Week 54: Showing off Bangladesh in Chennai (seeing the three biggest cities not named New Delhi)

54th-1st in Kolkata 9/10

Last night was not so much fun, I was having stomach issues. This led to me not eating very much during the day. Despite still being queasy this morning, I still headed out to see the Victoria Memorial. I had seen it last night lit up, but it was much more spectacular when I saw it in the daylight today.

The memorial was gorgeous, startling. Inside I felt queasy and had to sit down several times. Light headed and sick. But I enjoyed the exhibits very much, a very well done museum. One of my favorite parts of the museum was the initiatives the British made to learn Bengali. They wrote the first Bengali-English dictionary. (pics: Victoria Memoria and the reflecting pool, Victoria Memorial in Kolkata)
















A great surprise was to meet the family again from the ticket booking office. I saw them outside the museum, and we had a photo session on the steps, and then down at the bench in the gardens. The little girl stole my camera, and her father’s camera, and tested both out while I chatted with her dad. (pics: myself and my friend, the girl and her father, the girl took this photo of her father and I, stealing her father's camera)






























On the way to the airport, there was a major jam, and the hot taxi did not make me feel any better. While waiting for the airplane, I started feeling increasing nausea. Got on the plane, and then just as we left the gate, and came to the end of the runway, I threw up. I had to use two airplane bags. It was the worst moment of all my time in Asia. I had never felt so horrible. However the place it ended up happening was quite good for storytelling. I had a schedule to keep though, and I was not stalling in Kolkata by recovering. It needed to plow through, and just deal with it. Its times like these that I thank my rowing career, as I feel it taught me to feel uncomfortable all the time in all types of situations. So this was just one more thing to get through.
I had asked the steward earlier if I could have a blanket, but as this was Spice Air, a budget airline (one of the many in India), they had none. Well after I threw up, I held the airplane bags in front of me until the plane had reached altitude, and I could unbuckle and carry the bags to the bathroom and dump them out. The stewardess back there saw me, shivering and carrying my bags. She offered me one of the sportcoats that the stewardesses wear as part of their uniform. I sat in the back row of the airplane, as it was a bit warmer from the front, and shivered. She then brought me another sportcoat of her coworker, and I wrapped that over my head. She brought me hot tea which she delivered under a napkin. Explained that they don’t offer hot beverages on the plane although they can still make them, and she had made it secretly. Lastly she brought me a tomato sandwich for free which would typically have to be bought. So there I sat, huddled under bright red Spice Jet women’s sportcoats, nibbling a sandwich and sipping a tea. I didn’t throw up again, but I still felt sick.

Arriving in Chennai, as our plane had left a bit late, I was worried I might miss my train, leaving in the nighttime to Tiruchirappalli. When I landed, despite my sickness, I hurried to baggage claim, and went to the prepaid taxi counter. They said the train station was 45 minutes away, and I still had time to make it. Got in the taxi, we were off, almost across all of Chennai to the train station on the north side of the city.
I got there in time luckily, and found my train car, and got into my seat. The man next to me however told me that the seat I was in was also his, and I had to move. I showed the guy my ticket with the seat number printed on it. He then showed me his with my seat number written in pen on the back of his ticket. I felt I trumped his scribble with my actual ticket, and refused to move. He left the train, and came back insisting again I was in his seat, but I insisted this was my seat. He didn’t speak much English, and I spoke zero Tamil, so we left it at that.
We all arranged our beds just as the train started, unhooking the bunks from the ceiling, and went to bed. As this my first time riding in a train in India, and the lowest class at that, I was nervous about my luggage. The guy across from me sensed this and urged me through hand signals to use my big bag as a pillow. I had already wrapped my backpack around my legs.
Later that night, about an hour into the trip, I was woken up by a train conductor. Standing around him were several other passengers. He had a passenger list in hand, and asked for my ticket. He then told me I was in the wrong bed, and had to move. I was in bed 63, and I was supposed to be in bed 79. Tiredly, and still sick, I moved to a bed a bit down the train, and resettled in. From what I could tell, everyone was getting shifted, but in my tiredness, I might not have realized that it was probably just me. (Postscript: I realized on later trains that they post a passenger list outside of each cabin before the train leaves. On this, any changes in your seat or bed are listed. Thus, I was likely shifted and hadn’t known to check the list beforehand. On a later trip I had also been shifted and checked and then had this epiphany.) (pics: train arriving at the platform in Chennai, three-tiered bunks in second class)




















54th-2nd in Tiruchirappalli 9/11

I arrived in Tiruchirappalli just after the sun rose. The train had arrived an hour later than it was supposed to. I had booked a hotel near the train station, and was able to walk there when I arrived. Although a bit expensive, I couldn’t find any other open rooms in the cheaper hotels. When I got in the room I slept for 3 more hours. I ate a banana before going to bed, my first real food since being sick. The later arrival by train had worked out well, because the hotel had a strict 24 hour checkout policy. So by checking in later, I got to check out later the next morning, and avoid paying for an entire second day if I slept past sunrise.

I tried to find some simple lunch to fill my empty stomach. Rice would be perfect. I found a restaurant serving typical South Indian lunches. They brought a variety of small dishes and curries, some spicy and some not, as well as rice and chapatis. I nibbled on what I could, filling up as much as possible. I felt better. (pic: first meal after being sick)
















The South Indian languages are intimidating. They are completely different from anything I have encountered as they are not a member Indo-European family of languages. The script as well is unique. I can’t attempt conversation like I do with Hindi or Nepali. Thus it was only English, and some interactions took time.

Finding a bus to go visit the temples was easy, I asked a young guy, and he was waiting for the same bus. We sat next to each other and chatted on the way. I got off first and thanked him.
The Rock Temple was pretty neat, towering over the city on its rock outcropping. Inside there were numerous shrines as you climbed. It was a hard going up, but provided great views of the surrounding city of around a million people. At the top it was very windy. I sat there and watched families play, and one guy came up to me and talked for awhile. We went up together to see the main temple.(pics: looking out over Tiruchirappalli, myself at the top of the Rock Temple, the man who befriended me at the top of the Rock Temple, the peak of the Rock Temple, inside the stairwell of the Rock Temple, a temple on the way to the summit)












































I saw one of the funniest things I have seen written on a sign. This one said that said the rock the temple was built atop was 3500 billion years old, which makes it orders of magnitudes older than the universe. (pic: I found something older than the universe!)
















