New Market and Sonargaon

I feel as though I could describe almost every weekend the same way during my time here in Bangladesh; really amazing, but super exhausting. I guess that is a sign of a day well spent though, if when you get hom its all you can do to stay standing for a shower before falling into bed. 

This weekend was a good use of this phrase, as pretty much every min was non-stop action. Thursday night is the end of the workweek here and that in of itself left me pretty beet by the time I sauntered home at 7pm Thursday (normally I leave at 4:30 / 5, but that day I just had a little extra work).  When I got home one of my new room mates decided she needed some groceries…and help getting to and from the grocery store. So even though I have showed her the same area of town 3 times already, I went to help her not get lost, and walked back the exact same way I had just come from and helped her get the groceries she needed and decipher what she could and could not eat.

Someone before she arrived had told her she should not eat anything with milk/cream or ice in it…they failed to mention that applied to street food, and milk in a carton from the grocery store is really just fine to have.

Soon after our arrival home however, another room mate of ours informed us of a few of our friends meeting at the Nordic club for dinner and things. We decided to go, so it was a quick rinse off of Dhaka dirt, into a clean salwar, and off to hang with the Europeans.  It was a nice evening, but my foot had started hurting me pretty bad during the past few days and by the time we got to the club I wasn’t too sure how I was going to get home again it hurt so bad.  No idea why it has started having so much pain…maybe too much walking on arch-less shoes, but with the heat and wetness in Dhaka, tennis shoes aren’t really the most enticing piece of apparel.  I got home by 11:30 that night, called my sister for a happy birthday greeting, then went straight to bed.

Dhaka

The next day was Friday, the day I go to church here. The whole apartment and another friend wanted to come this week, so that was a bit overwhelming trying to get 3 extra people into the American club where it meets, but it was fun in the end. Church was from 10-11:30 ish, and then we usually stay around and have lunch there with some of the people we meet, and other young people there. It is always quite nice. Today we couldn’t dilly-dally too long after lunch however as we had plans to go to new market.

This is a market place in Dhaka that sells everything you could ever want, but really specializes in cloth, fabric and 3piece salwar kameez, also jewelry and shoes. It’s a REALLY fun place. Totally overwhelming, and probably the most crowded place in all of Dhaka (that is really saying something too), but I really like it. Mostly I think I like shopping and getting good deals so maybe that is why, but I also enjoy this sort of shopping where you have piles and piles of stuff stacked taller than you, all bright glittery fabrics and more cloth hanging from the ceiling blocking your view.  Its not easy way to shop or get things done, but it makes me happy I think because it reminds me so much of growing up in Yemen, and Jamal st. or Bab al Yemen. 

  

FUSHKA!

We wandered around there for a few hours, I had taken some new girls along with me to show them around, and to help them get some clothes. I think they were pretty overwhelmed with all the choices, but I was pretty impressed with what they ended up purchasing. In the midst of our shopping while we were lost in the maze of shops it started pouring rain, we didn’t realize till we emerged to a full blown monsoon coming down. They still needed to get a few more things, so I sent them on their ways together, and I took off across the st to a little roadside food place. I saw they had the bags of some puffed rice ball things that all the tell tale sign of the place selling Fushka, my new fav food. Its basically like a big hollow puff of crunchy something that you fill with a spicy potato mixture, top with some cucumbers and other green veggies, then smother with a spicy tomato mixture/sauce. 

Pop it into your mouth and enjoy the crunchy spicy deliciousness.

I went into the shop that was packed with people hiding from the torrents of rain coming down and ordered a plate of the Fushka and a sprite, the lunch of champions. The cost:  60taka = 75 cents.  It was delicious and I really felt pretty cool hanging with the locals who were all consuming similar snacks, and pretending like I belonged there. It was nice being alone for a bit to (even though I was squished in like a sardine with people on all 4 sides, eating while standing), to get a break from the ever loud and talkative westerners I’m with, who just draw so much attention, and don’t make too much effort to blend. I am much taller and much blonder than either of the two girls I was with, but I think they were the one that bring the most attention. It’s amazing what knowing just a few words in a language and dressing culturally appropriate do for the blending factor. People still seem confused by me, but they are always delighted when I communicate in Bangla, and they still look at me pass on the road wondering who the weird white person dressed like a Bangladeshi is, but I realized this week that I much prefer the confused and perplexed looks and questions I get, opposed to the pointing, laughing and snarky attitudes I get when I go places with these other people who only use English and never dress appropriately.

