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! 

It's all about the girls

I've been reading Nicholas Kristof's Half the Sky while attempting to pack for yet another year-long adventure away. And getting very, very excited. In under two weeks I'll be in Bangladesh preparing to work with some amazing women from all over Asia. I can't stop saying/thinking how lucky I feel to have been given this opportunity.


My time in Louisiana has been full of food, friends, family, and doctor's visits. I'm now vaccinated against rabies, Japanese encephalitis, and adult polio and will have 330 malaria pills in tow. Those skeeters love me, so I'm just hoping for the best with that one. 


Packing this time around has me a bit more stressed out because this year, in a Muslim country, what I look like will be very important. I know that I will never fully blend in (not even close!) but I have to try. 


In Bangladesh the customary dress for women is called a "shalwar kameez." It's a three-piece set consisting of loose pants, a long baggy tunic, and a scarf worn around the neck. I'll be able to have some made when I get to Chittagong, but I've also scoured NOLA thrift stores for appropo options to bring with. It's kind of been like costume shopping for real life. My sister: "I hate it...but I think it's the best you can do."


But of course really it's not what I'll be wearing but what I'll be doing that's going to make this year probably the most interesting of my 24 years. Oops, expectations much?! It's hard not to have any when I have consistently heard that the women at this university will be the brightest, most motivated, and hardest working students I will ever meet. They come from 13 countries, and many from underprivileged backgrounds, to converge there. And in 12 days I'll be there too :)

Every time I tried to tell you the words just came out wrong

On this lazy Sunday in Kosrae I stumbled across my own blog and got lost in its words.

It's been 8 months now, but I so want to be back in the game!  Whatever created my blog ennui has quietly left my system, and I hope to start writing again. I plan this summer to sit down with some diet coke and a shrimp po-boy and record some of my important Kosraen experiences and upload pictures. Nine months on this 42 square mile island has been wonderful and challenging and frustrating and sometimes all three at the same time. See the story I posted below, for which I won a free dinner! There's so much more to say, and I hope to say it.

We now have only 6 teaching days left at the high school and I'll be boarding a flight back to the United States in one month. This burned out teacher is ready to be done in so many ways, but I also know that parting with this island will bring some sorrow. Then it's on to trips in Hawaii and California before five weeks in Louisiana. 

Then...BANGLADESH. Yes, Helen of Troy will continue her wandering for one more year. I am surprised, too! 

http://www.worldteach.org/site/c.buLRIbNOIbJ2G/b.6179905/k.A6D9/Program_Profile.htm

How amazing does this sound? I.am.so.excited.

She Stole My Heartz

In a place full of dogs that are trained to bark, chase, and bite, Heartz was a nice dog. There was never a “tiok” necessary when she came ‘round. OK, she bit Sam once, but that’s probably because Sam was especially afraid of dogs. They can always tell.

Heartz was the best kind of dog. She lived across the street and found me on the back porch at least once a day, looking for nothing but some sweet petting. I didn’t need to feed her, walk her, or clean up after her messes. I never had to take her to the vet, which is a good thing because I’m pretty sure Kosrae doesn’t have one. She was the oh so happy recipient of my American craving for the human-domesticated animal relationship. I have a miniature dachshund at home, and Heartz filled the weenie-shaped hole in my heart. Contentment was decidedly mutual during these daily petting/belly rubbing sessions, hers demonstrated through deep dopey eyes and a tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth just so. She would hang around for a while and then bounce cheerfully away to continue doing whatever dogs do.

Heartz’s “real” name was Choko, but finding that harsh and unsuitable for such a happy canine, I decided to perform a name transformation. Using my gift for nomenclature - and the fact that she had two large brown heart-shaped markings on her back - Choko became Heartz. I liked to think that on the rare occasion that Heartz was a naughty dog she was briefly stepping into her alter-ego Choko. But most of the time she was a Heartz, and all the delightful things such a name implies.

About a month into Heartz’s and my relationship, Hudson Edwin (our landlord and the “old man,” as every local, including his son, calls him) brought joyous news: Heartz was pregnant! “You can tell by the titties,” he said. Oh happy day! My mind filled with the excited anticipation of lots of mini-Heartzes tubbing around the yard. With the temperament and cuteness of their lovin’ mama, the pups were sure to be my fast friends.