From the Rock Temple I headed to Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, the largest temple in India! I was very excited to see the South Indian Hindu temples after learning about them in my architecture classes in college. Their many walls that have giant gopurams, which are the gates located in the center of the walls, are gorgeously decorated and usually decrease in size as you reach the center. I remember seeing photos of them lined up in my textbooks. The temple has seven walls, and a total of 21 gopurams. It was built in the 12th century. I noticed that some of its sandstone walls are eroding. I spent a lot of time here, taking it all in slowly, and sitting down and observing the activities.
You’re allowed to go on the roof of one of the walls for a small price, I went up, and was accompanied by the worker who was to escort you. He gave some information, and I asked some questions while I stood and took photos. He offered to give me a tour of the inner areas as you cannot go inside without a tour guide. I declined; it cost 300 Rupees. But he still followed me when I went downstairs again. And kept trying to show me things. Finally I asked if I needed him around to see the temple, beside the inside. He said “no” but insisted the inside was the best part, and you need a guide. Well I explained how I had no interest to go into the middle of the temple for a price. He was shocked that I had no interest, and looked appalled. He stormed off, then stormed back demanding that I give him some money for “leading him on.” I told him I never led him on, that he followed me, and I told him I didn’t want a tour. Still he stuck his hand out, so I put in 5 Rupees, as a small tip for “wasting his time on me.” He got angry, ran over to a beggar, and put it in the beggar’s hand and yelled to me “I am not a beggar, this is a beggar’s wage!” I have to say I didn’t enjoy his attempt at a tour anyway. He only wanted to show off all the sexual artwork on the temple, and I was turned off by his assumption that this was all I would be interested in.
Walking around for awhile was fun. I even ran into an elephant at one point. Felt I almost got trampled. (pics: largest gopuram at Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, gopuram on second inner wall and the shops that make up the space in between the walls of the temple, closeup of a colorful gopuram, gopurams lined up in a row as seen from the top of the third wall, almost getting trampled by an elephant as it turned a corner, the elephant in front of the only white gopuram, myself within the fifth wall of the temple)






























































I still wasn’t feeling 100%, but got some popcorn as a snack and an apple juice.

I took the bus back, and tried looking around for an internet café. Then someone shouted to me. I couldn’t believe it. It was the Bangladeshi guys from the train and cell phone store doing business in India for a week. This is the third time we’ve seen each other, and now hundreds of miles from Kolkata where we got off the train. It was incredible. We chatted for an hour or more, and had tea. Then we headed for a light dinner. They wanted light food as they had a bus back to Chennai, and I was still a bit sick. It was great to see them. Made me feel much better. (pic: myself and the Bangladeshi men who I ran into many times all over India)
















In the evening at my hotel I spent some time practicing my presentation that I have to deliver in two days at the conference.

54th-3rd in Chennai 9/12

I felt a lot better this morning, and had a breakfast of toast and eggs at the hotel after checking out after my 24 hours were up. I walked to the train station, and boarded for my trip to Chennai. On the five hour ride, I practiced my speech every twenty minutes, and worked on how to explain all my ideas. After arriving in Chennai, I took a CNG to the IIT-Madras campus gate. From there I was able to catch a bus to where the conference was. The campus was enormous, and it is a good thing the bus was there, it would have been way too far to walk. I realized later how fortunate I was to get the bus (crowded) because it ran so sporadically.
I had some lunch at a coffee shop chain on campus near the bookstore, and then marveled at the monkeys running around. The wooded campus used to be part of the nearby national park, and it certainly still maintains that look. (pics: IIT-Madras's campus used to be part of a national park, IIT-Madras and its dense foilage)
















I was here for the International Conference on Best Practices to Relieve Congestion on Urban Streets in Developing Countries, which was sponsored both by Fulbright (because a Fulbright Senior Scholar was hosting it at IIT-Madras) and the World Bank. I had submitted a paper to it at the advice of my former professor Dr. Stone.

I checked in at the guesthouse and then was received by undergraduate students (older than me) to bring me to the academic building we would have the conference at. I checked in there as well, and joined a room full of presenters conversing. I was introduced by the conference organizer who I had emailed with over the past two months. He publicly commented to the group how loose my pants looked due to the amount of weight I’ve lost. (pic: the hall my conference was held in at IIT-Madras)
















I talked with two Bangladeshi women who had done studies on women riders of buses in Dhaka. Most of the Bangladesh presenters are talking about buses! I also met a young lecturer from Hyderabad, and he remained a close acquaintance all weekend; we shared a few meals together. I didn’t eat tonight much as my stomach is still readjusting.
While waiting to check my gmail later, I got to talk to a representative from Ghana. He knew NC State because we send students to his campus for study abroad.

I called my Dad to wish him a happy birthday.

Later that night, I unexpectedly gained a roommate. I was not aware I was sharing my room, and apparently neither was he. But we were both okay with it. He was a civil engineer from Kolkata, so it was fun to talk about Bengal with him.

54th-4th in Chennai 9/13

Today was the real first day of the conference. And the day I would give my presentation. I was nervous and excited all day. Hard to focus on the presentations before me because of that, but I was still attentive. (pic: main lecture hall of the conference)
















I’d give my presentation at B-. I felt I might’ve talked too quick. But mostly it was because the moderator told us all we had 5 minutes less each to present, because he wanted more time for comments. Well we’d all find out that that meant 5 more minutes for him personally to comment on each of our presentations while everyone was forced to listen. One audience member told me later that this moderator is always “like this.” (pic: myself getting introduced before presenting my research)
















Even given short notice on the time restriction, I felt I cut out the necessary things, and gave a good 15 minute presentation. I chose the best parts to focus on.
In the future I think I’d scope my slides a bit more. My future papers and presentations will be better, and this was a good start. I was happy with my talk, I spoke with confidence and excitement.

I enjoyed the conference, but I wish that some of the presenters were not reading straight from their slides! I also found a lot of them overlapped, ending up seeming a bit similar. Topics such as pedestrians and congestion mitigation seemed to find a spot in each talk. As well, many folks gave the same background information. There were a few IIT-Madras students, but mostly graduate level, so I believe I was the youngest person at the conference. Most folks are also here from Chennai or India. This is what international delegates must feel when they come to TRB in Washington DC.

The meals are all buffet style with the best of South Indian cuisine. We all conversed while sitting at tiny tables. Only problem is that the same tablecloths were used for all the meals, so they got very dirty, and became gross to eat on them. Some pretty intense discussions over many transportation topics resulted regardless while we ate. (pic: dining area at the conference)















Before bed, my roommate and I had a long discussion about West Bengal and the current political situation there. As well we touched on the political issues facing India in general, and how the states vote on party lines.

I washed some clothing in the bathroom of my guesthouse. I bought some detergent from a campus store and used the bucket provided.

54th-5th in Chennai 9/14

Today was similar to yesterday, except that I was relaxed without having to give a presentation. I did get to see the moderator who pushed us off the stage yesterday give his own presentation. He had over 100 slides for his presentation today, in just a 20 minute presentation. He was clearly going way over time, and had to get told to hurry up and get off the stage. He became flustered, annoyed, and started skipping 6-7 slides at a time, and kept getting interrupted by his moderator. Then during others presentation, when he asked bizarre questions, he was told to be quiet by the moderators. Another professor said he is always like that.

The last presentation of the day was great and I was glad to have caught it. After this there was a panel discussion. However it did not flow like I was used to. After each member of the panel gave their opening remarks, the whole crowd was invited to give their commentary. People one by one took their turn at the podium and expressed whatever was on their mind. The panel simply sat and watched. At the end, two members of the panel gave closing comments. So, not really a panel discussion, more like an opportunity for everyone to express themselves one more time.

In the afternoon, I saw my two-day-roommate off in his taxi. After the conference was over, and after a final dinner I was back to the hotel. The final dinner was a good chance to give our goodbyes to the people we had met over the weekend. I spent the rest of the night checking internet, or in my room watching TV.

