Posh Life is speeding along! The workers have been working hard and things are coming together. The rate at which things are getting done HAS picked up, when I look back to 3 weeks ago and arriving here. I am glad today is Friday, as this means I can start working on getting apartment 2C more inhabitable.
Last night we got a fun night on the town. We went to the Chittagong Club for "Mamma Mia." Now, I have never seen this musical, but I know of it. And of course I know Abba. We all knew going into it that it could be mediocre, scary, or just plan terrible. In the end, we were delighted.
Walking into the big room with tulle dripping from every inch was like returning to high school prom. It was pretty--we just all prayed that nobody came anywhere near the decorations with a lit cigarette. It took a while for the night to get started--but that's normal. The show wasn't really a musical--it was just two good singers and a good band singing Abba songs. In the beginning there were some interspersed recorded plot explanations, but about half-way through those stopped. I have no idea if it followed the original plot, but it was fun all the same.
In the middle of the show, our friend Jill in Admissions was pulled up on stage to assist with "Dancing Queen." Zelda, Michelle's daughter, headed up to help her out and they had a rockin' time. Our table had fun cheering them on and dancing in our chairs. After the dancing, Jill had well-wishers stopping by the table to deposit bottles of wine, as well as 40-year-old men asking her to dance. I tried to get her autograph, but she was too busy dealing with fans.
After dinner (around 10:30 pm, I think) we were treated to some dancing music. We couldn't believe it! The teachers (who have been here almost 16 + months) said they have NEVER had this happen in Chittagong. We hit the dance floor en masse and got some good exercise. Now, when I say "hit the dance floor," I mean it in both a literal and figurative way. The dance floor (a space marked off by tule taped to the tile floor) was covered in powder of some sort. I have still not determined what the purpose of this was. At first I thought it was so if you took your shoes off to dance, it would be to prevent foot odor or any sort of transmission of foot disease. But I noticed that nobody took their shoes off. So the only purpose of the powder was to discourage people from dancing--it didn't work--and to endanger the lives of both young and old. A few people wiped out once, and after that moved out of the powdered square to dance, or recognized their bodies limitations and took it easy while breaking it down.
The band finished with "Thriller" (I was so happy) and then the dj came on with what appeared to be rave music from the 1990's. Either way, our ears were pounding and we were shouting to hear each other when we left at midnight. I'm still trying to recover my equilibrium and hearing this morning.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Emergencies and Excursions
It's been a busy week!
I'm on call a bit, as there are things that come up.
I did get out and about this week. Here are some photos of my culinary discoveries and some excursions:
http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis/SecondWeekInBDJune2009#
Some teachers at the Access Academy (the program preparing students for their undergraduate studies) met a man who teaches at a Madrasah (a religious or secular school). He invited them to his school, and I came along. Here's a video of the boys and teacher singing for us:
I'm on call a bit, as there are things that come up.
I did get out and about this week. Here are some photos of my culinary discoveries and some excursions:
http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis/SecondWeekInBDJune2009#
Some teachers at the Access Academy (the program preparing students for their undergraduate studies) met a man who teaches at a Madrasah (a religious or secular school). He invited them to his school, and I came along. Here's a video of the boys and teacher singing for us:
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Welcome to Posh Life
Here's me in my salwar kameez. My roomate gave it to me, as she didn't care for it. I'm missing my orna (shawl) to cover my chest. This is the view from the room where I am (temporarily) living. The apartment Kat and I will be moving into is not ready. It currently houses 25 mattresses, 20 boxes of dishes, 10 refrigerators, 15 tvs.... Keep reading to hear more about the apartment saga.So, I've been on the job two days. My, it's been an interesting two days. First, let me explain what I do. I am the "concierge" for a new women's university. My job is to make faculty and staff happy. I am the "go to" person for problems with faculty housing and questions relating to living and working in Bangladesh. I will also help to make sure visitors and guests of the university are happy.
What does this job description mean in the present moment? I am helping to speed along the completion of an apartment complex where the faculty will live. There is no rhyme or reason as to when this building will be finished. It is a very fancy building known as "Panchlaish"--or "Posh Life." The problem is, Posh Life is not yet totally posh. About half of the apartments are occupied, some by soon to be undergraduate faculty and administration, others by outgoing faculty for the preparatory course (preparing the women in English skills for academic study). The other half are being worked on. There is no particular order to the operations (that I know of yet. All may be revealed soon...but I doubt it.) There also was no apparent order to moving people into specific apartments, as there are a litany of problems in each apartment.
