Jimmy-Watch

An Chang

2009-06-04T01:07:00.008-04:00

Completely lost in Shaoxing, the only clue Lonely Planet gave us for some respite from the city was the name of an old village about an hour away. Without any further information, we asked for some advice from the man at the desk of our hostel. He very helpfully wrote down two buses we would have to take to get to our location, An Chang Cultural Village. Since we had no idea how to ask where we were while riding the bus, it was no surprise that we got off way too early. Sometimes my mind says "oh my gosh I think this is the place we should get off and even if this is too early we can just walk in the direction of the bus and maybe we'll get there" and I should never listen. We found a local travel agent but inside, the woman behind the desk was completely unable to articulate where we should go. She understood our question in English, but she couldn't articulate a response. Instead she wrote down, in meticulous handwriting, what we should do. In English AND Chinese! Perfect! We were quickly learning that when asking for help, directions written in Chinese are worth a thousand English words.

The second bus ride was a new experience for us. We drove through ungilded China, a never-ending maze of highways and manufacturing plants and pipes-I-could-crawl-through. The bus rolled up to an intersection and all the passengers, having read our transcribed Chinese directions, scurried us off the bus and pointed across the street. We were pretty sure that they weren't leading us astray, but the direction they had pointed in seemed to lead into the middle of an abandoned factory ground. For ten minutes we walked down the streets, no sign of life except one chicken clucking us onward. And finally, we saw this:

We found it (maybe)! After the desolate streets we walked down, these decorations were actually pretty conclusive evidence that we had walked towards a village, not an abandoned factory.

Walking a little further, we saw a group of four teenagers hanging out, and given our desolate surroundings, in a country of 1.5 billion people, these four teenagers were beacons of hope. We proceeded further and further, with reserved confidence, and finally we discovered An Chang Cultural Village.

Welcome!

An Chang was a surprise after our travel through the industrial wasteland surrounding Shaoxing. We were greeted by welcome signs directing us towards the a canal, which one day may have been a real commercial street. There were several small stone footbridges across the canal, which leads me to believe that this was not a fabricated village. In addition to the locals doing their thing, making sausages, playing cards, cleaning laundry, we were confronted by a row of benches with three ladies selling hard sugar candy and dollar-store-reject toys. One of the ladies, waving her arms and pointing up to my head, successfully communicated that yes, I was very tall and yes, she was very short. It's moments like these where I feel like a true ambassador to the world.

There were also some signs pointing to a one room museum that had closed by the time we arrived, and a religious building we couldn't find, even though the entire village was just one canal street.

A local hangin' out in An Chang.

Me looking at the canal, one of the many things to do in An Chang!

Soon after we arrived on the deserted canal street, an old guy in a boat discovered us and started yelling "hello.....hello.....HELLO!" in our direction. Part of the old village vibe apparently includes guys in the Chinese version of a gondola aggressively following you around hoping you'll take a ride. We decided to walk down the canal, and then take this guy on the way back up. I try to avoid rewarding people who hassle tourists, but these boats looked cool, and there were definitely no other tourists coming that day. He also successfully told other, younger boat guys to lay off his future customers, so he might have been the senior boat guy in town. Our plan left him with an hour to call after us as we slowly strolled down the street, but he never gave up hope. We finally hopped in at the end of the road, and he took us back up the canal in full gondola style, sans the serenades.

Our relentless boatman-to-be

One side of the rowboat was paddled with his hands, and the other with his feet. Good idea!

We're pretty sure An Chang was an attempt to create a tourist attraction, and I would make fun of it, but I geniunely appreciate the money that must have gone into preserving the canal, its bridges, and the structures lining the waterfront from development and construction. This is what it looks like one hundred feet past the edge of the village:

The surrounding scenery

Despite the silly attempt at a tourist attraction, I'm glad An Chang was saved from that fate.

Shaoxing

2009-06-03T01:44:00.006-04:00

Nate and I traveled south-east from Hangzhou by train to Shaoxing, a quiet city of 4.5 million in Zhejiang province. When Nate and I were planning where to go from Hangzhou, we had a few days to travel before we could meet up with Ian again, so we didn't want to stray too far from Shanghai. However, Lonely Planet was not being very helpful. The sad reality is that the size of a travel guide seems to be inversely proportional to its quality. With little help from Lonely Planet, we found a city that was a couple of hours by train from Hangzhou, and went for it, not sure exactly what we would find. We ended up in Shaoxing, a city about two hours by train from Hangzhou. It's a humble city of 4.5 million, and here Nate and I began to see China.

