A Kansan in Bangladesh

Signing Off

2010-07-22T09:14:00.012+06:00

I returned to Kansas almost two months ago and have been surprised by how quickly I am adapting to life here. I have been surprised by the ease with which I have shifted gears. Everyone has been so kind here. They say, "You must be dealing with such intense culture shock after a year in Bangladesh." My blunt response to these sympathies takes me back to third grade when folks would tell me, "It's not your fault your parents are divorcing." I would respond, "I know it's not my fault! Why do you keep saying that to me?"

Yes, I am dealing with some degree of adjustment issues; but it's not Bangladesh itself that has me grasping to analyze and define my experience. I felt significantly more culture shock after returning to the United States after living in Spain and Italy and a two month stint in Guatemala. I think this reaction (or lack thereof) has a lot to do with the fact that I did not want to come home from those other places. After a year at the Asian University for Women in Bangladesh, however, I was physically, emotionally, and mentally prepared to return home.

No, it's not American excess or the ease of living and getting around that has me feeling unstable. I don't find myself berating myself or others for eating fast food, driving big cars, or being uninformed. Instead, I have turned my energies toward appreciating my freedoms and privileges more than ever. Sure, I don't like giving the government a lot of my money, but I do appreciate having access to water I can drink, roads I can drive on, sewers that are covered, reliable mail service, and a clean, safe health clinic I can go to while I'm waiting to get a job. For the most part, as an American woman, I can go to school where I want, wear what I want, say what I want, work where I want, get married/be single/date if I want. I am privy to possibilities that are very different from what the majority of university students, former colleagues, and friends in Bangladesh--men and women--are allowed. Forgive me if this smacks of being overly optimistic or idealistic--I do realize that America has it's problems and it's not a utopia. But I must say that right now, I feel sincerely blessed to be an American woman in America.

As you can see, I'm still trying to get my bearings and process an intense year at a start-up university in a third world country. This process has given me a better perspective on my life as a young female American worker. I better understand the purpose of hierarchy, governance, management, due process, and checks and balances. I see how creativity and entrepreneurial skills flourish in the right environment. I see clearly how top-down organizational culture can cripple effort, decision making, and responsibility. I feel like my time at AUW was a crash course in management, infrastructure, and capacity building.

From my comfortable home in Kansas, I better appreciate the power of shared experiences, friendship, laughter, patience, and optimism that surrounded me in Bangladesh. I'm truly thankful to those who keep a noble vision and mission close to their hearts. Onek dhonnobad to my dear friends, co-workers, and believers in Bangladesh and beyond.

Signing off,
Summer Lewis

Feel free to email me if you have questions about living Bangladesh and/or working at the Asian University for Women: summerbclewis@gmail.com

Vincent's Trip Home (accompanied by Summer & Katrina)

2010-06-08T10:39:00.003+06:00

Katrina and I left Bangladesh on May 24 with Vincent the Kitten. The trip ended up taking over 70 hours...

Check out my photo album for photos and details of the journey!

Bangladesh Open House

2010-05-08T20:09:00.005+06:00

I realize that I'm finally sending this after being here almost a year--apologies for the delay. This is the apartment that Katrina and I have shared for the past year. Welcome to 2C in what we call the “Panchlaish Apartment Building!”

Our home in Bangladesh 2C Panchlaish

Chittagong Has Talent

2010-05-08T19:00:00.012+06:00

I was asked by a friend at a local private school, the William Carey Academy, to be the judge for their Middle School Talent Show. At first I thought it would be more like American Idol--luckily, it did not involve (constructive) criticism. Two other respected members of the community and I had to decide on the three top acts from over ten performers.

WCA Middle School Talent Show

Bangladeshi Bob Marley, Waleed Abedin (my co-worker's son):

All the glitter and sequins in Bangladesh

2010-05-08T18:27:00.011+06:00

The other week I uncovered the location of all the glitter, sequins, jingle bells, and shiny material in Bangladesh--at the International Dance Day 2010 Festival of Dance.

This "Celebration of International Dance Day," was hosted by Bangladesh Nrittya Shilpi Shangstha, Chattagram and Alliance Francaise de Chittagong. The Chief Guest was Monsieur Charley Causeret, Ambassador of France to Bangladesh. Laila Hasan, renowned choreographer and dancer and recipient of the Ekushey Padak 2010, was the Special Guest.

Laila Hasan

After about an hour of introductions, speeches, flower sharing, and photo-ops, the dancers got down to business. You may need sunglasses to comfortably view these videos:

AUW 20G 607: Step into my office

2010-05-07T21:31:00.007+06:00

I like to have an inviting office space.

It helps create the illusion for my co-workers that I am a calm, peaceful person.

When I have to deal with asking for the third time to have something done or explained, I shut the door.

You can't hear me yelling over the generator or construction noises literally 3 feet outside of my window.

I like to think of my chairs as therapy couches.

AUW 20G 607 My Office

I'm an auntie!

2010-05-05T16:31:00.003+06:00

Our younger sister Margaret just had her baby! Garrett was born at 5:49 am May 4, Tuesday morning--he is 7 lbs 13 oz, 20 in long. Margaret says his hair appears to be a reddish color-auburn.

It's tough being this far away--but Kat and I are heading home to Kansas in late May. So we'll get to see Marg and baby soon!

My first nephew!

Great hair!

Just like heaven

2010-04-25T20:58:00.012+06:00

I have been making dark chocolate truffles with the dark chocolate baking chocolate Paul E. left me

I just consumed 3 tablespoons of the delicious, rich ganache

it's resting now in the freezer

to be made into little chocolate balls of heaven later tonight

oh, the simple blessings!

The block of dark baking chocolate that Paul Eisenberg
gave me (as compared to a normal-size Ghirardelli chocolate bar)

Time to make the truffles

Dibs on the pan!

The finished product

Link to the vegan dark chocolate truffles recipe (add sugar if using unsweetened baking chocolate)

Sari Glamour Shots

2010-04-21T21:20:00.003+06:00

I told Varuni "I don't wear red." But she said, "this would look so good on you--just try it." So I did. I loved it. And I took some photos (propping up Kat's lovely Lumix camera on a chair):

Summer Sari Apr 2010

And then I went to another event a few days later that required a sari. I borrowed this number from Fabiha. It was FAB! Jill took the photos, and Vince helped out:

Summer Sari Rahimafrooz night

Mighty Kitty

2010-04-21T20:52:00.004+06:00

Mom always asks us via e-mail: "And how is little mighty kitty?"

Well, Mom, here's what Mr. Vincent van Playful is up to:

Come to work with me!

2010-04-20T22:21:00.005+06:00

Come to work with me! This is the route our trusty driver Nur takes us on every morning as we head to AUW:

Meet Nur, our AUW driver:

Saying Goodbye with Shingara

2010-04-18T22:17:00.015+06:00

In my last blog I talked about AUW chef Giaz and his great shingara. We were treated to these delicacies at Dr. Hoon Eng Khoo's farewell party this past week. Hoon Eng, the Provost and acting Vice Chancellor at AUW, was "on loan" her university in Singapore. And it was time for her to return home.

We thank Hoon Eng heartily for her hard work, sense of humor, and energy--may the future be savory!

PS: And thanks to Paul, Hoon Eng's husband, for passing on what must be 10 or more pounds of quality baking chocolate to me!

Chef Giaz serving shingara at Hoon Eng's farewell.

shingara

Hoon Eng and me

Photos of the farewell parties:

Hoon Eng's Farewell at AUW

Hoon Eng's Farewell Lunch at the Chittagong Club

YouTube videos:

Our Head Chef

2010-04-14T14:24:00.007+06:00

Mom sent a "Ft. Riley Fire Safety" oven mitt with us to Bangladesh. and somehow it never got used. So I decided to give it to Giaz, our Head Chef at AUW. Giaz (Muhammad Giasuddin) has worked in many different countries as a chef for the Bangladeshi Army. He is an amazing cook and I am super fond of his shingara (a deep-fried puff-pastry stuffed with seasoned potatoes, common in India and Bangladesh).

