Mehndi Magic

Yesterday was a day for Bengali beauty. I started the morning by getting some authentic Henna (called mehndi here) on my hand and wrist. Women here do henna to celebrate Eid and also for their wedding day. The kind and patient neighbor of some of the other volunteers offered to show us neophytes how it's done. As demonstrated by my last post, I definitely needed some help.

Anushka, a lovely Bangladeshi girl living in our building, does
 meticulous henna work on my hand and wrist.

Posing with the artist!

The intricate design in its full glory. The brown liquid dries, cracks off, and then...

becomes this finished product, pretty orange! Now I'm Bangladeshi stylish :)

After henna fun, another volunteer Amie and I decided to go to a salon that's popular with AUW staff for $4 pedicures. It was 45 minutes of bliss and probably the most thorough rework of my legs and toesies to date!  Loving it! 

The news out of Bangladesh...

"It is a powerful blow against an institution that has flourished and helped millions of poor people largely because it is in the hands of women."

Read this New York Times article  about what the Bangladeshi government is trying to do right now with The Grameen Bank, the Nobel Peace Prize-winning microfinance organization. Grrr corruption.

Eeeeeeeep!

Creeping the halls of AUW, the biggest spider I have ever seen.

EID MUBARAK, yall!

The Bengali celebration of Eid is upon us here, marking the end of fasting and the return of the other eleven months' way of life in Chittagong. I'm excited for the streets to re-awaken and to witness what this city will be for the rest of my tenure. I'm also already plotting a street food eating crawl! Eid Mubarak, yall! (Mubarak, by my understanding, means something like the "merry" in "Merry Christmas.")

We have orientation sessions during this time, but the Bangladeshi people around us are spending seven days celebrating the end of Ramadan. They eat lots of food and mishti with family, dress up in saris and do henna.

Now of course I wasn't going to miss out on the henna! Our field director kindly gifted us each a kit (costing $0.50 - confirming my suspicions that Florida beach stores selling tiny henna designs for $15 a pop are making ridiculous profits off pre-teen girls) and we went to work. Unfortunately my drawing skills, especially when using runny liquid that stains, are less than rudimentary. I am planning to get professional henna done for the next celebration day. But I am not totally ashamed by what resulted:

Check out my feeeeet!

Henna designs are made on hands and feet using a brown, thick liquid. You must wait for the liquid to dry and crack, then rub it off. The design stains on your skin in an orange color and lasts for an amount of time that I cannot attest to yet.

Another big part of Eid is mishti (meesh-tee). Isn't that a fun word to say? Someone here has already claimed it as their first cat's name. Mishti are Bangladeshi sweets, made almost purely from ghee (clarified butter) and sugar/honey, and then fried. There are lots of different types of different colors, but not much flavor variation. Mmm the taste of pure fat. This further confirms my scientific hypothesis that every country has its delicious donut!

In the first week here I accidentally bought ONE KILO of a certain type of mishti. The bag contained so many that it lasted in my fridge for about two weeks, even though I shared with eight girls openly. Oh, the deliciousness of cultural miscommunication. Biting down into a mishti is always a gooey, oozey, decadent experience. Mishti stores in Chittagong outnumber Starbucks in Seattle. They are in my face, all the time, and super cheap. Luckily it's (usually) too much pure sweetness to eat more than one.

My Bengali downfall

Shopping in a Fishbowl

Shopping illuminates that blending into the background isn't gonna happen for me here. I've run into two differing scenarios:

1. Stores

Bangladeshi stores are never short on staff. It's common to walk by a tiny store and see six men (the public space is largely male-dominated) sitting behind the counter, waiting for a customer to arrive. The selling strategy is much more aggressive than that of most places in the States, or you could say they feel passionately about customer service!

I've gotten alot of "special attention," no doubt because I am a foreigner. On one solo grocery shopping trip, an attendant literally followed me around the store while I shopped so that he would always be on hand to help. At Khulshi Mart, the store across the street from my apartment, the fruit section attendees (all 5 of them) always offer their assistance with alacrity. They smile when they see me, pick out ripe fruit for me, try to communicate how to eat it, and then assist me in weighing it.

