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 22: Sonargaon was the capital before Dhaka even knew how to spell "government"

22^nd-1st in Dhaka 1/30

Woke up and throat wasn’t much better. Gargled with some warm salt water for the third time. Then drank some warm water, easier to go down. Changed and went to the hospital. Bundled up in warm clothes.

The hospital wasn’t as clean or state-of-the-art as US hospitals. Diya and Farhanaz’s mom, the doctor with whom I was meeting with, told me it is because this hospital is kept affordable for middle class families. I met her in her office, the pathology dept, and she took me upstairs to a throat doctor. He took a look down my throat, said I had an infection, and prescribed me four pills to take (one antibody, two painkillers, and one antacid.) She got me some hot coffee and told me to drink it. Also gave me soup to bring home. Only warm liquid foods today. Told me to keep gargling salt water

Saw that the NY Mets are getting Johan Santana from the Twins. What an awesome deal. Looks like we’ll be contenders again and hopefully won’t have another end of season crash-and-burn.

Watched Philadelphia, staring Tom Hanks. It’s one of those movies I remember my parents watching when I was little, but I never actually watched, but still knew what it was about. I really liked it. I especially liked how the movie skipped big chunks of time at once. It gave you the impression of time flying by. And as he has AIDS, you get the feeling that his life is running out of time quickly. Makes you realize how little time he has to live. Helped the movie feel real to the viewer.

Dip came over later so i could go over his essay with him. I was reviewing some of his college essays that he's using for the slew of US schools he's applying to. Giving advice on how to make them stronger.

22^nd-2nd in Dhaka 1/31

I woke up feeling a lot better. Had kichuri and egg for breakfast, along with hot water to sooth my throat.

Went to BUET. Ok, so the university has a really weird schedule. Its weekend is not typical, even for Bangladesh: Thursday and Friday. The whole country is off on the holy day of Friday, but usually Saturday is the day taken to make a two day weekend. Well BUET decided to go Saturday through Wednesday. It would be like a US university having class Tuesday through Saturday. Of course, some universities, such as the famous Dhaka University, go six days a week, Saturday through Thursday. I showed up today and the computer lab I have permission to use was closed. I was directed to go to the central library. Getting in there without a student ID was a hassle.
Central library computer lab has 42 computers...some Dells, some HP. All are running Linux.

One thing I kept meaning to mention was something I read in the Dhaka’s STP. It is that there isn't much parking in Dhaka, and its because the need isn't recognized by those important enough to be doing the planning. Because people have private drivers, the lack of a parking spot doesn’t really occur to them, or get mentioned enough to make it an issue. It is not a perceived issue. Plus, a private driver stays in the car, so a parking lot can be real dense since the drivers can always move when needed to let another car out.

Came home and bought some fruit from the streets. Oranges, apples, and for the first time pomegranates. Thought they’d be good for eating with my cereal. Gave them to Moweena, our boua, to cut open and seed for me. She was glad to. I had kept reading people rave about them on NCSU’s student message board, and since they were so cheap here, decided to purchase.

Saw a bunch of people staring at something. Huge crowd…what could it be!? Oh, it was just a construction site. Everything here gathers an enormous crowd. Our bus got pulled over by a cop the other day, and I counted 13 people on the sidewalk who stopped to watch the cop talk to our bus for the entire duration of the conversation, about 5 minutes. (pic: a large crowd of about 20 people gather around a nighttime construction site to watch)

The girl whose Fulbright essays I helped review, Samantha Huq, made it to the next round of Fulbright. Very proud of her. Glad she moved along. Would be neat to actually meet her after talking online so much.

22^nd-3rd in Dhaka 2/1

Watched NCSU blow it against Duke this morning. So upsetting. Up by 9 at the half, only to lose by 20!!! GRRRRRR.