Tearing away, layer by layer, the bars, night clubs, dunkin' donuts, the bund, we left the foreigner zone and entered a city built by the Chinese for the Chinese. Not that this city was so different from the others. Shaoxing is still full of towering apartment complexes, early-morning ballroom dancing in public parks, streets saturated with mo-peds, but this city seemed to be bleeding utility and efficiency.

Shaoxing, like a lot of China, is perpetually being built

I never stop being impressed by these large, stoic squares that have welcomed me to some cities in China

And just when I thought that this was a just another modern city blooming from Chinese industrial expansion, we walked one mile east from our Hostel and encountered some architecture that felt like an old Chinese village. The skyscrapers of Shaoxiang towered in the distance, and I'm honestly not sure how much longer this village section of the city will last. It was one of the places where I would have loved to have a tour guide, or at least someone who spoke Chinese. Some villagers peeked out from their buildings and said "ni hao", but I wonder how long they had lived there and when Shaoxiang began its explosion into a metropolis. I left China with more questions than answers, and nowhere was this more evident than in Shaoxiang.

Out of nowhere, old buildings!

It took a while, but we found a pagoda on the hill. Walking up the hill, we ran into some old men who we think were telling us that the inside of the pagoda was closed, and insisted that we try some other time. When we kept on going, they looked at each other and wrinkled their eyebrows in confusion, probably thinking "those guys are wasting their time, why don't they come back tomorrow when they can see the inside of the pagoda too?"

Silenced by language, I drifted aimlessly through this city, seeing people, buildings and places without really understanding. Without any help from the guide book, we were surrounded by a city without even knowing why it existed in the first place. I had been pretty firmly attached to my guide book up until this point, and in Shaoxing I learned to put the book in my backpack and start exploring. I'm sure there were points of interest we missed - apparently a famous poet lived somewhere in the city - but we decided to take the city and make it our own.

"What kinds of industries are important in Shaoxiang? What types of people live here? Is this a city that Chinese people would visit? What is that big glass pyramid building in the middle of the town square?"
"I have no idea!"

As expected, we failed spectacularly, which is not so bad, all things considered.

Shaoxing village, with Shaoxing City looming in the background

Seriously, what is this building??

Hangzhou

2009-04-18T08:50:00.008-04:00

From Shanghai, onward by train to Hangzhou (pronounced something like Hong-Jo)! Unassuming by Chinese standards at 6.4 million people, the city manages to distract your gaze from the endless apartment complexes on the outskirts, anxiously urging you on to the serene lake in the center of town. Near the lake is a shopping district that would feel at home in the most gardened sections of the garden state. Even the street food was upscale, which worried me. The commercialized street food made me suspicious that it would be just cafeteria food served outside, but oh-my-gosh the bubble tea was tasty.

The other thing that made me fall in love with Hangzhou (did I mention I'm in love?) is the abundance of rental bicycles. For ten or twenty cents per hour, you can rent a bike and ride around the city. There are bike stands all around the city, and once you're finished you can drop the bike off wherever you end up. I hear that there are some cities in Europe that have a similar system, but this was my first encounter with public bicycles. At least in Hangzhou, most of the people who use the bikes take it easy, pedaling at a comfortable pace across town. There are big sidewalks and bicycle lanes, so there is no need to fight for space. The city already feels tranquil, with the quiet lake and the weeping willows brushing against the water's surface, but the bikes give the tranquility a human touch.

Pedestrian/bicycle path across the lake

The middle of the city is like a quiet lake town

On the top of a pagoda hill, looking out on the city sprawl

It was a good thing I brought some gloves, because it was hard to find gloves that fit my larger-than-chinese hands. Many motorcycles had gloves built into the handlebars, which almost certainly cuts into the market for normal gloves. I hate to go against what most of society probably sees as a public good, but I have so many issues with the idea of gloves that are irreversibly linked to one vehicle. They encourage people to sit on their motorcycle instead of standing, even when they are not riding their vehicle. They limit the ability to adjust the grip on the handlebars, which can lead to handlebar palsy. They create the need for an auxiliary set of gloves, for those times when you are outside but NOT on a motorcycle. This is no joke people. Don't let this terrible invention get the best of your senses. Just say no.

This panda is angry about handlebar gloves too

Given the tranquility that envelopes the lake center of the town, it was only appropriate that, despite the cold weather, these five american kids relive their 7th grade bicycle gang youths in Hangzhou, plowing down the drizzled sidewalks.

Nate and David put their game faces at the bike rental stop

Ian getting ready to roll

Now is probably a good time for a group picture near one of the hilltop pagodas in the city.

Group Picture!