54th-6th on train to Mumbai 9/15

Breakfast was at the guesthouse’s mess hall. Two older couples and I were eating there. Standard South Asian breakfast fare that I can’t recall, just that it was what I’d eaten the last two days.

I was afraid I would miss the train. I had gone out to get the campus bus to the front gate so I could catch an autorickshaw, but the bus did not seem to be coming. A women from the conference recognized me, and told me that it might not come for a long while. My other hope was to get an autorickshaw from here but I had to hope one would come by. I was worried. I can’t miss my train! We saw an autorickshaw pass, and they assured it would have to come back our way. It did but with someone in it. We hailed it anyway, and begged him to take me to the train station after dropping the other guy off. Both the driver and guy agreed, and luckily I was on my way.

I met Shuman, Ayon’s brother-in-law, at the station, with still plenty of time to spare. He is in Chennai working for Standard Chartered bank for three months. We got to stand and chat for about 20 minutes before my train came. He walked me all the way to the train car before saying goodbye, and mine was all the way at the end. It was good to see him for even just a short time. He is the one friend I knew in India at the time. (pics: mix of traffic waiting on the streets of Chennai, Chennai Central train station, Shuman/myself at the train station, Shuman taking photos at the Chennai Central train station)






























The train was the nicest I’d booked for myself, as I’d be on it for 27 hours across India. I had a double bunked cabin. Across from me was a married couple, and atop a young guy who never came off his bunk except to use the toilet. Across from me was an Israeli guy, and we chatted for a bit a bit into the ride. We shared a tea, ad he told me about how he was the head of an organization which could be called Adam LeAdam, something he related me as the Israeli Peace Corps. He was the first foreigner I’d talked to on my trip. His top bunk guy was also nice, but didn’t talk to us until the following morning.

Lunch and dinner were pretty much the same on the train. Vegetarian South Indian food. The rotis were cold and uninspiring. I spent the day reading the magazines and books I’d brought form Bangladesh. One was Angel and Demons, the other Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time.

It’s not really possible to roam the Indian trains. The cars are separated as to not allow mixing of the different train classes. I could walk to the end of the AC cars, and that was it. Mostly if I left my bunk I hung out in the doorway of the train and watched the state of Andhra Pradesh fly by. The Eastern Ghats were great to see, as they rose up from the coastline, but the AC windows didn’t allow for good photos, so I had to go to the door and hope it was open for a good shot. (pics: myself hanging out the door of the train, dried up river bed in Andhra Pradesh, train station sign at the surrounding empty landscape, the early hills of the Eastern Ghats)





























A man kept coming by our bunks and sitting and talking to me and the husband across. It was quite annoying. Didn’t seem to pick up how no one wanted to chat with him. Yet he told us his life story as we patiently listened.

The bed was comfy, and I slept well.

54th-7th in Mumbai 9/16

When the train passed through the Western Ghats it was morning. They were much more gorgeous than the Eastern. We emerged from the Deccan Plateau through a tunnel and all of a sudden were looking out over the hills as they swept toward the Arabian Sea. They were much greener, and I had my camera out taking tons of pictures. We went from tunnel to tunnel as we made our descent to the coast. At one point the train stopped for 10 minutes, so I jumped off the train, didn’t go far, just for the hell of it. Train made a stop at Pune and half the train left, and more people came on. The Israeli, Uri, and I decided to share the room I’d booked in Mumbai. (pics: train passing through a tunnel, the view as we emerged from a tunnel in the Western Ghats, myself as the train stopped in the Western Ghats, Uri standing beside our train, train passing through tunnels)












































After arriving in Mumbai, we found our hotel via taxi, and checked in. The place looked empty. Took five minutes until a staff person even showed up. But the room and toilets were nice, good choice. (pics: Victoria Terminal in Mumbai, streets and traffic mix of downtown Mumbai)
















After grabbing a streetside lunch, some sandwich with tons of veggies and cheese for toppings, we found Uri an internet café. I left after that to go explore myself.

I took the suburban trains in Mumbai to go up to Mumbai Central were you can buy bus tickets out of town. I was purchasing one for two days from now to go to Udaipur. The train got crowded, but not to the point I thought it’d be. You did have to expect which side of the train you would disembark as side the platform would was different for each station. I had to ask someone where my stop would be, luckily they knew. If you didn’t expect it, you’d be stuck on the wrong side when the train arrived, and would have to squeeze through the entire crowd before the train left…impossible. No one checked tickets on the train, so I realized I may or may not have to buy one. I did see a fight, some old guy fought a young guy when he felt he was in the way as he got on the train. (pics: packed train at a station on the Mumbai suburban train line, inside the crowded Mumbai trains)















I bought the bus ticket to Udaipur, worrying the whole time it could be a scam.
I then roamed the neighborhoods around the area, trying to see the fancy homes of the city and the rich areas. Saw a Porsche dealer. Lots of high rises, and I was taking pictures of those. I stopped by the home that Gandhi used to stay at when he came to Mumbai. It’s a museum now, with photos of his time there and dioramas of his life. Neat after I just finished reading all about him in the book Freedom at Midnight. (pics: Gandhi talking to Rabindranath Tagore...in diorama form, Gandhi's room in the house he stayed in Mumbai, finally found Gatorade and placed it amongst some of the Mumbai skyscrapers, flyover in Mumbai with new buildings going up in the background)





























I was roaming around without any money, a tragedy in the nicest part of town (or a blessing?) I hadn’t exchanged more money yet, and couldn’t find an exchanger. It started to rain while I was still walking around. I had my umbrella, but already was soaked. Got lost going in a circle. Then thought I’d found a neat way out of it all, and ended going in a circle again! Three times I showed up at the same intersection. I was drenched. Looked for a bus to take me back, as the train station was far. Ended up taking a bus that someone said would take me back to a train station. Bus was jammed and everyone was wet. At the train, couldn’t buy a ticket on the platform, so just boarded, but again, no one checking tickets. (pics: Porsche dealer in Mumbai, it starts to rain at Kemps Corner in Mumbai while I'm walking, its starts to pour and I get soaked in one of the nicest part of Mumbai)





























Uri and I went to dinner together. There he told me more about his program because I asked him lots of questions. Dinner was at a place which looked to be a Mumbai chain restaurant. We walked around town after that in the dark and Uri had a fun time joking with locals. Promised some food stall guy we’d come back for diner tomorrow.

Week 53: Fasting for Ramadan, heading to India, wrapping up in Bangladesh

53rd-1st in Dhaka 9/3

Went by BUET today to drop off the bumper stickers to Dr. Ali, Shegufta, and Dr. Rahman. I had a final chat with Dr. Ali and thanked him profusely for helping me get here in the first place. Shegufta was ecstatic to get the bumper stickers, and I gave her enough to give to all her friends, including the three guys who helped me on the project. I showed Dr. Rahman my presentation and he gave comments on how to improve it for the conference. He had tips for me to prepare for the panel I might be on.After going to BUET I went to New Market to pick up some ties, some books for my upcoming trips (Angels & Demons and A Brief History of Time…two books I would realize later are slightly on the same topic), and to pick up my friend Amit’s tailored shirt which I had ordered, but it was not ready. I also bought some tuxedo shirt buttons, and overpaid for one set.