Giaz posing with his new oven mitt.
He pointed to the fireman on the mitt and said "that's me!"

And I thought driving in Boston was bad...

2010-04-10T13:16:00.016+06:00

Here's more footage from a CNG (baby taxi) ride in Chittagong. Please note those big trucks run on diesel. Their exhaust pipes are located at the perfect height to spew fumes directly into the CNG. toot toot! beep beep! cough! cough! hack hack!

Check out my other videos at: Summer's YouTube Videos

How was India?

2010-04-09T12:44:00.015+06:00

Hot.
Dusty.
Amazing.

Kat and I just got back from a visit to our friends Michelle, Jim, Zelda and Calvin in Delhi, India.

We were awestruck (and heat-stroked) by the Taj Mahal, the Red Fort, Akbar's Mausoleum, and other monuments in Agra...

We were moved by Ghandi's last footsteps...

We savored amazing naan and paneer tandoori (marinated cheese grilled with vegetables) in a back alley joint and enjoyed an Easter Egg Hunt that yielded perfect material for deviled eggs...

And, of course, we enjoyed spending time with friends in "Incredible India"!

Check out my complete photo album:
India March 31-April 5

2010-03-27T17:58:00.005+06:00

Katrina, Vincent and I weren't in Kansas with Mom to wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY personally, so we improvised...

Love you Mama!

Career Advice

2010-03-20T18:40:00.011+06:00

My friend Jill sent me this article. I read it and thought "wow, this person has never worked an entry-level job!" Granted, I have been told that I must be a real handful as an employee. Either way, see for yourself if any of this advice resonates--or at least have a good laugh.

7 Things Never to Say to Your Boss

Karen Burns, On Wednesday March 17, 2010, 11:19 am EDT

Everyone has a boss. Even if you "work for yourself," you're still an employee to your client.

A big part of maintaining the boss-employee relationship is to never allow a boss to think you dislike your work, are incapable of doing it, or--worse--consider it beneath you.

These sound like no-brainers, but many statements heard commonly around the workplace violate these basic rules. Looking for an example? Here are seven heard in workplaces all the time. They may seem ordinary, even harmless. But try reading these from your boss's point of view. You'll see right away why it's smart to never allow these seven sentences to pass your lips:

"That's not my job." You know what? A lot of bosses are simple souls who think your job is to do what's asked of you. So even if you're assigned a task that is, indeed, not your job, refrain from saying so. Instead, try to find out why your boss is assigning you this task--there may be a valid reason. If you believe that doing the task is a bad idea (as in, bad for the company) you can try explaining why and suggesting how it could be better done by someone else. This may work, depending on the boss. In any case, remember that doing what's asked of you, even tasks outside your job description, is good karma.

"It's not my problem." When people say something is not their problem it makes them look like they don't care. This does not endear them to anybody, especially the boss. If a problem is brewing and you have nothing constructive to say, it's better to say nothing at all. Even better is to pitch in and try to help. Because, ultimately, a problem in the workplace is everyone's problem. We're all in it together.

"It's not my fault." Yet another four words to be avoided. Human nature is weird. Claiming that something is not our fault often has the result of making people suspect it is. Besides, what's the real issue here? It's that something went wrong and needs to be fixed. That's what people should be thinking about--not who is to blame.

"I can only do one thing at a time." News flash: Complaining you are overworked will not make your boss feel sorry for you or go easier on you. Instead, a boss will think: (1) you resent your job, and/or (2) you aren't up to your job. Everybody, especially nowadays, feels pressured and overworked. If you're trying to be funny, please note that some sarcasm is funny and lightens the mood. Some just ticks people off.

"I am way overqualified for this job." Hey, maybe you are. But the fact is, this is the job you have. You agreed to take it on and, while you may now regret that decision, it's still your job. Complaining that it's beneath you only makes you look bad. Plus, coworkers doing similar jobs may resent and dislike you. And guess what? Bosses will not think, "Oh, this is a superior person whom I need to promote." Nope, they'll think, "What a jerk."

"This job is easy! Anyone could do it!" Maybe what you're trying to convey here is that you're so brilliant your work is easy. Unfortunately, it comes off sounding more like, "This work is stupid." Bosses don't like hearing that any work is stupid. Nor do they really like hearing that a job is easy peasy. It belittles the whole enterprise. If a task is simple, be glad and do it as quickly as you can. Even "stupid" work needs to get done.

"It can't be done." Saying something can't be done is like waving a red flag in a boss's eyes. Even if the thing being suggested truly is impossible, saying it is can make you look ineffectual or incapable. Better to play detective. Why is the boss asking you to do whatever it is? What's the problem that needs to be solved? What's the goal? Search for doable ways of solving that problem or reaching that goal. That's what bosses really want. Most of them do not expect the impossible.

Last words: When in doubt, remember that silence really is golden.

Karen Burns is the author of the illustrated career advice book The Amazing Adventures of Working Girl: Real-Life Career Advice You Can Actually Use, recently released by Running Press. She blogs at www.karenburnsworkinggirl.com.

Meet my co-workers!

2010-03-18T14:33:00.003+06:00

Our trusty AUW Government Liaison, Mizan Bhai (bhai means "brother" and is used as a term of endearment and respect) is leaving us. We had a going away lunch for him and took this picture afterwards.

I thought you all would enjoy "meeting" the staff I work with at AUW. See if you can find me in the picture!

Resume builder: pizza delivery

2010-03-14T21:45:00.016+06:00

For months now I have been asking Pizza Hut here in Chittagong to deliver pizzas to our two faculty residences. I explained that we work really hard and are often too tired to cook when we get home. And that we love pizza. And that Pizza Hut could make a lot of money delivering. After the third request, the new manager said "yes, we will do that."

So I sent out a happy email to faculty with news:
Just wanted to let you know of some nifty food delivery options that are available here in Chittagong.

Pizza Hut: delivery to Panchlaish Apartment and 20C
Pizza Hut can deliver. I spoke with the manager, Md. Tanjim Uddin and he said you can call up and order, say you're from AUW, and ask to have your order delivered (explain where you live--I've given general explanations, but they may need refreshing).

I sent out the email on March 3 at 9:23 AM. That evening, I received a few responses saying "we tried it--didn't work." Around 9 pm, I received multiple phone calls from Pizza Hut. I didn't answer because you never know around here if someone is calling you to "speak English and chat." Then Tanjim sent me a long text messaging saying:
"I am so sorry ma'am. The other manager was on duty and did not know about delivery. Please call me as soon as possible. This is important."

I had friends over, and was annoyed with Pizza Hut. So I didn't answer. I texted back and said "call me tomorrow about this." I didn't hear from Tanjim the next day.

This morning something reminded me that Tanjim never called me back. I was feeling feisty and in the mood to follow up. I texted him to ask if Pizza Hut would do delivery or not. He responded saying, "Yes, we will."

So I sent out an email tonight entitled "Try again...Pizza Hut Part II." A Kansan co-worker responded: "We did delivery to AUW campus tonight, at about 7:30. It may have been the first pizza delivery in Bangladesh."

I have to say--this may have made my month. Heck--my year! I now have something truly unique to put on my resume: "Succeeded in assisting with the implementation of pizza delivery in Bangladesh."

More Travel Woes

2010-03-11T17:51:00.003+06:00

From an email I sent out to faculty and staff regarding problems with our domestic airline choices. Here's another peek into the joys of traveling in, around, and out of Bangladesh!

Dear friends ready to go somewhere,

Every GMG flight that AUW guests have had in the past week from Dhaka-Chittagong/Chittagong-Dhaka has been delayed one to two hours (or more) due to "technical reasons." Meaning, most likely, that a plane is out of commission. GMG will call up a day or two before the flight and say "we're sorry, but there will be a delay." Sometimes they just call the night before and say "the flight is cancelled." At which point general panic, frustration, and yelling ensues.

How to avoid this?

If you need to fly domestically, I suggest using United. ...Although they're not much better! I just called to try get United flight info on flights from Dhaka to Kolkata, and they told me they don't have an updated schedule and that I should call back in a week to get it. So much for travel planning!