Don't get me wrong--I never expected to live in an apartment this posh. It really is top class. But people were moved into (or moved into and then out of) apartments that were not quite finished yet. So my job is now trying to get the apartments totally finished that people are already living in, and to get the ones not yet lived in to a liveable state. Whew!
Yesterday was my first day on the job. I went into work at the main university building and got to meet people. We also had a staff meeting, so I got to put faces to names and positions. Although, to be honest, there are a lot of positions for each name. There are a lot of people that do a lot of things. In some ways, my job is to make things easier for people. But, of course, what is does not always appear to be...meaning, there has been some questioning of just what I am doing here. This is not easy for me to answer, as I am not totally sure. But things are slowly clearing up.
I think I am a glorified micromanager for the time being. (Kat, I know you think I am PERFECT for this task). I am in charge now of making sure stuff gets done. This means acting like an overseer. This means standing in a kitchen where the cabinets need to be cleaned. I point to the cabinets and say "please clean" to the cleaning ladies. I go off to check email at a table, they work, and then come get me for inspection. I open up the cabinets, and there are piles of dirt inside the cabinets--I had not specifically indicated that the INSIDES of the cabinets needed to be cleaned. So they come in to correct that. Then I point out that the shelves below the cabinets haven't been cleaned. And before letting them correct that, I think ahead and look below the counters to see...more uncleaned cabinets. You see where I am going with this. Eventually ALL the kitchen cabinets got cleaned. But it took a while. I think next time I will pull out my "Mr. Brasso" (= Windex) and muslin grocery bag (they don't use plastic bags here--the muslin bags work great as cleaning rags) and go to town myself.
In the course of two days I have had two people's internet fixed, two doorbells installed, had a washing machine moved to a bathroom and installed, had another washing machine installed, have had putty put on toilet bases (to stop bad smells--I realize that's not gonna stop the problem), and am on the trail of missing keys. This is BIG stuff. It is very interesting, too, realizing that here is this white woman in a salwar kameez telling 5 or 6 men (all working on one thing at a time--multitasking is a foreign concept) what to do, standing nearby while it's being done, then checking the final product to make sure it's ok.
When I get some time, I will make a list and check off my accomplishments. For the time being, I am too busy making more lists of things that need to be repaired and checked on, and trying to figure out just who it is that I am supposed to contact to have the things done...
Photos are at: http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Goin' to the BD
I got here 2 days ago and am catching up on sleep, albeit still feeling a bit groggy.
I stopped
in London on my way to Bangladesh and got to hang out with Will, of old yor
e. We walked along the river Thames--retracing the steps of Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman in "Last Chance Harvey" (which I watched on the plane the next day). I had fish and chips, cider, and got to "mind the gap" on the tube. The Queen is doing well.
They pulled me and other foreigners from the line in Doha, Qatar and told us the plane was full and they were moving us up. So, I flew FIRST CLASS from Doha to Dhaka, Bangladesh. I got champagne, Brunello wine, fancy dinner, and LEG ROOM! I even had a cappuccino on our descent. I felt so darn spoiled.
In Dhaka I was met by a soldier with my name printed on paper. He walked me through immigration, helped me get my luggage, got me through security (well, I told them I was from America and they didn't even scan my luggage). Then we had to wait a while to check in for my flight from Dhaka to Chittagong. In the course of 2 1/2 hours, my soldier friend had other friends come over, while he went "around" (patrol). I don't speak Bengali and none of them spoke much English, so they passed the time by staring and smiling at me. Eventually it was time to go to the waiting room to get on the plane. I was directed to a curtained space, where a woman soldier surveyed me with a baton. When my flight was called, I tried to say thank you in Bengali ("dhonnobad"), but my soldier friends looked at me like I was crazy. I resorted to the English version, and boarded a rickety bus to head out to the runway.
There were a lot of people involved with getting me checked in for the flight, getting my luggage sorted out, and getting me on the plane. There were at least 15 people standing on the tarmack as we were loading our flight. They had me point to my luggage as I got on the plane, then they loaded it.
The small plane from Dhaka to Chittagong was like those little US Airways jets from Manhattan to Kansas City. In fact, I think it WAS one of those planes. They finish with them in the US, then send them overseas. Not reassuring. I mentally crossed myself about 15 times on the flight. Luckily, we landed ok and all my luggage was in tact.
NOTHING prepared me for the traffic here. The two drivers that have driven me around thus far deserve merit awards. But they are like everyone else in being able to navigate traffic with huge Japanese trucks, small 3 wheeled taxis ("baby taxis"), and rickshaws, plus people walking and mopeds...There is NO ORDER at all. Honking is constant. I had to close my eyes while coming home from the airport as I was sure either the mirrors were going to be ripped off or my stay in Bangladesh would be cut short thanks to a barreling Hino truck with 10 people hanging off the back of it. Luckily, I'm alive. I have no idea how the cars and rickshaws get SO CLOSE to each other, yet aren't completely banged up. Not that the cars are in that great of shape. I'm thinking the driving here makes Nascar look like a walk in the park.
