January 6th: Arrival

It hasn't been very long since I have seen everyone, and I know that, but I think my time commitment to be here for so long is making me miss everyone SO much so quickly. I am on my first night in Bangladesh and I feel like I am dreaming--perhaps having a twisted nightmare, jury's still out. I have been in Tokyo, Bangkok, and Kuala Lumpur in the past 48 hours. I spoke Japanese at a sushi restaraunt, took our group on a tour of Bangkok, and just met my host mother.

When we got to Dhaka, we waited in customs forever because we were foreigners and apparently not too many people visit the land o bangla often. "What to do?! Visitors?!" Anyway, our nonprofit forgot to send a car for us anyways so we sat outside in a mob of mosquitos and impoverished children while we tried to find a phone we could use. The Bangladeshi police clear out the airport's exits, but once you leave the actual building you can't go back inside. Welll... we didn't know this and we left the building when we couldn't see the driver. Funny thing about THAT is... none of us had bought cell phones or exchanged money yet and were trapped outside the phones. Behind us: locked airport. In front of us: a jail bar-like fence separating us from half the population of Dhaka, a group of staring, intimidating, homogenous people.

We met some random man who wanted to help us and lent us his phone. To continue the theme of "Allison is incredibly unlucky, sorry co-interns," our boss didn't answer at the number he gave us and the only person who answered at the BRAC office didn't know who he was. Everyone was acting helpless and I was getting really frustrated. No good. I sat to think/ pout like a six year old and not two minutes into my sidewalk-glaring, there was a smiling child a foot from my face. She was absolutely adorable. Anyway, her dad was with her and kind of helping with the cell phone situation and we were waiting for one of our houseparents to make some headway with the driver. This gave some opportunity to make friends. The only people from that huge group of people in front of the bars that were allowed in to the interim area outside the airport but inside the fence were gov't VIPs. He was a VIP. Gave me his card (Finance Minister in the Dept of Commerce of GoB), invited us to dinner, left us to wait for our car (but not before his daughter gave me a pen and I gave her my pink sparkling one. God she was cute/ made my night sooo much easier).

We got picked up from the airport and driven to our homestays, but somehow all the travel and craziness was on my mind more than my anticipation to learn about my living situation. I showed up at Mrs. Chowdhury's house and was totally out of it. I saw shoes on the ground by the door and feared I was about to be offensive, so I was hopping out of my sneaks and being coaxed inside, my head was not covered by my scarf anymore so I was reaching in my purse to drag it out and wrap it around, and I was trying to feel out her English. I looked like an idiot. It isn't at all like I expected. As I am writing this entry, I am sitting bundled up under a mosquito net after the most bizarre evening ever. I live with a 75-is year old woman who would like me to call her Mrs. Chowdhury. She has two servants and a doorman (since writing this I have found 6 servants total), but she talks to none of them. Apparently her husband died on November 24th and she has been very depressed. Her sons, ages 21 and 17, suggested she contact BRAC to give her someone to talk to. She greeted me after the whole airport mess with a ton of Bangladeshi food. MmMMMMMMM. (as sarcastic as one's intonation could be). We had dinner and she told me all of her woes. She was asking me what I like to eat and I was just trying SO hard to be polite. The discussion about food somehow transitioned to me claiming peanut butter and banana sandwiches were healthiest, most American meal I could ask for. She'll have both inthe morning. I feel ridiculous--good thing the other interns weren't there!

I have this big room, with a big, stiff bed (like Im sleeping on plywood), and a little cupboard. There are a few dining chairs up against the wall and a big jail-like bathroom. The bathroom has big open windows that dont shut, and the screens have big holes in them. Its not a big deal that my windows dont shut in my room, but I worry about Dengue Fever and Malaria. Shit. My mosquito net is going to be pretty valuable. I am crossing my fingers the season doesn't bring 'em in swarms.

Over Christmas break, I drove around with Mike a bunch in Danger (his red Ford Ranger) while the snow was bad. He teased me by tricksin and turnin, and I fake braked and got scared... that driving is NOTHING compared to the driving in Dhaka. Cars are servin bitches all the time. One passes another, then someone else is passing that car at the same time and motorcycles are weaving through it all...and randomly rickshaws and pedestrians are in there too. I feel well-trained at least. The other interns didn't have a whole three weeks of fear to get them ready. Nor are they best friends with drivers like Lyndsay and Megan. I swear one trip to the mall with them provides enough near-accident, fake-acceleration, for me to know the Pearly Gatekeepers by name. HA! Good online joke. Can anyone follow it?wonkwonk