Finally, don't trust either United or GMG's online schedules--they are old and/or incorrect, and just plain frustrating to read. Call the airlines directly!

Best of luck to ya'all,
Summer

Big news: New espresso machine in our building

2010-03-03T11:56:00.002+06:00

Here's a little slice of news from AUW...

New Nespresso machine in 20G 6th floor kitchen

Ms. Summer Lewis

Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 11:43 AM

To: auwallstaff

Dear AUW faculty and staff,

There is a new Nespresso machine in the kitchen on the 6th floor. Let's make our little kitchen a cafe!

You can purchase the espresso pods from me for 70 taka/pod. One pod will make one drink.

There is also a milk frother that I will keep in my office, if you wish to borrow it and use to make a cappuccino.

Come to me to get your pods and I'll instruct you on how to use the machine. PLEASE DON'T MESS WITH THE MACHINE UNLESS YOU HAVE BEEN SHOWN HOW TO USE IT!

Let's make our little kitchen a cafe!
Summer L.

--
Concierge (Guest & Employee Relations)
Asian University for Women (Chittagong, Bangladesh)
http://sites.google.com/site/auwconciergedesk/

World Traveler
http://kansaninbangladesh.blogspot.com/

Malaysian Steak

2010-02-26T08:03:00.005+06:00

Kat and I decided to get Chinese massages yesterday at a place recommended by the owner of our hostel. Kat had already been there before (the day I was stuck in the bathroom) and was impressed with how hard the massage was. We Lewis girls are somewhat violent when it comes to massages. When I get a massage, I want someone to seek out and destroy those darned knots that I always have in my shoulders and upper back. I want the masseuse to show no fear--to get in there and work those little buggers out! The massages we've had in Bangladesh have been weak imitations of the pleasure and pain Zouk Spa delivered yesterday.

I opted for the 2 hour body massage for 80 ringit (~$30 USD). The massage began with the woman kneeling on my back, digging her knees into my body, and then pounding my butt. That brought me to attention and quelled any fears that this might be a wimpy massage.

My massage therapist was a tiny lady, probably in her thirty's. But she had a lot of power in her fingers, and also employed her arms, palms, and elbows in trying to work out my knots. I don't speak Malay, but I suspect she told the masseuse next to her that she'd never worked with such tough shoulders. Or maybe she was just commenting on how big my butt was. Who knows.

After two hours of being marinated in oil, pummeled, rubbed, and tenderized, I emerged feeling like a big steak. I felt worse than when I came in--but I knew it was all for the best.

Trust me, I feel better today, but I am really sore. My shoulders and upper back hurt and I think all the toxins released during the massage have lodged themselves in my throat. I believe it's clear I need to stay in KL for a few more massage sessions.

G.I. Woes

2010-02-23T19:17:00.005+06:00

Today was beautiful. Kat and I have been alternating between the white sand beach and our air conditioned cabin room. Reading books and drinking beer in ice cold mugs. Loving Pulao Pangkor, a small island on the west coast of Malaysia, and preparing to return to KL tomorrow. Perhaps this scene seems all the more idyllic considering two days ago all I wanted to do was lie in bed and go unconscious.

Sunday was a day that will live in Malaysia vacation infamy: Summer's gastro-intestinal revolt. I ate something bad Saturday night. I think it was the carrot, tomato, and cucumber vegetable shake. (Please don't remind me of my sordid history with raw carrots in Southeast Asia. I know I should have learned by now. I'm a carrot lover, drawn to the beta-carotene and orange goodness. I just forget that my stomach requires careful preparation of raw carrots. And without that proper attention, this otherwise healthy veggie turns my stomach upside down).

The attack began as Kat and I scurried to join the line to the KL Petronas Tower Skybridge. We left our hostel at 7:30 am--an ungodly hour in the morning for any vacationer. I felt my stomach churn, and I thought, "That's weird. Must be because I haven't had any coffee or breakfast." Oh, silly me. If only it had been that simple.

Two days before, I had almost fainted while viewing a reconstructed Malaysian house. And I hadn't been feeling like myself since arriving in KL--meaning, I had no appetite. At first I worried about this, then I just figured it best not to ask too many questions and see this as a way to save money and shed a few pounds. I think these odd spells for me had more to do with heat and humidity than my stomach itself.

But standing in line at 7:50 in the morning with 200 other strangers on Sunday, waiting for a ticket to see the city from the highest twin tower in the world, I realized that my stomach was the one to blame. I passed my bag to Kat and ran for the bathroom (which took 10 minutes to find). I quickly learned that I had some major gastro-intestinal issues.

Returning to Kat, I wondered why on earth the Petronas Towers had to subject normal people to such silly schemes. If they just sold the tickets, we would gladly pay. Anything to avoid having to stand in an s-shaped line, guarding your spot, sneering at would-be line-cutters--all while grimacing like someone was punching you. Wait--that was just me when the stomach cramps started. And they didn't stop. Even after Kat finally got the tickets (with me sitting on the crowded steps near the ticket office, praying that I didn't pass out or make a mess).

We had enough time to visit the bathroom before heading up to the Skybridge. Riding a high-speed elevator 41 stories in 41 seconds definitely required a lot of concentration on my part. Once we finally made it to the Skybridge, I was too busy hugging my stomach and softly groaning to say "This is it?" I'm sure it was beautiful, this view of KL from up high. But I was more concerned with trying to find a bathroom. Luckily, we were only allowed to stay on the Skybridge for 10 minutes, and upon heading back down, the attendant (who'd heard of my predicament from the attendant upstairs), showed me the nearest bathroom.

And thus began the theme of my third day in KL. After eating lunch nearby (I fasted), we headed back to the hostel. I spent the day in our "hospital room"--it was too dangerous to venture anywhere without a toilet within 10 feet. I begged Kat to shoot me. Kat thought the whole ordeal was funny at one point, and her laughing made me laugh, which only made my stomach cramp even worse.

Thankfully, the problem cleared up within 24 hours, with the help of some immodium. And I do have Kat to thank for putting up with me and my unsavory smells. And we have this beautiful island to enjoy now. Sans raw carrots.

Quick notes on our vacation in KL

2010-02-20T14:17:00.006+06:00

I copied this from an email I sent to Mom about our time in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia:

I am feeling ok

groggy, lazy, sweaty, and generally listless

not used to having this little energy

this humidity is killer

but I love wearing what I want, drinking coffee, eating good food, and walking

although I have lost my appetite the last few days

really strange for me!

right now we are in our hostel room

tiny, but comfy

good a/c

great shower with hot water

very clean

so we are happy

probably going to the beach Monday-Wed then back to KL for one night

our flight leaves late Fri. night

we can store our bags at the hostel during Fri. and pick them up before we head out to the airport

really nice city

modern

well-connected

amazing architecture

friendly people

so many different kinds of people

i wouldn't mind living here, if it wasn't for the humidity

love,

Summer

Traveling South East Asia is not always a breeze. But Malaysia is magnificent!

2010-02-18T18:58:00.007+06:00

Kat and I are in Malaysia. Oh my goodness. This is great.

I'm not expressing myself as eloquently as I'd like to since I'm operating off three hours of sleep in the past 30 hours. I can hear you say "Wah wah wah--poor tired lady on vacation in paradise." Yes, I know that I'm whining while drinking wine, eating chocolate, and enjoying no honking whatsoever. But at least let me tell you about our trip here, ok?

We left Chittagong at 4:00 PM on Feb. 17. We were lucky to get a ride to the airport in a van. I was so thankful because two days prior I came down with a bad cold/respiratory nastiness. I didn't want to take a baby taxi (CNG) to the airport, as I was afraid I would hack to death after 45 minutes of breathing diesel fumes. I don't know if Kat would have gotten a flight refund if I hadn't made it, so it's good that I lived.

Our flight was delayed only 30 minutes--considering our Bangladesh travel experience, we would label this "leaving early." And, as luck would have it, this is the one time we didn't have to worry about arriving a little late to connect to our international flight.