This evening I headed to Farhan’s for Iftar. It was great that a lot of our friends showed up, even Ishita, who had come to see me for the last time. We had a good time, played guitar and sang songs, and they laughed about their many fond school memories. I wore my new beach shirt tonight. However, here, no one would associate it with a beach shirt, but rather with going to mosque, as it’s made of material usually seen in panjabis that men wear to pray. During my time there, I talked to Ayon about my upcoming trip some more, and what thoughts I had about whether to stay in India longer, or Bangladesh, and how to move around. I think we’ve worked out what I’ll do. (pics: Nipu/Faisal at Farhan's Iftar, Iftar fare at Farhan's, Ayon/Saquib/Farhan, myself/Ishita)

After dinner, I left, and Nipu came with me. I headed toward Malibag, in an effort to take a picture of an “_FC” sign. Well after finding it, he took me by rickshaw to his home, insisting I stay for a bit. I was tired, but obliged, as his home is one of the few I have yet to visit, plus I made him go find the “_FC” sign with me. At his home he gave me some fruit and I talked to his uncle for a bit, and later his mother, before he took me home by his own car.

53rd-2nd in Dhaka 9/4

Today, packing commenced full steam. I had only gotten some done, but it was time to get all my bags, especially those that I won’t need for India and Southeast Asia packed up. This also included packing up a box to ship home via FedEx. My room is an utter mess. (pics: my house is a mess as I empty out the almirah, boxes with stuff to bring to FedEx to ship and a scale to weight them first)
















Today I returned the almirah that I borrowed from Ashrafi. I had to arrange a van and a rickshaw to get it there. Was a bit tough as one guy said he would go, and then changed his mind just as I was ready to take down the almirah with him, saying he didn’t have enough time and things to do later in the day. So I found another rickshaw van driver, and he helped me out. I also found two other random rickshaw wallahs to help me out as well, as we needed four sets of hands to bring it down the two flights of stairs. They took over, and I just assisted as directions were spouted in Bengali. We finally got it down, and strapped it to the rickshaw van. The rickshaw wallahs said I could just sit on top, and there was no need for them. So I paid them, more than I’d liked to, and I was on my way with just the van driver and myself. Arriving at Ashrafi’s brother’s place of business, where the almirah would stay, I’d realized I’d left one of the keys for it at home, would have to come back again. But we unloaded quickly, and the van driver took me back home.

I had a fight with my landlord today over the rent. I had told her a month back that another Fulbright would take my spot in October, and thus the landlord didn’t arrange for anyone else to live there. Well recently that Fulbrighter told me she wouldn’t stay here, and when I told the landlord this, they told me I’d have to cover the month of rent they would not be able to get from her now. I was angered and refused, saying they still had one month to arrange a new tenant.

I set out to FedEx to ship my box. I got a rickshaw to bring me there, and watched as the FedEx employees repacked everything I had into an amount of space I didn’t think was possible. I used their special 25kg box which is a set price, and the best value for that weight.

I went to Annita’s for Iftar, and Ayon and Auvi were there too (this is now the 3rd Iftar in a row I’m having with Ayon.) The Iftar food was amazing, I really gulfed it down and would’ve taken more but we had a delicious dinner on the way. We spent the time before and after Iftar looking at photo albums of Annita's family, from her youngest days to the present.
Her grandfather was a great man to meet. I really enjoyed the short conversation we had before he went to mosque. He made me laugh and I enjoyed his insight. (pics: Annita/Ayon at Annita's for Iftar, Auvi/Annita during Iftar, myself/Hridoy/Auvi/Annita looking at pictures from Annita's childhood)





























When I got home tonight, I dropped in to the flat of the guys’ downstairs. They offhandedly invited me to Sehri tomorrow morning, so I told them I’d come. Would give me a chance to finally to do a real fast for Ramadan. What had been holding me back up until now was that I didn’t have anywhere to eat for Sehri.

53rd-3rd in Dhaka 9/5

Today is one year in Bangladesh.

When I showed up downstairs this morning at 4 AM for Sehri, it was pretty clear the guys had not expected me to show up. They were surprised to say the least, and rushed to ready me a plate of rice, mashed potatoes, and fried potatoes. It was neat to see what they ate, on their limited student budgets, in order to last the day. No one seemed tired, and we talked even after we were done eating.

I finally decided how I was going to handle the end of my India trip, and I booked a plane ticket on Indigo from Delhi to Kolkata, early enough that I could still catch a bus back from Kolkata to Dhaka. It had gotten more expensive since last night when I had last looked at it, and figured I needed to commit.
I also figured out the final trains I will take in India, and made notes on their seating offers and costs, so I could book it all when I got to Kolkata.

I met up with Toma, and we headed out to get two photos of the “_FC” places I needed to capture, as well as drop off the keys to Ashrafi’s brothers. We had a good time on the buses we took, and chatted a lot. (pics: when your rickshaw is broken this is how you get it to the repair shop, one of the many _FC signs I've colleced and will post a mural later)
















This afternoon I had a quick freakout. I thought that I had lost my passport. All day people have been coming in and out off my house to look at it, now that the landlord has put it on the market, and usually in groups of two and three. They’re always accompanied by the landlady or their son-in-law. Well one time I was discussing something with the son-in-law and didn’t watch the visitors. They left, and about an hour later I realized I couldn’t find my passport. Or my credit card! Freaked out. I thought it was gone, stolen by the visitors. Ran downstairs to my landlord and told them what I thought had happened. Ran back up, and soon my landlady arrived telling me to calm down, assuring me it’d be okay. We looked more, but couldn’t find it. I was upset, hysterical, knowing I had to leave the country in a few days…and both items were critical to that. I was shaking. She tried to comfort me. Meanwhile her whole family came in, and her grandson was playing with everything. I asked if they could leave, as it was just stressing me more. They left, and it was just her and I again. While I was frantic, she slowly looked around. She found it, all of a sudden, she found it. In my thrice over search of my room I had missed a pocket in my luggage, and she had found it and inside was both my credit card and my passport. I had hidden them earlier because of the visitors. I was just on the phone with the US embassy to report it stolen, and hung up. They called back later to ensure that I had actually found it. This evening, I bought my landlady and her family sweets to thank them for dealing with me.

After freaking out over the passport, I rushed to Pizza Hut for what was to be my goodbye dinner and Iftar. I had called Ayon and Farhan freaking out already, and they were relieved when I told them all was okay, and they could proceed to Pizza Hut worry free.
I got there early to reserve a table as the Iftar special days at Pizza Hut get packed. While I waited I filled out postcards to send back home.
Pizza hut was a blast. The all you can eat pizza was amazing, I had 8 slices, and some guys hit 9 and 10. Some people at other tables looked to top 20, but they usually leave the crusts behind. A nauseating, but fun, way to end my fast. I had kept the fast of Ramadan all day long, not eating or drinking a thing. It wasn’t so bad. But pizza is a hard way to fill your stomach after fasting. I will do it again tomorrow, same thing.
I gave gifts to all my friends, a small thing for each of them. Bangladeshi flag patches, BUET bumper stickers, books, and baseball and football cards. It was tough to say goodbye tonight, as I knew for some it’d be the literal last time I was seeing them. (pics: Saquib taking pictures of all the postcards I was writing, Nipu/myself upset at the amount of water we are served to break our fast, Faisal/Ayon and others eating the unlimited pizza at Pizza Hut's Iftar special, Auvi/Ayon/myself/Farhan/Hridoy/Saquib/Opu/Faisal/Nipu at Pizza Hut)






























And if anyone is keeping count, this is the fourth night in a row that I’ve had Iftar with Ayon! I sure must like that guy.