Once we finally arrived at the Access Academy (which prepares students for the university program, starting in August), I got some lunch and a tour. Then I was zipped off to the guest house. Comfortable. And the caretaker--Shaidah--was very nice. I went to bed at 2:30pm when I got there, woke up at 7pm to eat. Then back to bed from 8pm until midnight. Woke up and was really disoriented. Then went back to bed, back up at 4:30 am. Dozed a bit, got up to read a bit and write in my journal, fell back asleep, woke back up at 7 am.
Dinner that night was interesting. Okra of some sort, chicken, a ground coconut dish, and a chapati (can I call it a Bangladeshi tortilla?). The chicken was WELL done and the okra had a mucas-like texture to it. It didn't taste bad, but the appearance threw me off. The reddish coconut dish was good. I foresee myself eating a lot of fruit.
Photos are at: http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis
I stopped
in London on my way to Bangladesh and got to hang out with Will, of old yor
e. We walked along the river Thames--retracing the steps of Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman in "Last Chance Harvey" (which I watched on the plane the next day). I had fish and chips, cider, and got to "mind the gap" on the tube. The Queen is doing well.
They pulled me and other foreigners from the line in Doha, Qatar and told us the plane was full and they were moving us up. So, I flew FIRST CLASS from Doha to Dhaka, Bangladesh. I got champagne, Brunello wine, fancy dinner, and LEG ROOM! I even had a cappuccino on our descent. I felt so darn spoiled.In Dhaka I was met by a soldier with my name printed on paper. He walked me through immigration, helped me get my luggage, got me through security (well, I told them I was from America and they didn't even scan my luggage). Then we had to wait a while to check in for my flight from Dhaka to Chittagong. In the course of 2 1/2 hours, my soldier friend had other friends come over, while he went "around" (patrol). I don't speak Bengali and none of them spoke much English, so they passed the time by staring and smiling at me. Eventually it was time to go to the waiting room to get on the plane. I was directed to a curtained space, where a woman soldier surveyed me with a baton. When my flight was called, I tried to say thank you in Bengali ("dhonnobad"), but my soldier friends looked at me like I was crazy. I resorted to the English version, and boarded a rickety bus to head out to the runway.
There were a lot of people involved with getting me checked in for the flight, getting my luggage sorted out, and getting me on the plane. There were at least 15 people standing on the tarmack as we were loading our flight. They had me point to my luggage as I got on the plane, then they loaded it.
The small plane from Dhaka to Chittagong was like those little US Airways jets from Manhattan to Kansas City. In fact, I think it WAS one of those planes. They finish with them in the US, then send them overseas. Not reassuring. I mentally crossed myself about 15 times on the flight. Luckily, we landed ok and all my luggage was in tact.
NOTHING prepared me for the traffic here. The two drivers that have driven me around thus far deserve merit awards. But they are like everyone else in being able to navigate traffic with huge Japanese trucks, small 3 wheeled taxis ("baby taxis"), and rickshaws, plus people walking and mopeds...There is NO ORDER at all. Honking is constant. I had to close my eyes while coming home from the airport as I was sure either the mirrors were going to be ripped off or my stay in Bangladesh would be cut short thanks to a barreling Hino truck with 10 people hanging off the back of it. Luckily, I'm alive. I have no idea how the cars and rickshaws get SO CLOSE to each other, yet aren't completely banged up. Not that the cars are in that great of shape. I'm thinking the driving here makes Nascar look like a walk in the park.
Once we finally arrived at the Access Academy (which prepares students for the university program, starting in August), I got some lunch and a tour. Then I was zipped off to the guest house. Comfortable. And the caretaker--Shaidah--was very nice. I went to bed at 2:30pm when I got there, woke up at 7pm to eat. Then back to bed from 8pm until midnight. Woke up and was really disoriented. Then went back to bed, back up at 4:30 am. Dozed a bit, got up to read a bit and write in my journal, fell back asleep, woke back up at 7 am.
Dinner that night was interesting. Okra of some sort, chicken, a ground coconut dish, and a chapati (can I call it a Bangladeshi tortilla?). The chicken was WELL done and the okra had a mucas-like texture to it. It didn't taste bad, but the appearance threw me off. The reddish coconut dish was good. I foresee myself eating a lot of fruit.
Photos are at: http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis
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