Beautiful dragon fruit, purchased with the assistance of my friends at Khulshi Mart

On a recent shopping trip to a mall to purchase a comforter (for that hard bed!), the men laid out every choice for me, made suggestions, and allowed me to step up on the display - pretty sure this is something that is actually not permitted. I have never seen more smiles than when I committed to buying something.

I always try to graciously accept this attention with a grin and say "dondobad" (thank you). I certainly appreciate it, but I also already miss my shopping autonomy.

Update: Just ventured to Khulshi Mart and scored a free dust pan from some of the workers! I love free stuff, thus I'm liking this excessive customer service more now!

2. Bazaars 

I used to call the end-of-semester outdoor markets at USC "bazaars" and them cats would laugh at me! Now I'm laughing at myself. I had no idea.

I'm sure a Bangladeshi native has a completely different perception of bazarring. But to me, a bazaar in the most densely populated country in the world involves almost pushing myself through dense, animated crowds and over muddy pathways while completing losing all sense of direction and location. If I knew how to say "excuse me" in Bangla I'd need to say it constantly. There is stall after stall selling clothing, household wares, shoes, and fabrics...beautiful things, but everything starts to look the same. The vendors yell "hey sister" at our group on repeat and the stares and gawking don't end. My favorite part is that when I enter a stall to look at one thing, the vendor always pushes an alternative suggestion of what to purchase. So far I've been offered a number of sparkly, flimsy tank tops while searching for culturally appropriate tops and bottoms. Major LOL.

Haggling here is hard! Usually I enjoy a good barter, but I've been unsuccessful at reducing the "marked up for Westerners price" by more than 10 taka. Hopefully I'll lose the newbie look and get better at it, but realistically I know that is unlikely. It is frustrating to know that I am always paying higher prices.

Another major aspect of weaving through markets is that beggars inevitably follow us around, some persistently and aggressively. A recent low point was thinking to myself that I needed to walk faster to lose a man with a cane who had been on the pursuit for 15 minutes. I felt terrible thinking it, and I feel even more terrible writing it here. Children also constantly chase us and tap us and sometimes even grab us to ask for money. It is only when a local tells them to stop that they do. In baby taxis people have surrounded our vehicle when we're stopped in traffic, poked their hands inside, and touched us while staring and asking aggressively for money. It can be very unsettling.

I'm tepid in putting these events and my thoughts on this topic into print. Seeing such terrible poverty all around me is obviously quite difficult emotionally, and I aim not to sound glib or insensitive when describing it here.  One especially hard part is that we've been advised not to give to people on the streets - it's unsustainable, the money often is taken from the children and given to a ringleader, and it can also compromise our safety by drawing the attention of many more people who could swarm us. But being in these situations has been heartbreaking, amplified by the feeling of not being able to do anything. I understand that people here have the perception that Westerners have alot of money, and in many ways they are absolutely correct, even though the members of my group are all on a small volunteer stipend. I wonder what these people think of me and my friends when we refuse their outstretched hands. I'm planning to start carrying around small amounts of food to offer instead of Taka. But if any of my dear readers have any insight on the subject, please pass the wisdom along.

Pausing in a courtyard for a short break on a harried bazaar trip

Chittagong days and nights

By day there are no pauses on the streets of Chittagong. I must look both ways before crossing the street but understand there will never be an actually safe time to venture. I must mentally commit to Just GO. To successfully navigate to a destination one must squeeze their body into nothingness and skillfully (and quickly) creep around rickshaws, in front of swift-moving vans and baby taxis with an agenda, and along the side of men toting cows sporting a peculiar sharp hump. 

A bird's eye view of the mayhem below.