53rd-4th in Dhaka 9/6

I got up early again for Sehri today. As the guys knew I was coming, they had made a slightly better meal, including some chicken. We had a great time laughing and joking around, taking photos of each other, and telling funny stories, before heading back to our respective beds. (pics: one of the guys living downstairs eating Sehri (he's the cook too), 4AM Sehri myself/Mehedi/Rabi, the guys who live downstairs during Sehri)






























Today I fasted again for Ramadan, it was no harder than yesterday.

I finished my packing today, and everything is set for India and heading home a month later. I sent a second box via FedEx. Had to pay a bit more for the standard box as my stuff was too big for the special rate box. Then they made an error in calculating the price, and I will have to come back later for my refund. I tried to pay by credit card in the first place, and I should’ve known I was in for some trouble when they pulled the credit card machine out from some drawer, actually had to dust it off. Three of them then fumbled around with it, a bit confused on how to work it.

I went over to Farhanaz’s and Diya’s for Iftar. I dropped off the weight scale and my laptop for them to hold on to while I was in India. Don’t want to take any risks with it while I’m gone for so long. Oyon came by, and it was really cool to see him after such a long time. Took some photographs of Farhanaz and her daughter Zara. (pics: Farhanaz/Zara, myself/Farhanaz/Zara)
















Sometime in the middle of the night, Mehedi came by and picked up my floor fan, It was really late at night, and I almost thought it was dream.

53rd-5th on train to India 9/7

This morning I set off for India, excited and full of anticipation. All of my planning was about to unfold. Even with a small stomach problem, the ride was fun, and I enjoyed watching the Bangladeshi scenery go by on a very nice train (Indian train in fact.) Because the trains travel twice a week, the Bangladeshi train would be returning today from India, while my train, the Indian one, which spent the night in Bangladesh, was heading back.

What was a highlight for the trip was crossing the Jamuna Bridge, my final time, and this time by train. It felt like we were hanging over the edge, as I could see straight down to the water. (pics: signboard on the Dhaka-Kolkata train, heading over the Jamuna Bridge, looking out over the Jamuna River from the open train door, the drop down to the water from the train door)


































The train was pretty much empty, perhaps only 40% filled. I was surprised, and guessed maybe it was because of Ramadan. Talking to some of my fellow passengers, I was told that the train is usually this empty. As explained to me, it is because of the way Bangladeshis get visas for India. In order to travel to India, I was told that they have to enter and leave through the same border post, specified on the visa. So in order to take the train, which runs only Saturday and Sunday, one has to stay all week in India in order to comply with visa regulations. It makes it difficult to take the train, and for this reason ridership is low. But the rumor amongst the passengers is that they might add two more trains a week, making it easier to do this trip on a visa.

The border was kind of neat. The train stopped in these gated off stations, in which we disembarked, processed our visas, and boarded again. There were giant gates across the train tracks, that swung open when the train came up. We had to sit at these stations for a short time even after we finished, as the train is allotted enough time in the train schedule for a full load of passengers, but as we finish quickly, we had to sit and wait and leave on schedule.

I arrived in Kolkata at its new train station, the third largest in the city. A taxi brought me through the new streets by meter to get me to the backpackers area of Sudder Street. At dinner I got to reencounter how much more expensive India is to Bangladesh. I had a simple Bengali meal and it was 50% more than it would cost in Dhaka.

53rd-6th in Kolkata 9/8

The first goal of today was to buy my bus ticket back to Dhaka in 2.5 weeks, and buy all my train tickets for my international travels around the country. First up though was to get a SIM card. I dropped into a hole in the wall mobile store to get the SIM. While there, two guys dropped in and I recognized them from my train ride yesterday. They were Bangladeshi and we all started chatting how we like Dhaka better than Kolkata from what we’ve already seen/experienced (not much.) It was a great time, and since the mobile phone guy was so slow, we had a half hour of conversation. One of the guys was even coming to the US next year to visit his sister in Philadelphia. They had come to India to purchase some machinery for their textile business. (pics: handpulled rickshaws in Kolkata, yellow taxis of Kolkata)
















I bought the bus ticket after shopping around three different operators running to Dhaka, all Bangladeshi owned companies. I bought a mid-morning bus at 10am on the 24th, so I could get back to Dhaka that night, and have three full days in Bangladesh. My flight from Delhi gets in at 8am, so I would have no problem making the bus.

I tried to buy my train tickets from an agent, but all the trains, except for the foreigner tickets, were filled. So I’d have to go to the train office to book them directly. I was nervous that the trains were entirely sold out, and I’d be stuck in places longer or shorter than I wanted, and causing havoc on my schedule
At the train ticket booking office, there was to be a counter only for foreigners, and sure enough, there were crowded lines for all other windows except the foreigner line. I was able to get all six of my train tickets, at that one counter, for all over the country at different times in the next 2.5 weeks. The only train ticket I had to get that I would not have preferred was for my first train trip, where I had to buy the lowest class sleeping cabin as that was all that was left. While there, a little girl and her father and mother were also getting tickets. They were Bangladeshi and the girl had a conversation with me while I bought my tickets.

I got some lunch streetside, and walked through several markets, one which apparently was the toy gun market. I circled through the governmental area. Absorbed being in Kolkata. (pics from my walk around Kolkata: the famous Eden Gardens cricket stadium, tea served in disposable clay cups, the toy gun portion of the market, looking south on BT Sarani, Kolkata buses all have matching color schemes, a man sleeps at the side of BBD Bagh)












































I ended up walking along the riverfront park, which was broken up into three connected sections. Sat at spots, took photos of the Hooghly Bridge, and relaxed after a day spent running around.
I took my first Indian local bus. The buses are all running under a consistent coloring scheme, and have printed fares inside the bus. It is much more structured and cleaner than what can be found in Dhaka. I was able to find a bus by reading the outside, and knew how much to pay once inside. (pics: Hooghly Bridge, myself in front of the Hooghly River and bridge, commuters waiting to catch the ferry to Howrah Station, rush hour in Kolkata along Strand Road)































After dinner, I decided it was time to fix up an issue that’s been bugging me for over a year: a whole in my pocket! I’ve lost countless amounts of coins, and I decided I was done with that. I went to a tailor shop, and asked if I could repair it. They handed me some thread and threaded a needle for me, and I quickly laced up the hole with my shorts still on. Complete, I thanked them, offered a tip, they refused, and I went on my way.