For those of you who don't live and work in Bangladesh, allow me to explain. There's an annoying art to planning any sort of travel out of and into Bangladesh. All international flights (except for a flight from Chittagong to Kolkata and places in the Middle East) leave from Dhaka. (Chittagong used to have a flight to Thailand, which was cancelled months ago and never revived. I am on a mission to figure out how to resuscitate this. Begging and bribing have crossed my mind. The question is: Who do I bribe? And with what money?) We have domestic flights between Dhaka and Chittagong scheduled throughout the week. However, these flights don't always follow posted schedules and are arbitrarily cancelled at least a few times a week. Perhaps they didn't have enough passengers. Or the fog showed up. Or the crew didn't show up. Who knows.

All this means we can't just take the domestic flight that is supposed to arrive in Dhaka two hours before our international departure. Oh no--we have to do backwards planning for any sort of travel involving airplanes. Case in point: our international flight to Malaysia left Dhaka at 1:40 AM (on the 18th). There were two evening flights from Chittagong to Dhaka on GMG (one of two domestic carriers) on the 17th : a flight at 6:30 PM and a flight at 9:10 PM. We chose the 6:30 PM flight, because if it was cancelled, we could take the 9:10 PM flight.

This is how we plan all our trips. There has to be a spare flight we can take to still get our international flight after our first domestic flight gets cancelled. Does this sound a little uptight to you? I guess we've seen enough people learn the hard way, so we have to accept burning up a vacation day in transit. Or staying in Dhaka the night before an international flight. Or, in our case this trip, sitting in the Dhaka Airport from 7:00 PM until 1:40 AM while dealing with a lingering cold, bad food, and mosquitos. While eating terrible soup made from a dry mix in the one airport restaurant, the waiter ran over and yelled "Mosquito!" and sprayed under our table with the smelly Asi brand bug spray. Kat and I smiled and said thank you. I then turned my head and coughed for 5 minutes straight. Tasting toxic mosquito spray on your tongue will certainly kill your appetite.

Eventually we did get on our flight. And we got bumped to first class seats! They still had us eat the economy food, which was made by Biman Airways (Bangladeshi Airline). Tummy wasn't so happy, but legs were.

Writing all this down makes me smile. When I took this job, I thought I'd be jetting off to Thailand for three-day weekends. HA!

Upon arriving in Malaysia, we took a 28 minute (that's how they advertise it--and it's true!) monorail trip into the heart of Kuala Lumpur. Simple. No negotiating. No diesel fumes. No mosquitoes. We followed the detailed directions to our hostel, and walked in around 10 am. Unfortunately, our room wasn't ready. So Kat and I spent hours lounging on the patio, laying on the giant bench, whiling the hours away. In delirium. Neither of us had slept much, so I think people wondered if we were drunk.

We met Vince's Malaysian twin! The second this little guy jumped up on our bench, we both said "Vince!" Then we remembered we were in Malaysia.

Vince, as much as I miss you, I have to say. It may take some coaxing to get me to go back to Bangladesh.

Ciao for now.

Capote

2010-02-07T21:39:00.013+06:00

We have cable television here. Katrina and I don't generally watch television--Kat's more of the movie-watching kind. But tonight, I happened to sit down with a bowl of fresh carbonara and turned on the tv. And I found "Capote" on. The last time Kat and I sat down to watch this, the movie stopped halfway through and didn't proceed. I'm hoping this doesn't happen again tonight.

I first watched "Capote" in Boston with my roommate, Ben Jacobs. Even now, a few viewings later, this movie still sends chills up my spine. Perhaps it's the music. Of course it's set in Kansas--the place I call home. Why on earth would scenes of a cold, bleak landscape, the flat wheat fields, and a white farm house make me homesick? You know the classic line from "The Wizard of Oz"--so I'll say no more on that.

I think the feelings have a lot to do with my Mom's recounting of those murders. She was a teenager--and she recalls the terror that it struck in her family and her community. She grew up and lived in a farm house that isn't too different than the one in the movie. In Nebraska, a state above Kansas--but close enough for the Midwest.

"Capote" makes me feel a sort of nostalgia and sense of place. The desire to understand and comfort my Mom. The temptation to think that times were simpler "back then"--followed by the harsh reality of a cold blooded crime that made no sense. And this juxtaposed with an author's struggle with himself, his ego, his fame, and his feelings. All this is what brings me back to this film again and again.

Bangkok Blues

2010-01-31T16:44:00.006+06:00

January 26

10:15 AM

Bangkok Airport

Our flight was 2 hours late leaving Honolulu, so we had to hurry to catch our connection in Tokyo. No time to walk around and enjoy being on the ground. I was also sad to miss out on my last chance to have edamame and McDonald’s. But I was glad that we didn’t get stuck in Tokyo for the night. Which would have messed up our whole travel schedule and caused even greater distress than what I was already experiencing in trying to reconcile myself to our vacation ending.

We had an 11 hour layover in Bangkok. For once I was prepared and reserved a room at a hostel near the airport weeks before our trip. Once we arrived in Thailand, however, Kat didn’t want to leave the airport and run any risks of missing our flights, getting things confused in immigration, etc. After being in transit for over 20 hours with nothing more than 20 minutes of dozing, I didn’t care. I was delirious. And I was angry that the “transit lounge” had only 25 reclining chairs for about 100 people desperate to sleep. I was in a foul mood, muttering to myself, and the only thing that calmed me down was a chicken sandwich meal from Burger King. Then we opted to spend 6 hours in the airport hotel for an exorbitant price. Doesn’t matter—it was nice to lay down for at least 5 hours.

Mr. Vince Goes to the Vet

2010-01-31T15:49:00.015+06:00

Kat and I spent a few months trying to find a vet to "fix" Vincent. The veterinarians here deal more with cows and goats--domesticated cats are not common. Over break, however, our coworkers--with the assistance of their household helper, Anjoli--succeeded in getting their cat, King Julius, fixed at the local veterinarian college. (Kat and I had considered this; however, another pet owner here took their male cat and he was mistaken for being pregnant. Hence, we were hesitant to allow the students to operate on Vincent). We were thankful King Julius survived the ordeal, as this meant we could address Mr. Vince's issue.

Kat went with Anjoli on Thursday to get a tetanus shot--a pre-castration procedure. According to Kat, this went smoother than expected.

Upon arriving for the operation on Sunday, Kat, Vince, and Anjoli met with the Head Veterinarian. While Anjoli was running around getting medicine, the Vet told Kat that AUW should accept married women. While this might have been an interesting discussion otherwise, at this point, Kat and Vince were not amused.

Finally things got underway, with Katrina acting as a nurse. She held Vincent while the Vet and students checked his heart rate, gave him anesthesia (enough for a goat), and shaved his nibbly bits (which took a good 10 minutes). They stuck a plastic syringe cover in his mouth to keep it open. Vince was asleep, but not amused. Kat said that in addition to the vet students hovering over the Head Vet, there were other folks in the room doing electrical work.

The operating crew

Vince's new mouthpiece

Once fully asleep, the surgery crew picked up Vince by two legs and took him into the operating room. Sitting in the waiting room, Katrina witnessed a rabbit having an allergic reaction and a dog being harassed. After the 20 minute operation, the Vet asked Katrina and Anjoli to come get Vince. He proceeded to hand a very limp Vince, with his tongue sticking out, to Kat. Kat said "let me get the cat carrier." He said, "No, you hold him. Come sit in my office for 10 minutes." After this post-op procedure, Kat and Anjoli were sent home with Dead Weight Cat, being told "he should be fine in an hour."

Well, over 4 hours hours later, Vince is up and about, but still out of it. This must be what it's like to have a drunk cat. "No, Vince, don't try to jump off the bed. No really, you can't do that. No, you should really rest and not walk where. Oh gosh, you're puking again..."

Four hours post-op...

Overall, we would count this as a very successful--and quite possibly one of our most interesting--endeavors in Bangladesh. We are thankful that the Vet and crew removed the correct apparatus and that Vince won't be responsible for producing little kittens. We are also hopeful that this will quell Vincent's desire to chomp on people's legs and arms, howl by the front door (which echos throughout the apartment stairwell), and to get upset and pee on stuff.