As if it wasn't already a wonderful city, Hangzhou is home to some pretty outrageous nightclubs. I'm sure the wonder of hired dancers and pyrotechnics would wear off after a while (I know, I know, a loooong while), which is why Hangzhou continues to be awesome with a nice range of bars, in case you'd rather have open mics than pyrotechnics. There is at least one great night market with lots of souvenier-worthy shopping... and a Dairy Queen! It was frickin' freezing outside, but it had been half a year since my last blizzard! I'm only human.

Night market!

Just chillin' at a nightclub in Hangzhou

Surfin' the Maglev

2009-03-23T05:30:00.007-04:00

So I arrived in Shanghai on a weekday morning in the middle of December, wrapped in the warmest clothes I possessed in Bangladesh. While the Bangladeshis walk outside in December with full winter jackets, I was walking around in t-shirts; it was only 70˚F! But China actually has winters. I don't think it was any worse than a normal winter in the U.S., but oh my gosh, my body was not prepared.

I developed a cold within the first couple of days in China, and it never really went away for the next two and a half weeks. My nose started running, and it soon dawned on me that I would be requiring a constant supply of tissues. I wasn't looking forward to managing my tissue supply while traveling, but I managed to find tissues at just about any place I could purchase food or other small consumer goods. Simultaneously, I was experiencing a serious lack of napkin supply at many of the smaller, mom-and-pop food operations. I therefore suspect that the tables of the napkin burden have for some reason been reversed, and the responsibility for providing napkins in China falls flatly on the consumer, not the restaurant. I welcome all comments and suggestions regarding the validity of my idle speculation. I also applaud Chinese businesses for (probably unintentionally) saving paper.

Before I got a cold, though, I landed in Pudong Airport in Shanghai, where I had the chance to ride the Maglev train into the heart of Pudong. I failed to realized that this stood for "Magnetic Levitation Train" until the train left the station and never stopped accelerating for 7 or 8 minutes. Somewhere around 4 or 5 minutes I began to suspect that this was not a normal train. Each car in the train has an LED panel in the front proudly displaying the current speed, which maxed out at around 420 kilometers per hour. I think it's safe to assume that the speedometer is just for show, but I firmly believe that people who build Magnetic Levitating transportation devices should also be allowed the right to build vanity LED panels.

The train arrived in the middle of Pudong, and I managed to meet up with David and Nate (!!!) who were hanging around while Ian was working. Have I explained the layout of Shanghai yet? Well, most of the older parts of Shanghai are on the West side of the Huangpu river, where British colonials set up camp and helped develop Shanghai into one of the biggest business cities in China. In the last one hundred years, Pudong, on the East side of the Huangpu, has been exploding with new developments and skyscrapers. This area of the city feels much more planned, with lots of wide roads and perpendicular intersections (after coming from Dhaka, I was speechless!). The buildings are very practical and functional, with some interesting attempts at bringing public spaces to life. I think this picture says it all:

Say hello to Pudong!

Ian came out for lunch and we all sat down to have a meal in China! It was wonderful seeing friends from college again. We hadn't been separated that long, but we had so many stories to tell! David had been traveling through Europe and Asia, Ian was working in Shanghai, and Nate had been working in New Orleans and was just starting his travels in Asia. We were all doing different things, but we had all made the same decision to do something adventurous after college, and I was so happy to be able to catch up with them in the middle of their adventures while their mind-grapes were still being gently massaged by new experiences.

Soon after lunch, Pei, James' friend from high school, arrived from Hangzhou, where he is teaching English at a University. We spent a day or two wandering around Shanghai...

and checked out some of the sites.

Pei looking at something really high up

Most of the time I was in China, it was overcast, and so many of the buildings in Shanghai are made up of quiet, grayscale tones. No wonder I saw so much black and white photography in Shanghai art galleries. Almost all of my photos were hazy and gray. Once the weekend rolled in and Ian was free from work, we took a train to Hangzhou so Pei could show us around his city.

Blurry pictures of train stations are good for foreshadowing, right?

Hangzhou pictures/stories coming soon!

Dhaka to Hong Kong

2009-03-04T03:01:00.002-05:00

Well back in December my school had a three week holiday. Ian lives in Shanghai, Pei lives in Hangzhou, and Nate and Jin were traveling in China at the same time as my vacation, so I went to China! I'll try to write some entries about things that I did in chronological order before I forget everything that happened!

My travels started in airports. While I was driving to Dhaka's Zia International Airport, it dawned on me that this was my first time leaving Bangladesh in over five months. Sitting in the international terminal, my ears searched desperately for every bit of Bangla they could find, and I watched the flight announcements sign skip back and forth between English and Bangla. Desperate for some Bangla conversation, I talked with the Snack Stand's night manager, who asked if we do "live-in" in America (i.e. do we live with boyfriends and girlfriends before getting married). "Of course we do live-in in America!" I replied. I'm proud to be an unofficial ambassador of all things we value in American culture.