It’s the first of the month. What does that mean? It means everyone is moving! Like I should’ve been, but oh well. Every apartment rental starts from the first of the month, so on the street today were many rickshaw vans taking around people’s furniture. Big stacks of furniture, chairs, and household items. Sometimes the owner rides on top. (pics: two shots of different furniture moving by rickshaw van)

Talking about moving, moving big stuff in Bangladesh is always interesting. Whether you have product for your store, or a big bundle of things you bought, or delivering something for a business, there seems to be a large upper limit to what a rickshaw, rickshaw van, or hand cart can carry. Long things, fat things, tall things, or stacks of many things. It’s great when the owner rides with it, and especially on top. I think the pictures speak for themselves. Some stuff looks real heavy to carry. Sometimes the hand carts have extra pushers to move items like steel or cement. I like the rickshaws full of bags of items the best. Oh and the big stack of metal containers which always towers over the driver. Also am impressed by the bravery of the people who carry new computer towers in their laps on rickshaws! Eek!! (pics: steel rebar being transported by hand cart with pushers helping, transporting lots of stuff on top of a rickshaw van and holding tight to that TV, transporting 2 chairs by rickshaw van and taking a seat while riding (this picture keeps making me crack up...just sitting in his chair as he gets driven around), bravely transporting your computer in your lap on a rickshaw, transporting big sacks of something by rickshaw and taking the top seat, typically the biggest thing stacked I see on the streets: metal pots in giant sacks piled on top of rickshaw van)

Went to lunch with Lauren clay and some of her friends at Café Mango. They had just gotten back form Nepal and China, so heard her friends’ stories. After meeting there, went to Lauren’s to take the TV and DVD player I said I’d buy. Well the TV was smaller than she had advertised, so decided not to take it. Only took DVD player. Will take fridge at a later date.
Dropped DVD player off at home then met the girls at new market. Bought another scarf while there. Went cloth shopping with Lauren, in real tight quarters. She was buying for her bed back home, when she goes back. During this process we decided I would buy her cloth she’s using as window drapes for my place before she leaves. Found out I can make them into permanent drapes for Tk30 each piece.

Painters coming tomorrow said the landlord. I’m excited because I’ll have nice walls when the place becomes mine. She told us to lock up our valuables just in case, that you never can trust people coming into your place to work. Spent part of the evening getting things safe for their arrival, putting all electronics in my suitcase in preparation to lock it on the veranda. Also cleaning up lose items so they couldn’t find or drip paint on them.

When I went out to the shop in front of my apartment to buy some goods, the shopboy, who I’ll guess is 12 years old, asked me if I wanted to play badminton in the street. He’s always playing with his friends there and always sees me with my racket. So I said sure, and we hit it around, no net, just back and forth in our thin street for about 20 minutes. Kept having to pause to let walkers pass, and when customers came to his shop.

Spent time researching University of Texas tonight. 2 grad schools down, 9 to go.

22^nd-4th in Sonargaon 2/2

Woke up and headed out to Gulistan to meet with Megan. Before leaving, finished preparing the room for the painters. Wanted to make sure nothing could get dripped on, and all expensive things were packed and stored. Mohan said he might try and get the painting date changed so one of us could be home.

Ride out from Gulistan was uneventful minus having to keep changing seats on the bus because some were near broken. We found a bus that was express to Sonargaon, so that was convenient. When we got down from the bus, rickshaws were just waiting to take us to the tourist sites (every time I read that sentence I think of the line “They’re just waiting to give you your money!” spoken by Alec Baldwin’s character in Glengarry Glen Ross, one of my favorite speeches that I enjoy watching anytime…watch it here, and if you don't like swear words, the quote I'm referring to is at 3:55…of course its also funny because the rickshaw drivers are thinking exactly what Baldwin says!) They know why we’ve all come. So we just jumped on one, and he started pedaling us to the historical area.