Signing off,
the Cat Ladies

Photos of Vincent and the Vet Venture

Flying the not-so-vegetarian-skies

2010-01-24T16:31:00.007+06:00

Jan 24

On the flight from Honolulu to Tokyo

We have exit row seats! Happy long legs! How’d we get these precious commodities on a 9 hour flight, you ask? Kat and I checked into our flight last night (we were at the airport helping Mom get on her flight). However, we are located next to the bathrooms. But they don’t smell too bad—yet. At least not worse than dinner. Which was either “chicken” or “beef.” You don’t ask how these 2 meats are prepared—because, does it really matter? We’re on an airplane for goodness sake. Perhaps my inclination to avoid beef at all costs always leads me to now say “chicken” when flying. No, I know I’m not back in Bangladesh yet. And 2 weeks of a burger almost every day would almost predict my cow-oriented response. Alas, my habit of avoiding tasteless Bangladeshi beef has resumed on this flight.

The chicken had some goopy stuff on it. It didn’t really taste like chicken at all. So why don’t they just serve tofu? I mean, really—it’s healthier, tastier, and possibly cheaper. Certainly less likely to cause e-coli. But I think we know why tofu isn’t an option—imagine all the Americans rioting at 30,000 feet!

Hanging Loose in Hawaii

2010-01-23T17:01:00.003+06:00

Kat, Mom and I took a 7 night cruise around the Hawaiian Islands on Norweigian Cruise Line. It was just us and 950 crew members and 2,997 other tourists in Hawaiian shirts.

Highlights of the Hawaii cruise:

Sleeping, eating, drinking, reading whenever I wanted. In the sun, next to the pool. On the beach, lying on a towel. In bed, way past my bed time.
Successfully sneaking our bottle of Tanqueray onto the ship, and subsequent pleasures thereby derived.
Mozzarella sticks at the diner on board whenever I wanted. I ate a lot of them. Warm, gooey, absolutely American.
Burgers! With cheese! “Can you please toast my bun?” (Seriously—it improves the flavor immensely.)
Passing the Kilauea volcano on Hawaii at night—fiery lava on land with tons of stars in the sky.
Jasper, one of the crew (job = make people have fun on board): “You look like that lady in ‘Pretty in Pink’—you ever been told that? Girl, you are gorgeous!”
Malls. Sad, right? Yes, for me, Ms. Anti-Consumerism. I was shocked at how quickly I wanted to try on black dresses. Why?
Hammock in Kaua’i (at the Marriott Botanical Gardens). Hammocks make everything better.

Silly things to complain about on the cruise:

The boat rocking. First night I thought I’d lose my dinner. I somehow made it though. I quickly got my sea legs, praise be to the goddess of the seas.
Mom’s snoring. Luckily I brought ear plugs!
While it was fun at first, after a few days the brightly colored Hawaiian shirts, visors, fake leis, and big hair started to get to me.
“Aloooooooooha.” If I want to say “aloha,” I’ll say “aloha.” Being forced to repeat this multiple times in unison with other folks on board caused me to feel the urge to commit a heinous act with coconuts.
The anti-germ hand spraying. Before and after eating, while getting on and off the boat, and at other random times we were asked to hold out our hands for anti-bacterial hand spray. Yes, I appreciate the effort to discourage an epidemic while at sea, and I think it’s a great idea to deal with men who forget or refuse to wash their hands after using the bathroom. However, after a while I started wondering, “Have they put something else in that liquid they are spraying on your hands? A subtle scent that whispers to you: “Buy a drink, they’re only $10. Go to the gift shop and purchase useless crap that you’ll never really want when you get home. Go ahead, sign up for that $350 helicopter excursion…”

All in all, it was a great trip. Eat, sleep, drink when you want. Nothing to plan--and no way to get lost! I never thought I'd enjoy a cruise before the age of 30. Watch out--I may take another one!

Lewis Ladies Hawaii 2010 Photos

Fit to be Fooded

2010-01-12T16:59:00.001+06:00

Some notes on food and fitness from the first few days of my trip to Hawaii:

Jan 11, 2010
6:00PM in Tokyo
Eating my way through our trip:
Breakfast at Burger King in Singapore
Lunch at McDonald’s in Tokyo
Snack of edamame and Haribo gummi bears before boarding our flight to Honolulu.

It’s a good thing I brought my running shoes to Hawaii! Yes, I am actually looking forward to exercising DURING vacation. This is because, for the first time in 7 months, I can run outside. In capri pants. With a tank top on. And I will not run the risk of causing a traffic accident or being mobbed by Bangladeshi teenage boys. This is why running on vacation is a particular delight for me. I just gotta find time to run in the midst of all my eating and relaxing.

Jan 11 in Honolulu
DQ blizzard!
Avocado, olive oil, & French bread for dinner

Jan 12 in Honolulu
Arby’s!

Even trying to get OUT of the country is a hassle...

2010-01-10T22:00:00.005+06:00

Jan. 10, 2010

3:15 PM

Sitting in the Chittagong Airport. Our 3:20 flight has been delayed until 4:20. The 4:20 flight was the next flight, so that’s probably delayed until 5:20. Or they just merged the 3:20 with the 4:20 flight. I think that last conjecture is the most accurate.

I have two lovely sandwiches in my bag made with smelly French cheese Alex brought me. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat them now. Our drive here involved the driver hitting the brakes—a lot. And his brakes were pretty touchy. At one point I swear my stomach almost flew out of my mouth. Or should I say, the contents of my stomach…

7:00 PM

After finally arriving in Dhaka, we were ushered off the plane and left to stand on the tarmac for 45 minutes while being eaten alive by black swarms of mosquitoes. Why all the fuss? The prime minister was flying to India. So that meant stopping any other movement but the very slow departure of her Biman Airbus flight. Yes, the prime minister flies on a Biman (Bangladesh's infamous national air carrier) flight with other random passengers loaded on board. This is truly "Air Force One For All."

Hanging out on the tarmac with the prime minister

Tea with the Queen

2010-01-09T09:48:00.003+06:00

Cherie Blair--as in, Tony Blair's wife--is visiting AUW today.

As part of the Visit Planning Committee, I helped pick out flower arrangements with Tinne (Super Angel Faculty Coordinator Lady). I learned while picking out the flowers that it is common practice to spray paint flowers here. This is so the flowers take on hideous shades of unnaturalness--to match saris. Crammed into the little flower shop with chemical smells enveloping me, I began to wonder if a lot of brides faint in Bangladesh.

Luckily Tinne and I decided on some very natural shades of roses, gardenias, and carnations. I hope Cherie is amused.

Photos of the visit

Cox's Bazar & St. Martin's Island: sand & sun--albeit no swimsuits!

2010-01-06T12:57:00.009+06:00

Cox’s Bazar Mermaid Eco-Resort
This place is GREAT! It's located 18 km from Cox's Bazar, allowing you to get away from the tacky, noisy, and crazy city. The bungalows are comfy and clean. You can take a boat to a gorgeous private beach. There is also a spa where you can get a massage. The Eco-Resort can provide transportation (for a fee).

Food is good--although it takes FOREVER to get and there aren't many vegetarian options. Seafood is good. There is no alcohol for purchase (there is at the Mermaid Cafe in Cox's Bazar).

This place is new, so there are a lot of kinks being worked out. But I totally recommend it!

Mermaid Tour to St. Martin’s Island
Katrina and I paid 5,000 taka each for a one-night tour package to St. Martin's. This included transportation and lodging. We don't recommend it. Here's why:

It wasn't clear to staff at the Eco-Resort that we needed to go into town to the Mermaid Cafe. This was quickly sorted out and someone drove us in. He was stopped at the Mermaid Cafe between the Eco-Resort and Cox's Bazar Cafe by some men. They said they were Mermaid employees, that their CNG had broke down, and that they needed to go back to the Eco-Resort. They asked us to turn around and take them back to the Eco-Resort. The driver didn't say anything--my sister and I said "No, we need to go to the Cox's Bazar Mermaid Cafe now." With time changes, we didn't want to risk missing our Teknaf transport. Also, as 2 foreign women, we did not feel comfortable letting 5 men into the van in the dark in a deserted area.