Street-side Guava you can buy and dip in salt, chili powder,
or a mustard/chili mixture.

Some of the girls told me they were SO impressed by how good I was at bargaining, and how I had so many friends even down at the circle where I do all my shopping to help me get good deals. I had to tell them, the only reason I have good bargaining skills is because I took the time to learn the number in Bangla, so I can communicate the price I want, as opposed to the one they type me on their calculators. Plus you bust out a tiny bit of Bangla, and you instantly become a non-tourist which means, non-tourist price. They didn’t seem too interested in acquiring that talent however…guess they figured they can just use me.

Anyways, we got home soon after that once we had to pay a little extra for a CNG driver (always harder to get one in the rain since everyone wants them too, you cant play good bargaining games cuz they know they will get paid by someone else).  We were all pretty sopping wet when we got back, and I was pretty over listening to these two very talkative girls go on and on about senseless things, so when they said they wanted to go down to the circle to get their fabric sewn by my tailor I finally put my foot down, told them where he was and his rate, and sent them on their way to figure it out themselves.  I think it is good for them to get a little life experience without a tour guide.  That night after a nice steamy hot shower with a natural loofa I found at the market (they wanted 30 for it, but when I asked a lady who was walking away just as I came what she paid, she told me 20, so I got the local price), then a home made dinner of a makeshift pizza (oh man…so good), and an then settling down to watch Hugo (also a very cute movie) I was a very happy camper.

I stayed up a little too late that night after the movie, cleaning my room and preparing for the next day (Ill get to it), and didn’t get to bed until midnight again.

The next day was a trip to Sonargaon, a kind of deserted town about 30K south east of Dhaka that has a lot of ruins of an old city from like the 1300/1400, when it was the capital of Bangladesh and the center of trade for this area. I had let a few people know that I wanted to go, and that I was setting up renting a car, but before you know it, 7 other people wanted to come, so we needed to find a bus instead. It was kind of more of an ordeal than anticipated getting a vehicle as pretty much ever foreigner in Dhaka has a car and driver so I thought it would be more simple to find one. Finally my roommate Kristin got ahold of someone and everything fell into place at 7pm Friday evening, and we were leaving 8am Saturday morning.

The Group!

So we were all up and ready to go nice and early that morning and everyone congregated at our apartment and all squished in to the bus (8 seater fitting 9) and drove the 2 hours through the Dhaka traffic the 30K to the town. It was pretty fun, and I enjoyed it. They key to my day was separating as much as possible from the big group and taking it slow with one or two of the more calm interns. It was a beautiful place, and really fun to see some of the ruins and things. It was also fun to get out of Dhaka again and see some more of the countryside and get some green.

 

We saw a museum thing in an old weaver shop place, then walked down some roads that were all deserted ruins, made a wrong turn and found the village that weaves fishing nets and rope on super long loom things and they stretch string a good 200m, then we also went and saw the fake taj mahal that they have re-constructed here in Bangladesh. It was pretty funny and crazy to see this big old pink building poking up in the middle of nowhere.

It was supposed to be a really rainy day, but thankfully it was a beautiful sunny day for the whole time until we drove back into Dhaka.  We got home around 6pm or so, got a shower, took a really quick nap, had a little dinner, watched the Help again (love), called home for a little bit and only went to bed when the power went out, cutting the conversation short. Again to bed at around 12…I need to figure out a way to get to bed earlier when I need to be up for work at 7 the next morning, 7 hours should be enough for most people, but for me, Its just enough to make me function in super sleepy mode all day. 

Taj Mahal!!!
(sort of)