 Starting at sunset, when fasting breaks, the streets thin out for a glorious couple hours. The people, vehicles, and animals are all still there, but they are organized in clusters, gathered around small lights to share a meal. When Ramadan ends next week I will miss this time of peace and soft-light beauty

Lovely Iftar

Impossibly beautiful

Rickshaw stylin'

My only prior experience with rickshaws before coming here was watching the Seinfeld episode featuring Kramer's harebrained scheme to have homeless men in NYC drive them. The men ride off on the rickshaws...and never come back. Remember, Seinfeld fans? It's one of my laugh out loud favorites.

Fast forward to the here and now, and a rickshaw is my preferred (and only) form of free time transportation in Chittagong, just as a muumuu was my preferred (and only) form of formal dress in Kosrae. We haven't had much free time recently, though, so I've only been on one rickshaw ride so far. But now that I've gotten over the slight intimidation factor, I am excited to embrace what will likely be lots of wild rides! It is an odd experience to have a man smaller than yourself using pure physical exertion to pull you up hills...and get off and actually push you...we definitely weigh more than the average Bangladeshis. Especially when telling the Rickshawala (driver) where to go, directing him, and asking him to stop are all uncertainties. The only Bangla I know is "My name is Helen. I am from America." Working on it.

We've ridden the rickshaws two by two. Three American girls would be too many. You and your riding buddy share a short seat that's above the driver and must keep your bag between your legs. And watch out:  You don't want to fall out of the sides! (A real possibility.)

A rickshaw ride from our apartments to school (about 15-20 minutes) costs roughly 25 Taka...that's about 30 American cents. I know, right?! But it's easy to think of things as "cheap" here, when it's not the case for Bangladeshis.

One thing about rickshaws that I did not expect is how stylish they are! The back of each rickshaw is decorated with unique art:

It's never hard to grab one. 

Looking over the  rickshawala's head onto the crazy Chittagong streets. 

And finally, some more about transportation. Check out this bus:

Riding in class

We rode that big baby on a field trip with the students this week. Inside the seats are green, with three on one side of the the row and two on the other. Snazzy!

Tomorrow (Friday) begins the weekend. Nope, it's not a holiday - that's just how they do it here. Since Friday is the day of community prayer for Muslims, Friday and Saturday are the weekend and Sunday starts the work week. My brain is still figuring it all out. Onward to a real bazaar (big outside market) tomorrow! My field director said it's right out of Aladdin!

Ramadan from the ground

Food has been one of the highlights of my Bengali experience so far, but most of the people around me are not eating or drinking (even water!) from sunrise to sunset. Ramadan is in full swing, giving me the opportunity to experience something quite unknown to those Catholic parts from which I come. Luckily I gained some basis in Islamic traditions through my world history teachings last year in Kosrae, but witnessing it gives new meaning.

Ramadan is one month long (we are more than halfway through now) and is the most sacred month of the Islamic calendar, commemorating the prophet Muhammad's receiving of revelations. It ends in a 3-day celebration called Eid that is full of foooood and gatherings, by my marginal understanding. Naturally, I am excited for this. After Eid Chittagong will return to its normal state, aka crazier, although shops are PACKED right now as people buy food and clothing for Eid.

We Western folk are eating normally but trying to curtail eating and drinking in public to be respectful. Even abstaining from my usual gulps of water during some long lectures with the students has proven difficult! I can't imagine what an adjustment it is for the Muslim students here and especially for Olympians.

Muslims wake up very early to eat and then break the fast at sunset with Iftar. This is a large meal starting always with three dates and, in my experience, including many delicious Bengali treats. Last night we volunteers attended a lovely Iftar hosted by AUW's vice chancellor. Evidence here:

The tables set just for us! (I chose the pink table of course.)

Mingling

Preparing to nom with some great fellow WorldTeachers

The initial plate - see the dates? The squiggly thing is a type of Bangladeshi mishti - sweets.
Deep fried, honey filled, and super sweet goodness. There is also fruit and some other fried concoctions.

Checking out the AUW stage

And finally, here's a gem we spotted from the van a few nights ago and went to explore. Who wouldn't want their wedding driveway to look like this?!

