do not cover themselves, even in the raging-hot summer temperatures.

The American Club: a place where an American can be an American. It has tennis courts, a gym, and a pool. And, more importantly, their menu includes hamburgers and fries, macaroni and cheese, a weekly barbecue, and seasonal pumpkin pie. Nachos, tacos, Cheetos and Doritos  It does not get more American then this. And don't forget the drinks, the alcohol! In a country where alcohol was not permitted, the club has Happy Hours. And that’s right – all prices are in dollars, so you know how much money you are spending.
For my fellow Americans, the Club is a refuge in times of deepest, darkest depression – and rightly so. It is the only place to feel normal – sort of (because the mosquitoes and bad air, sadly, did not park themselves outside the Club’s door). It is the only place to serve the kind of food that is so bad for you and your health, but tastes so yummy. You might not imagine they would be so hard to come by on the mean streets of Dhaka, but of course you would be wrong. 

Laying in the sun by the pool on a Saturday afternoon reading a book on my Kindle with a beer in the other hand, it suddenly made sense to me why mom's dishes tasted so good even when they were burned.