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.
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.
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 |
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 |
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