Arriving at the Hong Kong airport at 5am local time only escalated all of the strange feelings that rushed into my head. I had just spent five months without going in a proper shopping mall or walking on a dirt-free road. In three and a half hours, I was plunged into an airport where even the slightest walking distance called for a people-mover, and people who wanted to smoke had specially designated rooms located at frequent intervals throughout the airport. There were even baby-changing rooms! Yes, rooms designed specifically for changing diapers! All of the stores were closed until 7 or 8am, but I couldn't stop walking around. One part of me was pumped about the Burger King that was opening in less than two hours, but I couldn't help feeling a little upset Bangladesh was being left behind. The idea of considering the needs of different kinds of people in public spaces, like non-smokers and women with babies, is decades away from reaching Bangladesh.

I was in such awe that I actually took pictures of the airport

The airport was completely empty at 5am, and as the hours passed while I waited for my connection to Shanghai, people started arriving, and the sun slowly rose in the horizon, revealing the silohetted mountains of Hong Kong. The only elevated terrain I had seen in the last five months was during my visit to Chittagong, so I walked to the glass to get as close as possible to this mountain. I was looking at China!

My Shanghai travels coming soon!

Mutiny Update

2009-02-27T12:01:00.002-05:00

Well it looks like everything is finally over. The mutiny supposedly ended in Dhaka on Thursday afternoon, but regional branches of the BDR either didn't get the message or didn't care, and the violence continued until at least Thursday night. I wasn't really sure until this morning if the violence had ended, and no one is quite sure yet how many people died during the attempted mutiny. International News Media seemed to struggle to disseminate any sort of meaningful report on what was going on. BBC is the only organization that seems to have its act together in Dhaka. What we do know is that the cause of the mutiny was the build-up of many grievances concerning salary and job benefits. The BDR was being ignored, while members of the Army were being given much better working conditions and job placements etc. etc. Regardless of the details, I am horrified that someone would think that these are grounds for killing dozens of people. Moreover, to think that members of the government's national defense force (i.e. the ones with all the guns and tanks) think this is okay is even more unnerving.

As all of this unfolded, I felt relatively safe knowing that I am probably in a better position than most Bangladeshis for receiving critical information, since I'm part of my school's Emergency Alert system which sends text messages if there is an emergency. Our school is in contact with the U.S. Embassy's Regional Security officers, which I will assume is pretty reliable. However, on Thursday the Bangladeshi government ordered all mobile phone carriers to stop providing service until further notice. This was both to prevent communication between the mutineers, as well as to prevent mobs from forming near outbreaks of violence. Luckily, things were sorted out quickly so the mobile phone silence didn't last long, but that means my school's alert system is definitely not foolproof.

Sara and I were hoping to go shopping for fabric downtown in New Market and Chandi Chowk for the last two weekends, but we have been foiled both times. Last weekend, a fire broke out in the market across from Dhaka College as we were driving to that very market to buy some cheap garment factory overstock. That market is right next to New Market and Chandi Chowk, so we were going to do some major shopping, but we had to turn back because people were going kind of nuts over the fire for the whole afternoon. Then, this weekend there was a mutiny in Rifles headquarters, just down the street from New Market. Kinda scary to think about, but Sara and I went shopping in Rifles Square, the building next to the site of the mutiny, about five days before the mutiny occurred.

So to summarize, two failed attempts at shopping, due to a huge fire, then a mutiny. What other forces will conspire against our desire to purchase cheap fabric and garments??

Mutiny, Yikes!

2009-02-26T00:14:00.007-05:00

What a day in Dhaka. Don't worry, I am safe.

Yesterday, about half of the 6,000 members of Bangladesh Rifles (BDR), the border patrol division of the Bangladeshi Army, decided to hold a mutiny in Dhanmondi, in the western portion of Dhaka City. About six army officers were killed, and there was crossfire throughout the morning and afternoon. The school I work at is in the Diplomatic Enclave, which is about four or five kilometers from the mutiny, so we were safe, but the campus was closed immediately after school, presumably so all the local staff could get home safely. Beckley, Sara, and I watched for news on television, and we found some amazing coverage on the Bangladeshi news stations. News reporters decided it would be a good idea to drive right through the crossfire with a video camera, and another reporter was interviewing one of the mutineers, while the cameraman shifted rapidly between the man's face and left hand, which was holding two grenades. All of this footage was littered with gunshot noise in the background. Yup, these guys are out of their freaking minds.