I had to post this picture as well. It is an advertisement for GMG Airlines, the first private airline in Bangladesh, which provides excellent service. The sign clearly states that the airline travels to Dhaka, Chittagong, Kolkata, Delhi, Kathmandu, Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, and Dubai. However the airplane is clearly pictured flying over New York City, which the airline does NOT fly to. So an educated passerby can certainly infer that GMG pilots get very lost on their routes...or the company has a sketchy marketing department (pic: read above paragraph)

















53rd-7th in Kolkata 9/9

There was a long list of sites I had wanted to see in Kolkata before I even cracked open a tour book. This is because many of my friends had already spent time here, and I had learned a lot about the city from them.

First up, I had heard about a famous Chinese streetside breakfast served up at a morning market in Kolkata, first come first serve until its gone, every morning. I asked a taxi driver if he knew about it, and we both decided to head to Chinatown to find it, but it wasn’t there. Chinatown was just five Chinese restaurants in a row, all closed up as it was morning. His next guess was the Chinese Market, and as we arrived I spotted a few “stands” of Chinese dumplings and soups. I got some dumplings, ate them on the street, and they were good. But I had had a stomach ache since waking up, so soon I was feeling nausea. That was a bummer to the day a bit. (pic: Chinese breakfasts being served at the Chinese Market where I ate this morning)















I headed over to the next place I had wanted to check out. The Indian Coffee House, which was famous to me because of a popular song that we had listened to for homework in my Bengali classes. Megan had taken photos of it when she visited last year, so I knew that it was an unimposing place, with a tiny sign, hidden on a streetscape. Took me about fifteen minutes to find it, and was very impressed when I walked inside. Despite the misleading exterior sign, the inside looks as big as a movie theater with high ceilings and the floor dotted with tables. I ordered a cold coffee drink and enjoyed it while I watched the place slowly fill up, I had arrived just 10 minutes after opening. Soon it was filled with young students talking. It earned its fame, and the song, as it was the meeting place for the greats of Kolkata’s cultural elite, intellectuals, artists, and revolutionaries. It was neat be within its walls. I hummed the song to myself. (pics: Indian Coffee House's tame exterior, Indian Coffee House's glamorous interior)
















Next, I headed over to Rabindranath Tagore’s birthplace, a house just north of the center of the city. It’s more of a mansion, sprawling over a large area, and has been turned into a museum about the famous Bengali poet and writer, and his family who also had an incredible array of accomplishments in many fields. I wasn’t allowed to take my camera inside, but that’s okay, as the place is gorgeous from the outside and not really photogenic inside. The exhibits weren’t laid out in any way that made sense to me, and I roamed about, slightly confused. I had been looking forward to seeing this a lot, however, and I did feel I understood the famous Nobel Prize winner much better after the visit. (pics: exterior of Rabindranath Tagore's home with the inset showing a closeup of the statue of him in front, myself in front of the Tagore house)
















One of the highlights of my day was getting to ride the Kolkata subway. I’d read about it, as its construction, in a place where the water table is very high, is a bit of a marvel. Plus it was dug out entirely by human labor! It only has one line north to south, but I saw signs for a new east-west line advertised around town! The subway’s fares were easily understood and purchased, and I boarded the fairly crowded subway. Upon getting off, I took some photographs of the subway pulling away, and some of the signage. Well I was caught. A security guard came over to me while I was standing waiting to take some pictures of the next train, and told me to come with him. He brashly escorted me out through the turnstile, and asked me to read to him what a sign said. I read aloud “No Photography.” He stood by my side and watched me to delete all the photos I had just taken, one by one. Then he told me to leave the station. I obliged. I was afraid I was going to get arrested.

I found this neat, first world looking, café for lunch, and was excited to see items such as avocado and turkey on the menu. I was excited to give in my order. Well about 5 minutes later a server came out to me and told me that avocado and turkey were not available. So, just like in Bangladesh, I was eating a chicken sandwich with the same old toppings.

I went back and took a nap. I was feeling a bit sick still, and exhausted from all my walking around. I headed over later by bus, which ended up being harder than I thought, to see the light show at the Victoria Memorial. I arrived finally, and tried to find where the show would be. The guards I asked however told me that tonight it won’t be playing because it rained today. Well I roamed the garden anyway, and found the musical fountains, and sat and watched two performances of that, which was free and really relaxing, despite my stomach problems. I walked home afterwards, through the posh part of Kolkata’s urban shopping areas. (pics: musical light fountains at the Victoria Memorial, Victoria Memorial at night)
















I had a small, lighter dinner, as best as I could. I really felt nausea, and didn’t want to make it worse.

Week 52: I FINISH MY DATA COLLECTION, and some packing and goodbyes

52nd-1st in Dhaka 8/27

I woke up early this morning to do my fantasy football draft. I was real excited to finally have the season start up again. I had been waiting for week. However, there turned out to be some problems. An unexpected issue on how we had organized the league turned up, an issue with how certain players were retained by our squads. Many of us left the draft with sour spirits, and felt they were cheated by the system. Others were ecstatic. Ultimately, enough complaints were made that I emailed ESPN.com who we run the league through, and they advised us we could reset the draft. So we did this, and set it up for a few days from now.

I did two data collections this afternoon, both on Bishwa Road in Rampura. After the first I headed to get lunch, and called up Farhan to come by and meet me. He agreed to come meet me at a hotel near where I collect my data. I had almost finished eating when he arrived, and it was raining, so we got some Sprites and a small snack and sat and chatted.
We then roamed the area for a bit before it was time to do my next data collection. To my surprise, he offered to help. He stood there with me the entire hour I was collecting data, helping me when buses came by too quickly that I couldn’t catch their names or times. All the ticket counter workers who know me well were excited to talk to him as well, and they got in some intense discussion about jobs and education in Bangladesh.

From there both of us took a bus down to Malibag. He got off first, and I stayed on a bit longer to get to Shiddeshwari. Tonight I was meeting Anwar and Sanjana at her home. Meeting them was great, as I’ve mentioned its been months that I’ve known them but had yet to have a real conversation. I had a great time talking about my experience, where they stay in California, graduate school, and a slew of other topics related to Bangladesh. I also gave her father some bumper stickers, as he is also a BUET Civil Engineering graduate. When they headed home, they offered to drop me, so we had another half hour at least of conversation in the car as we had lots of traffic to get through. It was a great time getting to know Anwar and Sanjana better. I promised them I’ll visit when I finally make my way to northern California.

52nd-2nd in Dhaka 8/28

In the morning I did a data collection at the Rampura bus stand. The ticket collectors on both sides of the road in Rampura are definitely the most friendly of all the ones I’ve gotten to work next to in Dhaka.

Today I did the #6 two-door Motijheel-Banani bus twice. Very hard. I saved this bus to the end of my research because of how hard I’d knew it be. It combines the challenges of a two-door bus, meaning counting two doors at once, and a local bus, which has people hopping on and off at all points of the route and long stops where people show up unpredictably. Very VERY hard. And it lived up to my daunting expectations. There were times were my head was spinning trying to keep track of everyone, and all that was happening. The bus has itty bitty seats, so I was cramped and uncomfortable too. Honestly, I chose the hardest way to finish my research, but the truth is I could not have handled this earlier on.