Bengali beauty! 

Scenes from Chittagong

"There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women." - Madeline Albright

I'm Chittagong living and feeling pretty good! I'm going to break down here some of the nuances of my brand new Bangladeshi life:

Apartment:
The living situation is pretty darn great! All the volunteers live in threes in a building in the Khulshi neighborhood of Chittagong. Ours is huge (built originally for a Bangladeshi family) and fairly modern, and we each have our own bedroom and bathroom (mine did not come with a squat toilet, luckily!). There are some quirks of course like a rock hard bed and things that need to be fixed, my HOT WATER  :( :( for one. But I am so thankful to have A/C in my bedroom as well as my own balcony that overlooks a rooftop garden. Said rooftop garden does have some loud chickens, but I guess it reminds me of life in Kosrae. There is an elevator to bring us up and down - apparently the frequent power outages here will guarantee that I will be stuck inside at least once - as well as a 24-hour security guard. We are living pretty much like princesses in these surroundings, thanks WorldTeach!

The Volunteers:
There are eight other WT volunteers here with me in addition to a field director. These women are awesome. Everyone is extremely nice, intelligent, worldly, and thoughtful and has a vested interest in being here to work with the students. I am confident I will have some more amazing friends after this year.

The City:
I have never been in a place that is ANYTHING like this, and it is really impossible to describe what it feels like. I'm going to use lots of caps here. It is CRAZY and overwhelming to be on the streets but so incredible to be surrounded by so much vibrancy. Bangladesh is the most densely populated country in the world, something that is extremely apparent as soon as I step out of my calm apartment. There are tons of people, rickshaws, buses, and CNG's (small taxis) rushing by, and absolutely no order to it all. I've even seen some cows in the mix. Crossing the street is always a harrowing adventure, and one that I have always completed successfully - SO FAR. Carts and small markets selling delicious-looking fruit, food, and other goods line streets that are covered in water, mud, and trash. I definitely will be coming home with some ratty shoes! The street bustle is accompanied by many LOUD noises - shouting, honking, etc. Walking the streets ignites all the senses, and also involves confronting many beggars, many of whom are small children. I want to help when I see such extreme poverty and need, but it is difficult to know what to do. I'm sure these feelings and experiences will be a defining aspect of my year.

When we're out and about the people stare at us, not in a way that is rude but rather understandably curious: Chittagong does not get many foreign visitors, and so a gaggle of girls yields alot of local fascination. Respect is the most important principle for the people here, and everyone I have interacted with so far has been extremely helpful and kind, minus a few sketchballs. I also really enjoy seeing all the colorful street fashions and can't wait to purchase my own shalwar kameez this weekend. Every trip on the streets is an experience, one that is still a bit overwhelming now, but something I know I will master in time.

Asian University for Women:
This is the reason why I'm here. AUW occupies a compound of several tall buildings in the city, about a 10-minute ride from our apartments. Each morning a van picks us up and then brings us home at the end of the day.

I am being brainwashed with feminism here and soaking it up. Right now we are observing/note-taking at the Women in Public Service Project Institute. AUW was selected to be the first host of this State Department and the Seven Sisters colleges initiative that is aiming to provide training and encouragement to Asian women to be more active in public service. Yep, this is the perfect place for that! In the past two days I have been BLOWN AWAY by the intelligence, eloquence (in a foreign language!), and critical thinking abilities of these women. Select AUW students were invited to attend, including 12 new students from Afghanistan. It has been so inspiring to hear these women speak about their backgrounds and dreams as well as brainstorm practical solutions to the world's problems facing women. I am so excited to get into the classroom with them! Reason of being here definitely reinforced. I seriously have chills/start to tear up pretty much every time one of them gets up to speak. Probably gonna need to learn how to curtail that.