We did get picked up at the Mermaid Cafe in Cox's Bazar by a Mermaid employee and the Teknaf transport. The ride was harrowing--the driver drove at a breakneck speed to Teknaf. My sister and I could handle this; however, I think this would be a very hard ride for an older adult or someone prone to car sickness. The Mermaid employee got us our tickets at Teknaf on a different boat, since the Keari was full. Upon arriving in St. Martin's, the Mermaid employee took us to Hotel Probal by rickshaw. He told us we would be responsible for our transportation back to Cox's Bazar and we said "no, we paid to have everything arranged." We said the same thing when he asked us to pay for the rickshaw. I realize that perhaps there was a miscommunication--but being told that we would be responsible for our transportation back to Cox's Bazar was really upsetting.

We had been told on the phone that Hotel Probal was not as nice as Blue Marine and Prasad--the preferred accommodations that were full. The room at Probal was noisy, smelly, and very uncomfortable. I told the Mermaid employee and he explained that Blue Marine and Prasad were full. We understood that there was nothing to be done about the nicer accommodations being full.

My sister and I moved to a different lodging to get out of Hotel Probal. We stayed at Sheemana Pereye Resort. We paid for this out of pocket. While it was dirty, it was quiet and close to the beach.

COX'S BAZAR & ST. MARTIN'S ISLAND PHOTOS

There's Green in Them Hills: Vacationing in the Chittagong Hill Tracts

2010-01-06T10:57:00.011+06:00

Katrina and I visited Bandarban (late November) and Rangamati (late December) in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Here's documentation and comparison of our experiences:

Katrina and I came to Rangamati, a town on the shores of Lake Kaptai for 2 nights and 3 days. Mr. Tipu brought us here and picked us up for 5,000 taka ($60). He is an excellent driver with a contagious laugh. It sure beat the bus and all sorts of delays.

We stayed at Parjartan Hotel—run by the Bangladesh Tourism Organization. Reservations are written by hand in a notebook; there are no computers. The hotel itself is a blast to the past. And I don’t mean that in a good way. The furniture and accessories have managed to survive since the 70’s—although they are showing their age.

Our room the first night was basic--no a/c and no hot water (800 taka or $11). (We didn’t need the a/c—but it’s supposed to be an indicator of quality in rooms). We had agreed ahead of time to move rooms the second night to an a/c room. (Supposedly the hotel was full and this was the only way they could accommodate us. We haven’t really seen that many people, so who knows). For 1700 taka ($22) we had hot water. Kat says this has been worth the extra money (even though the a/c room looks the same as the other room). Our porch view is much better on the 2nd floor--it beats the corner room overlooking a tourist parking lot.

Our first day here we walked down to the “hanging bridge” (more like a suspension bridge) and felt like celebrities getting attacked by the paparazzi. (I understand sometimes why Britney Spears and those other crazies lose it with all those cameras being stuck in their face). I realize that I should enjoy this status—and should respond favorably to being asked 30 times in a day to have my picture taken with complete strangers. I guess I have just gotten really tired of it and would like to be anonymous for a while. Wait—I’m in Bangladesh—even the geckos in the private hotel rooms stare.

After a greasy lunch that left me feeling quesy (as always), I read My Antonia while Kat napped. I enjoyed sitting on our little hotel porch, sunning my toes, and listening to the crows. Wait—I didn’t actually enjoy any of the noises—the crows’ racket or the tourist parking lots’ screaming children and hooting teenage boys. (The teenage boys in this country are generally worst when travelling in packs. Who knows what they are yelling at us, but I’m pretty sure it’s not flattering). When Kat awoke from her catnap, we went into town to go shop. I soon tired of looking at the same indigenous weavings (I’m pretty sure there’s a machine operating somewhere) in 10 different stores. We settled on some unique pieces of cloth that we had managed to find and headed back to the hotel.

Dinner was, as expected, less than to be desired. I don’t like eating soup that comes from a packet! I know it when I taste it. Following this disappointment, I finished reading my book on our hotel porch—and got a beautiful shock when the power went out and I could see the sky covered in stars!

We had arranged to take the Parjatan’s boat on a sightseeing trip our second day for 1,500 taka ($21). Of course we didn’t leave at 10 am as we had agreed--five people were busy trying to figure out our reservation, which police were escorting us, how much we owed, and other logistical matters. When we finally got on the boat, it turned out that our waiter from lunch the day before was our boat driver!

The boat trip was very enjoyable—especially since Kat didn’t get sick and puke the whole time. Kaptai Lake is quite large. It was so comforting to see water and green, hilly land. Of course, even out on a boat in the middle of a huge lake, we were still the subject of curious onlookers and “Banglarazzi.”

We stopped at a waterfall that had no water (God must have turned it off in conservation efforts), briefly saw a Chakma village (complete with weaving lady and textiles at twice the price of what we’d paid yesterday), and then ate lunch at Peda Ting Ting (“Full Stomach”). Everyone who comes to Kaptai swears by this little joint—and it is a beautiful little place to have a restaurant. The bamboo chicken is famous and it is good. (It still had oil in it—and this made it lose points for me. I have a severe allergy to oil in Bangladesh—the inability to maintain an appetite upon tasting it and uncomfortable digestive processes that follow).

Arriving back on the mainland, we headed into town to the Tribal Cultural Institute Museum. Eleven indigenous tribes inhabit the Chittagong Hill Tracts area, and the museum features baskets, jewelry, and clothing. The weaving was of foremost interest for Katrina and me--we couldn’t help but notice how we have seen almost identical designs in our travels: me with the Ixoq aj Kemool Guatemalan women’s weaving cooperative and Katrina in China. It is a small world!

After some shopping and a really gross dinner (sweet and sour chicken—blech), we read, I did some writing, and we enjoyed snacking on coconut cream coated peanuts (from Thailand—not really local).

Upon reflection, Katrina and I agree that we preferred our Bandarban experience to Rangamati. We stayed in Bandarban with Sangita and Varuni during the second Eid (last November). The most popular place in Bandarban—the Hillside—was booked, so we stayed at Sakura Resort, a newer place down the hill. The rooms were a bit on the expensive side (3,000 taka, $36), but we had the place to ourselves. We spent most of our time sitting on the front porch of our cabin gossiping and calling to ask about our coffee. The food was not cheap (considering how much it costs in Bangladesh), but it was good.

The hotel manager, Tahasin, was a super attentive and quick fellow. He put up with Sangita’s never ending stream of questions and needs. (Sangita—you know I love you! But how many times did you have to ask if we were going to eat dinner with the owner???). He was also able to arrange a jeep ride for us for one afternoon (1,700 taka), which allowed us to check out a very sad waterfall and a very cool Golden Temple. We also visited the Chakma King’s house—which was very awkward and involved a dirty sheep hissing at us (I’m not kidding—the thing was tied to a palm tree and charged at us).

We took a trip down the river our second day in a long boat, complete with a visit to an indigenous village, coconut milk, and haggling with the boatsmen even after we pre-negotiated the price (250 taka). We hiked back from the river bank up to our hotel. Sangita insisted on taking the jungle route “because it was less steep.” You can only imagine the sarcastic remarks after that one! It was beautiful all the same, hiking up steep hills with only green and the sky surrounding you. Never mind the sweat dripping down your body and the bushes smacking you in the face.

All in all, Bandarban felt less touristy than Rangamati. We didn’t deal with the Banglarazzi’s attention as much in the “dam of monkey’s” as we did in the Kaptai Lake area. Our stay in Bandarban involved long hours of lazing on our bungalow’s porch, contemplating what to eat next. This was NOT the case in Rangamati: although our porch in Rangamati was nice, the food was terrible. Overall, if you’re looking to quit the dust and din of Chittagong, both Bandarban and Rangamati offer natural beauty and a quick escape.

Christmas Nostalgia and Noshing

2009-12-24T21:00:00.000+07:00

Katrina and I are spending Christmas Eve in Rangamati—a small, touristy town on the shores of Lake Kaptai. I feel a bit lonely, even with Kat here. I miss home. I finished reading My Antonia by Willa Cather last night and shed a tear over her descriptions of sunflowers and prairie grass.