I had some great meals today in Gulshan at places I hadn’t eaten a meal at before. I had breakfast in Gulshan at Words n’ Pages. It was a two-story bookstore, but to my disbelief (and surely my librarian mother’s) they turned the second floor from a small café/additional bookspace into a full restaurant. So now it’s a one floor bookstore with a restaurant upstairs. Anyway, I went to see if they had anything I can eat for breakfast. And I ended up getting an egg and cheese and a tomato and cheese sandwich. Looking forward to a bagel though.
For lunch I tried out a new restaurant in Gulshan-2 called Tarbush. I was the only one there at 4pm, but the manager was at a nearby table, and he freely shared with me how he decided to make this restaurant, and what he’s been up to for his career. Also shared his thoughts with me on Dhaka’s problems. Good lunch conversation. But the food was incredible. The mango-banana smoothie was out of this world and was a large size for its price. The french fries and onion rings platter was delicious, and very cheap. And the sandwich, although a bit more expensive, was big, and was served on bread baked right at the restaurant. The best bread I’ve had in Dhaka. This place gets two huge thumbs up. Except for the “deck” overlooking Gulshan-2 though, the place looks pretty boring. But as long as you sit on the “deck” you have a good time, the seats and tables are “logs”.

On the way home from the last bus, some guy talked to me the whole time. At first it was nice, but then he began asking me to “take [him] to America” and was very insistent on it. No matter how times I told him he needs a visa, and that attaining one is difficult, he insisted I could just take him because I can just say he’s my friend when we arrive at the airport. These types of conversations never get resolved.

Tonight I talked to the guys downstairs about how we’ll handle the money for the things they are buying. They came up to my room later on my invitation, and we laid out how it would work. I hope they commit well.

52nd-3rd in Dhaka 8/29

With Friday off from work, I wanted to go and make the gifts for my tailor and the owner of the store out front of my apartment building. They were both very friendly and helpful for the tasks I asked of them during my stay, and I wanted to say thank you in a lasting way. I had managed to get photos of both through my time here, and so I wanted to bring them to a framer to give as gifts. I would write a thank you message in Bengali in black marker in the white space between photos. For my store owner and his nephew Hamid I was additionally going to include a one dollar bill inside, like you see hanging on the wall inside the stores of American small businesses.
I couldn’t find a frame at Rifles Square, and disappointed and I started walking back home. On my walk I inspected each shop closely to see if they had frames, and it was then that I noticed a framing store I’d never seen before. I went in, and they were glad to make it, and it was much less than what even the tiniest pre-made frames at Rifles Square cost. I asked them if they could turnaround the tailor’s frame in an hour (I wanted to give it today), and they said sure. So I gave the photos and they set to work doing what I described.
I went back to the framing store, where I had to write the message inside, and then they could finish the framing process. I brought it to my tailor on what was to be my last time seeing him. However, my friend Amit had also requested a summer beach shirt like Ben and I had got, so I knew I’d be seeing him at least once more, but probably when I was too stressed to deliver his gift. On arriving, I got my clothes, and tried on my last suit and my sportcoat. I gave him the order for Amit’s shirt, and he said he would get it done before I left for India. Then I gave him the frame. He smiled and thanked me, and I hope he hands it in his store. (pics: the framer in his shop preparing my gifts, the frame I got made for my tailor as a gift)
















I dropped by Diya’s at some point and picked up a weighing scale that I would use to weigh all my boxes before I shipped them.

Ayon, Farhan, and Hridoy came over in the afternoon, and we hung out for awhile before heading over to Kozmo Lounge. Tonight, Dipto (Ishita’s brother) was performing a concert in promotion of his new album. We arrived at 6pm, as the lounge advertised this as the time. We knew he’d start later, but I just hoped it’d be before 8pm, when I had to leave for a dinner invite. The four of us were met also by Saquib, and the five of us had a fun time hanging out for two hours. All got some coffees and/or cake. Dipto showed up around 7pm, so I was hoping I’d get to see him play. But alas, as I was leaving at 8pm, he was just getting on stage. So I missed the entire performance despite waiting 2 hours to see it. Felt bad. (pics: inside Kozmo overlooking Dhanmondi Lake just after sun set, Ayon/Hridoy at Kozmo waiting for the show, Farhan/Saquib at Kozmo waiting for the show, Dipto doing a sound check for the show I missed because I had to leave for a dinner invitation)






























I had been invited to Mohan’s home for dinner, my last time to see him. His wife prepared an excellent meal which I had several platefuls of. Mohan’s brother-in-law, who I visited once at his leathermaking college, was also there, and it was great to reunite. As well, Bapi, who used to live upstairs, was over, along with his wife and son, who I’d actually never gotten to meet as they were frequently at his village. Lastly, Shibly came by, and I got to see him one last time. A great evening. We enjoyed watching some Bangladeshi TV shows, as well some Mr. Bean episodes. I took some photos of Mohan and I, as well as his wife and her brother. Mohan and his wife spent the entire time trying to get her brother to spend the night, despite his insistence that he had to go back and study. (pics: Mohan with his son Rehan, Mohan/myself, Mohan's brother in law Mamun/Mohan's wife)






























52nd-4th in Dhaka 8/30

This morning my boua became strongly insistent about my floor fan, saying she wanted it and would pay whatever the guys downstairs wanted to pay. Well I told her a promise was a promise, and I gave a promise to them first. One half hour after she left, she came back with Tk300 in her hand! She insisted I take it. I politely refused. Finally she took my hand, stuffed the cash inside, and left. The whole time she had a huge grin on her face. During and afterwards I could only grin too.

I dropped by Nando’s to ask about what they will be serving for their Iftar special starting in a few days, but they wouldn’t tell me. I tried guessing, but she wouldn’t budge on her stance of ignorance. Obviously they know it, but are keeping it a secret. Wily.

This afternoon I met up with Toma for lunch. She had suggested a restaurant on Road 27, inside this art museum. She had gone there for merely a snack before, but she said it was nice. Well it was nice inside, but the food and the service were horrible. Worst restaurant I’ve been to in Dhaka. For Tk120, we received just four small pieces of chicken inside way too much curry for the two of us. I was insulted. I made sure they had gotten the order correct…and they had. Four cubes for two people.
We then headed to Aarong, where I picked up some gifts for friends back home. The rickshaw wallah commented on the way over that I knew how to get around Dhaka better than Toma did. We stopped by the framing store after and I picked up the frame for my store owner and wrote the message inside before they sealed it up. (pic: the frame I got made for the store owner and Hamid in front of my home tailor as a gift)
















I worked on getting ready to leave, packing up some of my stuff, and moving what I knew I would ship. The place is becoming quite messy with just a week to go.

I went over to Tamzid’s home for dinner. His mom served us dinner, even though his father hadn’t made it home yet. I couldn’t stay too long as I had to get a bus back. After dinner I waited to say goodbye to his father returning home, and meanwhile we watched The Daily Show, which I haven’t seen all year. They were reporting on the Democratic Convention, and it had me bent over in laughter.
I took the #3 bus home, and to my nice surprise, the bus conductors and driver were the ones I had ridden with recently for my research and had had lunch with. He recognized me quickly, although it took me a few seconds to place the faces. It was very cool to “know” the bus staff, I felt “in.”