A bit of history on Sonargaon, because I found it quite interesting (adapted from Lonely Planet’s guide to Bangladesh.) It was the capital of Bengal, and during the 13^th century it was the Hindu seat of power for the region. It became the Islamic capital of the region when it was taken by a sultan in 1280. In the 1300s, the first official sultan of Bengal established his capital there. It was the capital of east Bengal for 270 years, until the Mughals invaded and got rid of the sultans. They thought Sonargaon was too exposed since it was close to the Meghna river, and they moved the capital to Dhaka. Not much remains of the original city, except for some mosques, tombs, and stupas. Most of the architecture we saw there were from the Mughal period and later, and was mostly built in the late 1800s.

The first stop was Sadarbari, which was built in 1901 and was a rajbari for the area (a royal family’s home.) It houses a folk art museum but has beautiful architecture in two facades. We skipped it first and headed to the newer museum, with the intent to save the best for last. Newer museum in a modern building was definitely not the main attraction at this place. People seemed to just walk in, do a quick loop, and come quickly out.

Roamed the grounds. Took a ride on a ferris wheel. If you remember from one of my earlier posts, these things are made of wood, very rickety, and are spun by men pulling on each cart as it passes. Megan and I decided to try it. The operators always need to ensure the whole thing is balanced properly, so they give specific instructions on where to sit. Some of the extra operators took seats in other cars to make sure it was balanced. It was wild, stomach plummeted on each spin. Crazy to be on it when they’re spinning it with their hands. (pics: ferris wheel which is hand spun by its operators, operator hand spinning the ferris wheel by pulling down on one of the cars)

Finally came back to Sadarbari proper, and went inside the folk art museum/beautiful building. I took a lot of photos of the architectural details. While walking around the place, two guys started talking to us. They offered to take our photos for us and helped lead us around, and were being generally helpful. Names were Abusaleh and Ashraful. We were asking them questions too. They lived nearby and kept asking us to come see their home after we saw all the sites. We went outside and took pictures out front of the exterior. Then walked the grounds to the northern exit of the huge garden complex. (pics: front courtyard in Sadarbari, myself/Megan in rear courtyard of Sadarbari, Abusaleh/crazy looking stuffed person/Ashraful in folk museum, myself/Megan in front of Sadarbari)

Next stop was to see another rajbari. This area we went to was called Painam Nagar. You ride in on rickshaw through tons of old Hindu merchant’s mansions, very ghost town like. People don’t live there anymore. This whole area was built between 1895 and 1905 on top of the old capital city. The last one we got to was the rajbari. It’s being refurbished by two Chinese architects. Walking around the rajbari was neat. It was being repaired at points, made me wonder how stable it was. Told Megan that this is where I’m certain musical artist Habib’s music video for “Krisno”, which my friend Ishita played a part in (the building and her first show up at 1:45, Ishita is the one in the red saree..) Told the guys this, and they instantly recognized it and agreed. I knew it was in Sonargaon just didn’t know which old building. Wanted to go to the second floor, but stairs were clearly out of repair…as in they had collapsed. (pics: rajbari with man bathing in pond in front, Abusaleh/Megan/Ashraful inside rajbari where music video was shot)

We then walked back through Painam Nagar, looking at all the old mansions, taking photos of the ghost town. I couldn’t get over this single street lined with old homes. Some awesomely decorated but boarded up. Some locals had taken up temporary residence as squatters. Local kids were playing amongst the buildings. (pics: the ghost town which is now Painam Nagar, century old Hindu mansion in Painam Nagar, myself standing in Painam Nagar, myself/Megan standing in the entry of one of the mansions)

Megan had really wanted to see Goaldi mosque, one of the few buildings in the area actually from when it was the old capital. We had to ask around on where to find it, and we got rickshaw drivers who did. Guys took one rickshaw, we took another. This mosque was built before the Mughals arrived, and is a single domed mosque, and smaller than what we saw in Tangail. Apparently in 1700s it was falling apart, so they built a newer mosque across the street in the Mughal style. Now they are both there and only the newer one is in use. I enjoy seeing all these mosques, as it is one of my favorite architectural forms. And especially the craft that goes into detailing. (pics: Goaldi mosque with Abusaleh and Ashraful in front, Goaldi mosque on the left built in 1519 and the newer Mughal style mosque in the back left built in 1705)