I miss Mom and Dad. About this time of year we would be dealing with either re-setting up the Christmas tree that fell over (probably Dad’s fault for being in such a hurry and cutting it wrong) or trying to find that collection of Christmas ornaments that is SOMEWHERE in the basement—“Kat, did you get rid of that box? I don’t understand where it went. It was here last year…”

And I miss food. I dream of the year-old turkey that Margaret gave Mom. In my memory, it tastes amazing. Homemade mashed potatoes (with some Philadelphia Cream Cheese—just like Robyn Brown makes) with gravy. Relish trays with baby pickles and pickled beets; throw on some olives for an Italian flair. Homemade biscuits and some pumpkin pie. Heck, even the cranberry jelly still shaped like the can. I crave it all.

Food occupies my mind and memory now. In the last two days I have lost all hope of learning to eat Bangladeshi food. Or, I should say, my stomach has raised a white flag. Every thought of a meal outside my home sends my stomach into spasms. I lose my appetite. In our hotel restaurant, I look frantically through the small menu and find no relief—there are no steamed vegetables! The “poached” eggs are fried in oil. I couldn’t get fresh fruit for breakfast. Yes, I thought about the cucumber and tomato “green salad,” but there’s no telling how the veggies were washed—and I’ve made that mistake before and paid for it all night.

If someone wants to make a lot of money, or simply wants to increase tourism in Bangladesh, then I suggest they start with hotel food. Not just the quality of food or the cooking methods, but the whole orientation. I was told last night that I couldn’t have desert unless I ordered it in advance. My lack of Bangla and the waiter’s lack of English did not permit me to delve any further into understanding this matter. All I could think was “How do I know at the beginning of a meal that I will want desert at the end?” The same lack of logic applies to “in advance” when it means a few hours or days ahead of time. Either way, I suppose that not getting that ice cream after my lackluster meal made my quest to lose some weight before Hawaii a little easier.

Because, as you may have guessed by now, I am going to eat my heart out when Kat and I meet up with Mom in Hawaii in mid-January. I dream (seriously—I am not kidding here) of the salad bars I will encounter and befriend. Our co-worker Jill recently went back to the U.S. for winter break. She said before she left she planned to get naked and roll around in the salad bar at her local Whole Foods. I haven’t heard from her in a few days, so it’s possible she’s sitting out a jail term for that stunt. But I understand her motives wholly. Anyone who has lived in Bangladesh for more than a few days will understand that the desire for something fresh—not fried, not oily, not over-cooked—can lead one to some pretty strange cravings and behavior.

So for now, I will think happy thoughts of family, home, and food. Of relish trays and gravy boats. Of Dad demanding the turkey breast and Mom dishing up some more mashed potatoes (because Christmas is the one time cholesterol doesn’t count). Of Katrina unbuttoning that top jean button and saying “maybe I'll start exercising this year.” Good thoughts of my family and our Christmas fodder.

Happy Christmas!

Step by Step Sari

2009-12-19T19:22:00.020+07:00

Katrina and I were invited to a wedding, so we decided to wear saris. We had never put on one of these long, flowing pieces of cloth before. Luckily, our neighbor Sangita (Sari Master from Nepal) lent us a hand.

1. Put on your petticoat and sari top. These custom-made pieces are worn under the sari, preventing immodesty and flashing of people. Relish the fact that this is the one time you are able to show your belly in Bangladesh--and still be socially acceptable. Break into a belly dance if the mood strikes you; however, do this only in the privacy of your home.

2. Find someone who knows how to specially wrap the sari around you. As an American from Kansas, you will have no clue how to ever replicate this delicate art.

3. Make sure your pet cat is placed in a secure, locked room. Otherwise he may claw or pee on your sari. He thinks it is a play thing. Little does he know that it is not a giant green and blue snake--it is your ticket to being accepted as a legitimate foreigner.

4. Stand still while the knowing Sari Master continues to wrap you. Yes, you feel like you have been standing in the same spot for a very long time. And you can't understand how there is any more cloth to wrap. Keep your mouth shut and your body still--the Sari Master knows.

5. Remind yourself to wear deodorant the next time the Sari Master wraps you.

6. Do not shriek when you are pricked by safety pins for the fifth time. The pins hold your sari--and your pride--in place.

7. Try not to shiver too much as your skin tingles with excitement at being free for the first time in months.

8. Ask yourself again, "How on earth am I gonna do this when I am in the United States--without Sari Master--and want to wear a sari?!?" Refer to step number 2.

9. Tell the Sari Master "but that fold looked fine." Prepare to be met with a "stupid foreigner" look.

10. Say, "Damn, I look good!" You are now sari-d. Within the next hour you will look like a crinkled, wilted, stepped-on flower. So revel in your moment of sari hotness. Or dream of when you can finally take this thing off.

For full documentation of the "sari-ing": Picasa Web Album

Carbonara in...Bangladesh?!?!

2009-11-29T18:17:00.002+07:00

Not made with pancetta...but with something like it.

I got the "something like it" from a guy who knows a butcher in the capital city (8 hours away). Got the parmesan from our local grocer, Mr. Moonshine. (Yes, that's really his name). And thank goodness we can readily get eggs and spaghetti here.

Kat and I chowed down on 3 bowls each. So good for the fact that we have been without it for so long--and thought we would never eat it here!!!

Though this carbonara is still not as good as Ray Streeter's...

Halloween--Deshi Style

2009-11-22T09:17:00.011+07:00

If you can do Halloween in Bangladesh--you can do it anywhere!

Calvin, Zelda, Fritz, and I used our brain power and creativity to make decorations from whatever materials we had in our apartments. We decorated all day so that everyone could dance the night away in a ghoulish atmosphere. A super fun time!

Decorating with muslin grocery bags, chalk, old pillows, and furniture!

Creepy monster food

"Monster's Cage"

Katrina and Sangita--twins separated at birth and reunited in Bangladesh!

I went as Betty Boop!

Dancing the night away...

Office Space

2009-11-09T09:53:00.006+07:00

Some tidbits from my work diary:

11/8/09

9:00 AM
Workers are currently re-decorating the area outside of my office. They disconnected our internet in the process, making it very hard to work on a Sunday morning. Hmmmm…work...

3:00 PM
Working in a co-worker's office. The workers are using a blow torch in the crawl space in my office. It smells like plastic melting. Not in the mood to be in the path of an explosion.

11/9/09

The drilling, sanding, and sawing continues. As a co-worker said, the construction noise is now in stereo! The building going up outside my window has now almost completely obstructed my view of the palm trees--my one spot of green in this concrete landscape. Soon I will be in darkness. The only good thing is--once they finish the building next door, the pounding will stop…right?

Bangladeshi Burritos

2009-10-27T23:26:00.008+07:00

No, we don't have tortillas here in Bangladesh. But we DO have parathas--a sort of flat bread. And our friendly neighborhood grocer Mr. Moonshine (yes, that is really his last name) provides us with kidney beans and olive oil. I get Australian colby cheese at Khulshi Mart grocery store. And the cukes, onions, garlic, and tomatoes are widely available in veggie markets here.

Here's the recipe for "Bangladeshi Burritos":

Saute some chopped garlic and onions in olive oil, then add canned kidney beans (with liquid).
Add some spices (coriander, chili, etc.) and some salt and cook for about 20 minutes. Add water if necessary.
Meanwhile, throw some ready-to-heat parathas in a toaster oven (I like the Tava brand at Khulshi Mart. DO NOT USE frozen parathas--they will only melt and make a big mess). Cook at 175 Celsius for about 5 minutes (until they start puffing up).
Chop up the cukes and tomatoes and shred the cheese.
Throw it all together and ENJOY!

At some point I think that Marguerite, Matt, and Jalene devised this delicious treat--thanks to them for their brain power and good taste!

Wash Day

2009-10-14T21:27:00.010+07:00

I took these photos back in August while on a field trip.

This was alongside a very busy and dusty road.

Look at those bright whites!