52nd-5th in Dhaka 8/31

I did my last curbside collection this morning, in the blaring hot sun that had me sweating as it beat down on me.
I then swung back to Farhan’s home, where I would have breakfast this morning. I took a bus down to the Malibag railroad crossing, and decided I would try walking down the train tracks, just like most people do in Dhaka. Despite Farhan warning me not to do this, I figured there was nothing bad that could happen, except getting hit by a train. I knew the portion by his home was not cramped with squatters. Well it was difficult to walk on the rail sleepers as they were spaced oddly and I couldn’t take normal steps, only short ones as long ones were way too long. And I missed his street, as I had gotten into a rhythm of walking on the sleepers, so I had to backtrack (no pun intended.) Breakfast was delicious: parota, omelets, and cheese as well as some sweets left over from the last holiday. He showed me the video of him performing at his university last week. (pics: train passing by while I was walking on the train tracks with people riding on top with giant pots of food, people walking with me on the rail sleepers, train coming down the tracks near Farhan's home, train pasing by as I walk next to the tracks)






























After this I left and rode the number 6 bus twice. It was hot, unbearably so. I felt horrible and did not want to be on the bus. I noticed my heartbeat was racing because of the heat. Plus there’s the bodily stress of having to lean out the window the entire time. It wears on me. Luckily this bus I rode twice wasn’t cramped for the seat I’m in. But the pain from leaning out the window was still bad.

The best part of the afternoon was having lunch with Toma at a restaurant in Mohakhali. She works nearby so we first went to Citycell to transfer over my wireless card account to her and her sister who will take it over. We reduced the amount of monthly data allowance as they won’t use it as much as me.
We then headed to the restaurant called “The Newsroom.” Its just east of BRAC University on the second floor. It was clean, modern, and had great decorations. The food was out of this world, with a lot of neat selections that I’ve never seen before in Dhaka. It’s neat to still be finding new great restaurants popping up. Apparently this owner is also the old owner of A&W, and he said A&W will reopen soon. (pics: the inside of the great new restaurant The Newsroom, the food there looks and tastes great...I really liked the place)
















I spotted these boys flying kites in a field with construction materials. I’ve been trying to capture this very popular Bangladeshi pastime for awhile. (pic: boys flying kites in a field of construction materials)
















I had dinner at Nafisa’s Aunt Sylvy’s home. I hung out with Ishfaq and Ishraq and her before dinner. She told me about Nafisa’s paternal uncle and his family and how they are faring in the US. It was good to hear an update on everyone. She informed me of Nafisa’s plans to return to Bangladesh, how her husband is, and the like. Dinner was delicious as usual, and she sent me home with some cake that she had made just for me.

Tonight I spotted a lizard eating one of the cockroaches in my house. I was so proud of it, I took its photo. (pic: lizard running away with a resident of the cockroach motel in my boot)
















52nd-6th in Dhaka 9/1

Today I finished my work. And by that I mean I collected my last bit of data, a relief after all the time I’ve spent on it. I have what I feel is satisfactory to write a quality paper on the bus system and its overcrowded conditions in Dhaka! I had two bus rides left on the #6 bus, and today they weren’t nearly as bad as yesterday. I think because I was excited, I finished quickly and without feeling sick.

Besides that, today was also a great day. It started with my fantasy football league’s redo of the draft. And this time everything went okay. I think I have a great team and am excited for the season, even though I’ll have to play on my travels and find time to tweak my rosters. One of the best parts is my friends Greg and Will have joined the league to replace members we booted out for not playing regularly.

I spent some time this morning working on my presentation for the conference, just a bit of formatting and arranging of my thoughts, jotting notes on each slide…and deciding the color scheme. As well I had to write a conference biography that will be used to introduce me when I speak.

After posting my blog in the morning, my last time posting in Bangladesh, as I don’t’ have the time anymore to write in my journal, I headed up to Gulshan where I met Shaheen and Harvey for lunch, which doubled as a debriefing of my time here. There was also a new woman there, who has taken over Harvey’s responsibility that pertain to Fulbright. So meeting me was a transition experience for her, as she got to hear how my time went and ask questions. We went to a buffet, which allowed me to really fill up! I said my good byes to them. I really appreciated all they did for me while I was here. I felt I always had a friend at the American Center knowing they worked there.

I headed to Rampura to do my last data collection between bus routes. I said good bye to the counter workers who had been really cool every time I saw them. Then I did the second #6 bus. Everything worked out well.

After all my work, I went to Naira’s home. She had invited me out for dinner one last time. We headed to the new Cofi 11 in Banani. It’s much bigger than their old place, although it doesn’t have the cool outdoor patio (not like I used it anyway.) Still there is outside seating, and the food is just as good. It was a great way to end a great day. I took her back with a taxi and then took that taxi home myself.

52nd-7th in Dhaka 9/2

I spent all of day working on my presentation for the conference. There was some data I realized I needed to complete for the presentation, so I set to work on getting it processed. I had to bring it later to Ayon’s for Iftar to get it done by tonight, so I could use it tomorrow.
I went to Ayon’s home for Iftar, tonight is the first day of Ramadan. I was excited. This holiday really is a landmark for me, as I was here for all of Ramadan last year, and now I really have a market to gage how long it’s been.
One thing that’s different between last Ramadan and this one is that last year I really couldn’t pick out the differences between Bangladesh during or not during Ramadan. Obviously closed restaurants are easy to spot and understand, but how the schedule of daily life changes so drastically during this period is noticeable. It was too early for me to note anything last year. But now I see it all. I can tell that things are different. I notice which restaurants are not open when they usually are. I can tell when the streets are more or less busy with shoppers, and I can tell when the highways have more traffic. I notice how people shift when they go to the market and ride the bus (of course) As well, the general atmosphere in the air, it just feels different. (pic: temporary stand set up to sell the popular Iftar foods, a tea/snack stall covered with a blanket for those not fasting to eat during Ramadan and not disturb those fasting)
















Anyway, Iftar. I really didn’t think the roads were that bad on the way over, not the stuff of Ramadan legend. I got to his side of town at least a half hour earlier than I intended to show up. So first I went to the bus offices at Arambag and inquired about their times for when they travel from Kolkata. To my dismay, they don’t have any night buses, as the border is closed at night, and Kolkata is very close to the border. So that throws a bit of a wrench in my plans. I discussed it all later with Ayon, and we made a matrix of options I have for my India trip, so that helped a lot.
It was fun, relaxing being there with Ayon’s family. Hridoy was now in town, and he talked to me a lot. We had Iftar on the floor of the drawing room, with lots of delicious Iftar goodies that I remember from last year spread out in front of us. I was excited to eat again all the familiar tastes from last year. (pic: at Ayon's for Iftar with his newphew)















After leaving Ayon’s, I had only minutes to catch the last bus home. As we got to Motijheel, I saw what I thought was the last Mega City bus home, so I ran after it yelling “Oy Mega Mega! Oy Mega!” just like the bus conductors do. Not sure if it was necessary, but I did make the bus. I spent the rest of the night at home working on my presentation, until 1 am.