After this, Abusaleh and Ashraful begged us to come back to see their village. Even though we knew we had to be back for pizza at 5pm with Diya, we thought we could make it since they said their home was really close, 10 minutes away, and we had 2.5 hours until we had to meet. From the bus stop, however, the bus took about 20-25 minutes, and then of course there is the 5 minute walk to their home from the bus stop. So total, that adds about 50 minutes onto the trip just with the going there and back. There was still a chance we could make it on time if traffic was as smooth as this morning, and we didn’t stay too long.
But we did stay too long. I was still glad we went, despite that we were now going to be late. We were given snacks and had to wait for Abusaleh’s mom and dad to come home to meet them. Abusaleh showed me his cucumber field, his main crop. Gave me some fresh picked ones. When his mom finally came home, we said hello and then said we really had to leave. Told them we’ll come back, which is true, probably in a month. (pics: Abusaleh showing us his cow, standing in Abusaleh's cucumber field, Megan and Ashraful in Abusaleh's home, Megan holding up traffic on the bridge out of Abusaleh's village)

Bus got stuck in some traffic. Then getting a bus to Jigatola from Saidabad station was easier said then done. Showed up at Pizza Hut 55 minutes late. Luckily Diya was there with her friends, so she wasn’t bored. They had already eaten a full pizza. I apologized for my poor judgment in arriving on time. We ordered another pizza and Megan and I ate that one primarily. This Pizza Hut just opened a few days ago, the second in Dhaka, third in Bangladesh. It was gorgeous, two stories, and delicious. Ice cream was amazing too. Might be a place I’ll go to too often.

22^nd-5th in Dhaka 2/3

Worked on fixing up my notes and ideas about data collection. I’d been writing them by hand, but needed to get them into a word document to arrange them coherently. See what my thoughts are.

Met with Dr. Rahman after lunch in his office. Brought my letter from Fulbright, but he said he won’t be able to get me a university ID since I’m not a student or staff. But he said he’ll get me a letter on university paper and signatures. I will show that to people who hassle me about using things. That’ll be good.
Told him about my progress on the project, how I was happy with my pace, and that I enjoyed the literature review. Told him about my data collection ideas, and how I knew I’ll definitely need two people at all times during data collection to do things correctly.
In the office as well was one of his senior students. He said I’ll get to meet all of them next week, but this one, Arjun, was especially interested in my project. I asked about these seniors, and tried to gauge what their senior projects were like, how much time they are supposed to devote to it, and how much time I should ask of them if they help. Didn’t want to overwork or expect too much of anyone.

After the three of us met, Arjun and I went outside and chatted. Learned about each other. Told him about the project. Asked him more in depth questions about the senior project process. Appears that for senior projects, the teacher highly recommends what they do, but they have the option to design and do their own project. He could jump on with me and make his research topic close to mine. Also found out that senior projects are not a class, but just an outside thing, meeting only with professors weekly and working independently. They get their advisors by picking professors’ names out of a hat from a certain discipline…so he picked Dr. Rahman’s name out of the transportation topic hat.

He showed me his dorm room too. He lives in the all-Hindu dorm. All the other dorms are all-Muslim dorms. And then there’s one girl dorm. Three students to a room, which is a bit bigger than what I lived in one other student at NCSU. Each student gets a table, chair, and bed. All rooms face outside.

Went to dinner with Jen and Ben. Hadn’t seen my old roommates in a long time. On the way over my tempo had a flat tire. More than half the people said screw it and went to find another vehicle, but I stuck with the poor guys. Didn’t mind a 4 minute wait. They had it replaced real quick and we were on our way. Conductor was laughing how this was probably the least profitable trip he’s ever had.