Towards the end of her pregnancy Heartz disappeared for a few days - no bounding into the yard, no sneaking into the house – and we grew worried. Both Peter and I had heard stories about the fate of some dogs in Kosrae - endings that involved a car, a hammer, or an underground oven. But a quick trip across the street confirmed our girl was still kicking. The Edwins had tied her up to protect her from scheming neighborhood kids, who had done something ungentlemanly to her foot. As we approached her ring of captivity, Heartz reared up in recognition. Her eyes shone brightly and her tail wagged wildly as she again clamored for our attention. Sigh of relief.

Eventually Heartz was let to roam free once more, and we shared many more afternoons on the porch. She, unsurprisingly, loved those days when we gutted fish outside. She shared in Peter’s and my excitement about our first big tuna purchase (fish had been scarce on the island for the first few months), hanging around and begging for just one scrap.

Finally it was time: Heartz gave birth in the stealth of the night, bringing six little ones into the world, an even three boys and three girls. Peter and I found her the next day near a pile of garbage in the Edwins’ side yard. Just four pups remained by that point – two of the boys had quickly died – but nevertheless Heartz appeared a glowing mother. We held our breaths and crouched to gaze in wonderment at the four little blind rats pressed up against her for nourishment and warmth. OK, so they weren’t exactly cute at that point.

Heartz seemed happy to have our company until I stepped on a piece of broken mirror – she had made her nest in garbage, after all. The craaack set her on guard, and she growled at us for the first time ever. What the heck, Heartz? But my weenie dog’s stint with motherhood had taught me such aggression was not a referendum on her affection for me. I continued visiting often, watching the pups grow into their cuteness.

Around that time another volunteer told us how his family’s “pet” dog was unceremoniously whacked on the head early one morning and served for dinner that night. “Everyone here eats dog,” he told us. “No dog is safe.” I should have recognized the foreshadowing happening in my own story, but my Heartz was special. You know what’s coming.

As her children got fatter and fatter in the next few weeks, Heartz became more and more gaunt. She finally felt comfortable enough to leave the nest yet again to bound across the street for some American love, ribs exposed but otherwise the same lovely Heartz. I figured the puppies were suckling all of her nourishment away. One puppy in particular was much fatter than she should be, and I named her Tubs and silently resented her ever-increasing weight. I wondered why the Edwins did not feed Heartz more. Then…

Heartz again stopped coming ‘round. Peter and I finally decided to bite the bullet and ask about her whereabouts once again, with a bit more trepidation this time. We found a woman in the backyard of Hudson’s house (his wife? I’m really not sure of everyone who lives there, or really in any house here) who immediately told us that Choko was dead. She brought her hands up to her face and moved her lips up and down in a chewing motion. Choko, my Heartz, had been killed to be eaten. I turned away and began to cry. The woman told Peter that she, too, had recognized what a special dog Heartz was. I did not understand.

Dogs in Kosrae wear many hats. They are guards, attackers of bikers, pets, and in many cases eventually food for their families. My struggle came in applying one identity – loved pet – to a dog that I did love. I don’t want to be the American girl crying over something that is normal, even expected, here. I understand their culture is different than my own. But I do still miss my heart-marked girl.

One of Heartz’s pups still lives across the street. She is fat, fluffy, and white. I wanted to name her Snowflake. But I think it’s best to watch from afar, to allow her to keep her Kosraen name and her Kosraen identity.

Picture time!

After two months and several polite "reminders," finally here is some photographic evidence of my time so far in Micronesia. More to come, barring my patience (upload time isn't quite what it was in Germany). Enjoy the beauty of Kosrae :)

Overlooking da jungle on an orientation hike

The Sleeping Lady mountain in her sun-lit glory

Mandatory tropical beach shot. There are some pretty darn nice ones here.

The back porch area of Peter's and my cute, yet termite-infested, home on the water

Our loveliest of lovely view from the porch

Sunset view

Kosrae High School, my place of employment from 8:30am-1:40pm Monday-Friday

My geography and world history classroom. Check out that map!

The classroom looking uncharacteristically tidy and with a "hominid" display. This teacher has had to brush up on her human evolution facts.

The WorldTeach group in front of a colorful tree deep in da Micronesian jungle

It's traditional basket weaving time!

Sarah and I under a waterfall

Hullo! (See Sleeping Lady mountain in the background)

With Sam on one of Kosrae's beaches

Lizzy and I rocking the muumuus on Gospel Day

Paddling (trying) a canoe during the Liberation Day celebrations. I was  on the Seasider team - see the green?

Lizzy, Christina, and I showing off our laundry detergent winnings at the Liberation Day Games