FOOD
Now on to the GUD stuff. We are provided lunch and dinner everyday at AUW's student cafeteria, and I'm lovin' it. Every meal has perfectly-made naan or a tortilla-like bread plus rice and then lots of delicious local or Asian-influenced dishes. Last night's vegetable curry was sublime. Some of the girls are having a bit of a problem with the spice, but not me! We also have a great grocery store right across the street from our apartment building - KHULSHI MART. This will be my go-to this year, and they have a good selection of local as well as imported foods. Getting my diet coke fix will not be a problem. I've also bought some random things like tamarind juice, vegetable samosas, SPICY chili barbecue snack mix, plum nuts (?), white apples, and a spiky green vegetable that I thought was a fruit. Grocery shopping and sampling here is fun.

Dats all for now folks! I'll try to get some pictures up in the next couple days, but I didn't want to make this the longest post evah. For now, I'm counting down to dinner and looking forward to my 8PM bedtime...woo hoo jet lag!

Breaking the Asia dry spell

After 3 years of going without some ASUH living I broke the spell with a glorious day in Hong Kong en route to Bangladesh. It was the greatest day that almost wasn't - twice. The first hiccup came with a terrible typhoon that hit the island last week, threatening to make me change da plans. The second came because a stupid, stupid and very groggy me misplaced my oh-so-important travel notebook containing my PASSPORT and Bangladesh visa pretty much as soon as I made it to the HK airport. Those two hours were among the most stressful of my young life, but ultimately some very friendly airport staffers and police saved the day. Whew! I'm legally in Bangladesh now, so all is good.

One day in HK certainly wasn't enough, but I got a great taste (literally) of what is now one of my fave cities. I will be back!

Nightmare passport situation resolved, I ventured into 7-ELEVEN and bought a delicious milk tea, the first  of three that day. I lived off of milk tea and 7-ELEVEN visits in Taiwan, and it brought back some food-centric memories. I was giddy.

Back to the ole' stomping grounds!

I then took a speedy train into the city, hopped on the very efficient MTR, and hopped off to see the beautiful Victoria Harbor and skyline - stunning. I got on a Star Ferry (THE tourist thing to do, and I don't claim to be a local) and crossed the harbor. Hong Kong certainly is a looker.

Checking out da view

By that point I was famished and decided it was time for DIM SUM. Naturally I had done lots of research on the best places to eat and found a great eatery inside a shopping mall. I made a fool of myself ordering way too many dumplings and then trying to pawn off the extras on the girls sitting next to me - they didn't bite.

This place is known for their fried pork bun. Too much!

Next I moved on to another tourist essential - Victoria Peak. I took a looong city bus ride up a circuitous road to get to the top and was rewarded with lovely, lovely views of Hong Kong island.

Some adorable fellow tourists

Cat on top of the world!

Up til' this point I had spent my time only in the upscale, everything-looks-like-a-shopping-mall part of Hong Kong, and I was ready for some Asia grit. I took the MTR to the MongKok neighborhood and whiled away the rest of the day wandering through flower, bird, and fish markets and ending at the Ladies Market, home to the world's best street hawkers and some really fun wares. Everything was so crowded and so busy, even moreso than Taipei, and I thrived in it. Lots of street food was consumed, naturally, as well as some exotic fruits.

FISH BALLS

Street food mania

I was bummed I couldn't take any flowers with me

A crazy, and somewhat weird, amount of birds plus
some hungry feral pigeons.

And the exotic fruit tasting begins! This is Rambutan -  covered in hairs and
with a white juicy flesh inside. I liked!

Fruitttt

My first ripe mangosteen - the queen of fruits, finally!

I ended the glorious day with some low-priced beauty services (amazing massage for my super sore luggage-toting shoulders and the obligatory pedicure) followed by a great bowl of fish ball noodle soup. I got off the MTR at a random stop and walked into a restaurant and asked to be served something "good." The waiter brought me a tiny fork but I impressed with my chopstick skills - JOKES.

More balls of fish in a delicious soup

Full, feet tired, and with an Asia-fixed heart I boarded my flight to Dhaka. BANGLADESH updates to come - this place is indescribably different and crazy, but so incredible!