Found Jen and Ben’s place….enormous but the price isn’t too high. We walked to road 27 and got some Chinese food. My stomach was on edge a bit, possibly from some tea I took from a tea shack earlier, but I felt great after eating.

22^nd-6th in Dhaka 2/4

Woke to see that NCSU had beaten Wake Forest. It was a pretty bad game for us as we trailed for most. But we came back to tie on a 17-7 run, and then took the lead into the end. We were up by 2, and J.J. Hickson had a chance to seal the deal with two free throws but couldn’t. Wake Forest then scored 2 points with 3 seconds left to tie it. We had once last chance to prevent it from going to overtime. Ben McCauley inbounded it to Gavin Grant at half court. They were all expecting him to drive the lane, but instead he put up a 3! It bounced off the rim, but what happened next was incredible. Ben McCauley, comes out of nowhere, across the entire court, and dunks the shot back in! Incredible. Watch the video, it still gives me chills. What an awesome way to go out.

If it wasn’t for the giants beating the patriots in the Super Bowl that would’ve been all over ESPN’s Sportscenter top 10.

Sitting outside in warm sun to do some of my work. Inside the CE building it’s surprisingly cold. And the warm sun after lunch was very soothing. Today was going over some of the tougher questions I needed to consider about the data collection. For example, if a bus is stuck in traffic, and people are getting on and off as it sits there, how do you classify those movements in terms of stops on the route? Those kinds of questions needed to be answered.

Met up with Santa at Sonargaon Rd and Elephant Rd. We had talked about a trip to Rajshahi this weekend, because I’ve been thinking about going. We made our plans on times and such, and then went to the bus ticket office to book tickets for Thursday. Will be neat to get out of town and see a calmer place.

I was going out to buy things after dinner and Mohan asked me to bring back “ek hali dim”…which I thought was a type of egg. Told the guy at the store I wanted those types of eggs, and said I wanted 4. When I got home I assed mohan what type of egg that was, “ek hali.” And he said 1 hali is equal to four of something, just like one dozen is equal to twelve of something. Had no clue about this. This changes my life because “four” is the hardest number for me to say. People always confuse my “four” for a “six” (4 = “char” 6 = “choy” and my “r” isn’t very hard) but now I can just “hali” from now on if I want four of something…makes it so easy!

22^nd-7th in Dhaka 2/5

Spent a little bit of time researching MIT this morning. The third school I’ve randomly chosen from the eleven schools to research.

Had lunch with Naira. We went to the restaurant I’ve been frequenting, and had soup and noodles. Afterwards we walked around BUET’s campus, obviously not her first time, but her first time in the CE building.

Avian flu has come to Bangladesh. Very scary. Don’t think I’ve ever been that scared of a disease before. The fact that you have such a short time to find out if it’s a cold or avian flu if you have symptoms is scary. They had to kill thousands of poultry in northern Bangladesh. Luckily no human cases yet. Luckily the disease is inefficient and doesn’t transmit very well.

More on that New Zealand rowing rivalry. This past weekend Drysdale beat out Waddell in their most recent head-to-head matchup, but only by half a boat length. They’ll face off one more time at the Natl. Championships before the Olympic Trials in March.

After leaving campus I went to Naira’s place to play badminton. She invited me to play at her neighbor’s house where I played once earlier. The bus ride took 1.5 hour to get there. And was exhausting as I was standing the whole time. There were tons of people at badminton, and thus in the entire night I only got to play two games in 2.5 hours of being there.

Faisal, Naira, and I went to Bella Italia after. Bella Italia is apparently the best Italian restaurant in Dhaka, and it definitely lived up to its reputation. Pizza, two pastas, and tiramisu were all well done. They were nice enough to drop me off at home in Dhanmondi.