When it rains in Bangladesh... it floods

2009-10-10T17:39:00.011+07:00

Friday night we had torrential rains. The monsoon season came late this year, and is still reminding us that it is not finished yet. I woke up to lightening and thunder and thought I was back in a classic Kansas storm.

Fatema Haque, Access Academy teacher, took a photo of the aftermath at our temporary university campus around 8:30 Saturday morning:

Fair Trade Reunion in Mumbai: A Visit to MarketPlace Handwork of India

2009-10-03T20:43:00.039+07:00

It’s not often that a job places you in Bangladesh, halfway around the world from home (Kansas, USA). Even rarer is the chance to visit face-to-face with the women in Mumbai, India who make up a grassroots organization that you have admired for years. Add to this the alignment of your vacation dates with the visit of the organization’s founders, and your good providence provides you with a trip that is fun, educational, and inspiring.

I first learned about Marketplace Handwork of India (MPI) in 2001 as a Women’s Studies student at Kansas State University. Inspired by the organization’s mission and model, I volunteered with a women’s weaving cooperative in Guatemala. Upon graduating, I joined Equal Exchange, a fair trade worker-owned cooperative near Boston, Massachusetts. Over time I met and maintained contact with Pushpika Freitas, founder of MPI, seeing her at fair trade events and interviewing her for an article in 2007. Reading, thinking, and writing about a pioneering group, however, cannot compare with visiting the organization itself, as my sister and I did this past September.

We caught Pushpika a few days into her Mumbai trip. She was the most gracious of hosts, despite lingering jet lag and a hectic schedule. Delphine and Nooreen of SHARE managed our visit details, arranging housing, transportation, and activities—leaving us with the sole responsibility of showing up. What an amazing team!

To begin our visit, we headed to the main workshop space in Santa Cruz with Pushpika. The empty space was soon bustling with designers, fabric dyers, and SHARE employees—all ready to prepare the spring collection for production. Katrina and I were happy to stay out of the way as everyone got down to work. Soon Prajakta, SHARE Program Manager, arrived and we headed off to the Pushpanjali collective, some 40 minutes from the Santa Cruz space.

Pushpika discusses embroidery with Meeta and Dipika (embroidery supervisors)

Travelling by auto rickshaw to Pushpanjali, we passed slums, high rises, and large trucks belching diesel fumes; the noisy traffic forced our conversation to something akin to screaming. All the same, we enjoyed chatting about Mumbai, Marketplace/SHARE, and our respective work. Arriving at the Pushpanjali collective, we were greeted by over 20 smiling women. We were offered chairs, but opted to sit on the floor like everyone else (a gesture that would leave our American bodies rigid within an hour or so!). A group member applied tika with red and ochre powder to our forehead, and we were given a rose and served hot tea and biscuits.

Meeting with members of the Pushpanjali collective

Prajakta translated as we explained our visit and the women answered our questions about their lives and work. The majority of women have two to three children and live in a room about 10 x 10 feet with their family. Before joining the collective, many women were afraid to leave their homes; now they can travel across town on their own. While many husbands resisted their wives working, the women persisted in showing up at the workshop, sometimes beginning work at 10:00 at night. With Marketplace, the women learned about women’s rights, domestic violence, and have gathered the courage to voice their concerns. One woman mentioned that she now feeds her children—girl and boy—equally.

View of the neighborhood from the Pushpanjali collective

In the afternoon, Katrina and I visited two other collectives with Hasinaji. We weaved between two story houses with narrow walkways and walls jutting out (us tall Americans had to watch our heads!). In the Nirmaan collective, women sewed in a tiny room on the ground floor while on the floor above them, more women embroidered; in the last tiny space available, children had class (and got to practice their English on the visitors!). The Sahara collective required ascending a steep ladder to the second floor, where we were greeted with more smiling women who were delighted to find that my sister shares the same first name as a Bollywood actress.

Children at the Nirmaan collective

Katrina with members of the Sahara collective

Every collective we visited, we were greeted with big smiles and small, sincere gestures of hospitality. Since learning about Marketplace years ago, I’ve dreamed of meeting the women in person. Visiting the groups, it’s clear to see that this organization is truly about empowering women. When asked how their lives had changed since joining Marketplace, one artisan had said, “We have our own money now.” After our visit, however, it is clear that personal income is only one among many benefits that these women gain; in turn, they had so much to share with us.

Nooreen and Katrina join the Dandiya dance (during Navratri Hindu festival of worship and dance)

***

I was struck by the key support that SHARE provides for Marketplace artisans. My visit allowed me to witness the organization’s commitment to grassroots development and women’s empowerment, and I wholeheartedly recommend supporting SHARE through a monetary donation:

http://www.marketplaceindia.org/MPI/Content.aspx?src=Donations.htm

Check out the MarketPlace blog!

See photos at: http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis/MarketPlaceHandworkOfIndiaVisit92609#

The article I have written about MarketPlace Handwork of India is titled "'Women Who Needed to Earn a Living Yesterday': Challenging the Global Economy Through Home-based Labor" and will appear in the forthcoming Gender Parties, Global Markets, edited by Dr. L. Susan Williams and Dr. Michelle Bemiller.

Meet my Former Roommate

2009-09-15T23:40:00.006+07:00

This is my former roommate.

She took up residence in my shower back in July.

She was moved to another bathroom by a brave soul.

Two days later she reappeared in my bathroom.

Then she mysteriously disappeared from my room a few weeks later.

I can't really say that I miss her. But I do wonder to where she has wandered...

Thailand Part III: One—er, Two (more) Nights in Bangkok

2009-09-06T22:42:00.010+07:00

Thailand: August 14-21, 2009

So, for our last full day in Bangkok we had a hearty breakfast of beloved porkers, and headed out to see the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho. We decided to take a boat taxi, rather than work off our breakfast by walking, or by haggling with a tuk-tuk or taxi driver. The boat taxis—or ferries, or whatever they call them—are cheap and run on a pretty regular basis. Although some only stop at certain stops, and we had to catch one back to our stop.

Big toes of the reclining Buddha

I had no idea how big this Reclining Buddha was—it filled a couple of rooms and was at least 2 stories high. It was awesome! I enjoyed all the Thai schoolchildren who were visiting—each one in a faded red top, matching black shoes for girls and brown shoes and socks for boys. A few said “hello” and waved—for the first time on my trip, I felt like I was getting a lot of attention—I felt like I was back at home!

Kat and I headed down to Chinatown where we found a huge area with stores selling lots of things we didn’t need. Then we headed to the Royal Barge Museum. That took a while—ok, about an hour—to find. We couldn’t figure out our ferry stop, then we followed a sign for “museum,” but it turned out to be for a hospital museum. We finally hailed a taxi—metered, to be sure—and he knew where to take us. He was pulled over after an illegal U-turn. He continued haggling with the traffic cop after offering him 20 baht ($0.75). A matter of principal, Katrina and I mused—the cop won’t take bribes! Not so—50 baht did the trick and we drove on. It still took a while to follow a winding, narrow path route to finally find this big building with royal long boats.

One highlight involved food, of course. I walked by a street vendor selling what appeared to be fuzzy bean pods. When this sigh registered in my brain, I asked outloud “Edamame?” and went back to inspect. The vendor gave me a sample. No, it was not edamame, but it was the closest I had come to it in 2 ½ months. So I bought a baggie of it and had a nice, healthy snack. Kat also bought a bottle of coke, but the vendor wouldn’t let her walk away with it. She gestured to a tiny plastic bag, Kat nodded, and dumped the drink in with some ice and a straw. Truly “take away!”

Close encounters of the edamame kind...

"You want that to go?"

Our last supper in Bangkok involved entering a restaurant/hotel from the back: walking down a dark alley, up a set of metal stairs, walking through a second floor lobby--and arriving at a swank spot. The food was fantastic: cucumber and tomato salad, falafel, hummus and chick peas, and baba ganoush. I was happy breaking away from the paad thai...but sad to break away from our Thai vacation the next day.

Fabulous Middle Eastern in...Thailand!

Photos: http://picasaweb.google.com/summerbclewis/ThailandAugust21282009#