Back in the good old world

I know I haven’t finished uploading the photos which match my blog post about Kathmandu, and I also know I haven’t even written the post about the fantabulous trek I did in Nepal, but it seems my nine days back in Bangladesh are demanding to be written about in the middle of it all. The ensuing chaos fairly matches the way life goes here, so I figure jumping around a bit should be no problem. Hell, it could even be considered all post-Darwinian and fit in well with the notion that time is not linear, which means that on some level I may perhaps get to relive the trek experience by delaying my blog post about it. Yeah, ok, I need sleep.

But back to Bangladesh, which is well and truly where I am. And here are the reasons why I know this:

1. I’ve been in (another) accident: My first bus trip back in the ‘desh included a momentary increase in my heart rate as we crashed head on with a CNG. This was very disturbing given the mob mentality that often follows on from car accidents where the crowd turn against the ‘bully’ (in this case the bus). Fortunately (for me) we managed to keep the bus doors shut and the crowd out, and fortunately (for the people in the CNG) it didn’t look like anyone was killed. Though the uncertainty of my words is evidence that I can’t be certain since we didn’t exactly stick around. Yes, this makes me feel guilty.

2. I eat dinner in my underwear: There are a few reasons for this, and none of them are remotely kinky, but I bet you already guessed that. Firstly, it’s stinking hot. With temps of 36-40 degrees, it’s relentlessly stinking hot. Secondly, relentlessly stinking hot weather means people want to use more power to power extravagant things like, oh I don’t know, the fridge and a fan. Not to mention the rich buggers with their greedy air conditioners. But, in a country of over 150 million people squished into a tiny little pocket of land, there just ain’t enough of the juice to go around. And all of this means that when it comes time to eat my dinner it’s really really dark inside and it’s really really hot and I just really really can’t face sweating through another set of clothes. So, underwear it is. Oh, I feel like I should add in here that I’m currently living alone for the next three months.

3. My digestive system is (once again) deciding whether or not to mutiny: After relative peace lately, save a few minor hangover related upsets (ahh, Nepal), I was rather enjoying the peace and quiet that had been restored to my stomach. But, not 48 hours back in the ‘desh and what did I feel as I sat at my desk after a lunch? Yep, stomach cramps. A week later and not a day goes by where I don’t get some twinge or other ‘in there’ somewhere. Now, it’s no big deal. It’s nowhere near the extreme level it was before. I’m mostly keeping my food, and it’s not taking over every waking thought I have, so it really is a vast improvement on a couple of months ago. But, it has got me thinking that either a) my stomach knows when I crossed the border and is none too impressed about it, and is letting me know by being all passive aggressive on me. Or b) I’ve got stuff growing in there that shouldn’t be. Suffice to say that while I’m not usually a supporter of passive aggressive behaviour, on this occasion it’s the option I’m most in favour of.

4. I’m (once again) public property: After the relative anonymity I felt in Nepal, it seems I’d forgotten just how much attention I get out and about on the streets as a ‘white chick’. In a week I’ve had numerous “hey sexy’s,” shouted at me; three invitations to visit the homes of complete strangers as I paid for vegetables, walked home from work, and caught a bus; been asked to pose for photographs wearing some guy’s hat, sitting in the middle of a group of mothers pretending I was ‘gossiping’, and reading my book in a waiting room; and had people run their fingers through my hair, put a bindi on my forehead, and hold my hand, all without asking. And I haven’t even included the standard, daily queries I get on the street of ‘What is your country? (Au-stray-li-ya) Where is your husband? (Dhaka), “What is your feelings in Bangladesh? (It’s beautiful)…” and so on. How quickly I’d forgotten about this aspect of my life here. Hopefully I’ll just as quickly get used to it again, and will feel completely normal as my (female) colleague interlaces her fingers with mine an hour into our seven hour drive while belting out a tune about how Bangladesh is the most beautiful land of all.

5. I’ve identified a business opportunity (that I’m never going to act upon): Because there’s no such thing as ‘easing in’ to Bangladesh, my first week back after my break included a spot of house hunting to try and cope with the situation I alluded to before – the fact that I’m currently living alone. Due to various changes I’ve found myself in a 4 bedroom apartment all on my own, with a hefty rent price to match. Obviously, this is not ideal, and just as obviously (or so I thought) it was time for me to go house hunting, to downsize, to find a place more manageable etc etc. After a mere two weeks of house hunting experience in Chittagong, however, I’ve spent three nights with an excel spreadsheet putting all my hard earned accounting experience into practice pinching from Peter to pay Paul so I can avoid ever having to go house hunting in Chittagong ever, ever again. Because here is how you go house hunting in the gong.

First, you put on your walking shoes, and make sure they’re comfortable. Second, you put on your glasses if, like me, your distance vision isn’t quite up to scratch. And three, you hit the streets, peering through said glasses, at every apartment block you pass, looking for elusive ‘To Let’ signs. And you do this as you walk down every street you think you may want to live in until you finally find a ‘To Let’ sign in the right place.

Then you walk up to the guard and start asking about the available apartment, i.e. how big it is, how much the rent is, when it’s available from etc. and depending on the answers, you either say “thanks mate, but it’s not what I’m looking for”, or “sounds great, can I’ve a look at the apartment?” Or at least that’s sort of supposed to be how it goes. If you happen to have a job which keeps you occupied for most of the daylight hours, you’ll need to factor this in when you go hunting because with the power outages there’s no light once the sun goes down and you can’t see any ‘To Let’ signs. Big pain.

Having perfected the process above, and enquired after no less than twenty ‘To Let’ signs in apartment blocks of (alarmingly) varying appeal, I have come to the decision that forking out astronomical rent for two months is infinitely more preferable than moving into any of the complete hovels I’ve been offered to rent. It seems that every decent place in a well-lit area with good security not on the ground floor is either well out of my price range, or the landlord is completely unwilling to rent their apartment to (gasp) a single white woman from the (gasp again) west. My reputation (or at least American TV) precedes me, and I heard from more than one landlord they didn’t want ‘my type’ living in their house. In stark contrast to that attitude is my current landlord who loves having foreigners live upstairs from him and his family.

Which brings me back to the business opportunity mentioned above. Why oh why has no one developed a classifieds system for the housing market in Bangladesh? It seems so unbelievably preposterous and time consuming that every time you want/need to move house you have to trawl the streets looking for signs slung up on building fences. To make it clear just how ridiculous this system is, the ‘To Let’ signs themselves have no further information about the place than the words ‘To Let’ and a phone number. No information about whether it’s a one bedroom studio or six bedroom, top floor extravaganza, no information on when it is available, no mention of the going rent price, nada. Just a tiny little sign on the outside of a towering apartment block saying ‘To Let’, and offering you the opportunity to give someone a tingle.

Having already identified a business opportunity for car insurers here, I feel like it’s the least I can do to offer a heads up to domain.com.au that Bangaldesh could be their next big thing. I mean, you do the math – 150million plus people (and growing) in one of the most densely populated countries in the world that’s quickly running out of available land??? It’s a veritable gold mine for some one in real estate! Really, the opportunity is almost too good to miss. If I wasn’t so busy running around vegetable patches and asking people whether they prefer their lives with food or without food, I’d be right onto this one. In the mean time I’ve decided to stay put in my current place. After all, there are two rats who are pretty keen on taking up residence in my kitchen lately, and if I can only coax them into splitting some of the rent, things could soon be looking up indeed.