I am not crazy, so I was not anywhere near these events, but some of the local newspapers got some great pictures. This is one from The Daily Star:

(http://www.thedailystar.net/newDesign/news-details.php?nid=77492)

Bengalis work pretty hard all day and they have no concept of punctuality, a combination which has slowly eliminated the fast-paced commuter from the streets of Dhaka, so you know its serious when you see Bengalis running. I know that sounds like I'm making light of the situation, but it actually gives me the chills seeing images of people running like this in Bangladesh.

Some pictures from the front lines. Scary stuff!!

(http://www.thedailystar.net/newDesign/news-details.php?nid=77494)

(http://www.thedailystar.net/newDesign/news-details.php?nid=77491)

Here is the New York Times coverage of the events that transpired yesterday:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/26/world/asia/26bangla.html?_r=1

Eid-ul-Azha

2009-02-08T03:40:00.007-05:00

So I am back in Dhaka after many weeks of travel! I will post pictures and thoughts from my adventures in other parts of Asia soon. But first, Eid-ul-Azha, which happened in the middle of December.

Eid-ul-Azha is a Muslim holiday that celebrates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his own son. Muslims around the world celebrate this festival and in Muslim countries, families with money will purchase animals to sacrifice. Traditionally, one third of the meat is used as a meal for the owners of the animal, one third of the meat is distributed to other family, and one third of the meat is given to those less fortunate.

In middle eastern countries, the animal sacrifice is apparently done indoors, in the garage or behind a fence. In Bangladesh, the families have the sacrifice right on the street. In middle eastern countries, the animal of choice for sacrifice is sheep. In Bangladesh, they sacrifice cows. You can also purchase goats, and the unreasonably rich families import camels from abroad. Think about that for a second. Eid in Dhaka is a holiday where they kill cows on the streets. Thousands and thousands of cows! In the couple of weeks leading up to this event, huge markets are set up to sell animals for sacrifice.

Here are some cows being shipped into Dhaka. Apparently many are illegally imported from India, where there is a surplus due to the whole sacred cow thing.

A cow market about three blocks from my apartment.

The animals are then tied up in front of the houses, awaiting the day of slaughter. Some people like to purchase expensive cars to show off their wealth, while others wear expensive jewelry. Well, the Bangladeshis are no different, but they also purchase beautiful animals and tie them up outside their houses to show off before they kill them. When I was walking around to check out my neighborhood-turned-temporary-petting-zoo, some of the neighbors would point to their collection of animals and tell me how much they spent on sacrificial cows. Some of them spent thousands of U.S. dollars on cows!!

My friend Iftekar and his daughter Fatima posing in front of the camel that everyone was talking about in Gulshan.

Beautiful white cows down the block from where I live. These probably cost at least $2,000 each.

Well on the day of Eid-ul-Azha, the streets of Dhaka run red with blood, and I am not joking. It amazes me that I have never heard of this event before, but I suppose that since most Muslim countries don't have sacrifices on the street, the spectacle hasn't been as widely publicized. Whatever the reason, this leads me to believe that there are many more crazy things that happen in the world that I don't even know exist yet.

Some people stay indoors, close their windowshades, cover their eyes and ears and wait for Eid to pass. I imagine it is not a fun day for Hindus. However, I had no intention of missing the action, so I went with my friends Sara and Jason downtown to Old Dhaka. The residents of Old Dhaka might not have as much money, but they are proud of what they've got, and they love to show off their cows, dead or alive.

We drove down a little after sunrise, and found a cow market that was trying to get rid of their remaining cows. They don't really speak English down in Old Dhaka, so I needed to find out how to say "cow sacrifice" in Bangla. I mimed slitting my throat, and then asked how to say that. After a minute of clarification, I emerged with an important word, which probably roughly translates as "to slaughter". Old Dhaka was then subjected to three hours of Jimmy, Sara, and Jason, in which I asked questions like "where will cows be slaughtered?" and "can you bring me to a cow slaughter which is happening soon?" and the occasional "I want to see cow blood".

Because we had arrived so early, it was quiet, and we thought we might have missed out on all of the sacrifices. In about twenty minutes, we managed to see our first sacrifice, and then things got serious. The method of killing the cow is basically to cut the aorta and the windpipe without cutting the spinal cord, so the heart is still beating and pumping out blood for another four or five minutes. I'm not entirely sure why, but for some reason I think that they want to get as much blood out of the animal as possible before it dies. I would say that after seeing twenty-five cows being sacrificed, the novelty wore off a little bit. For about an hour, we were whisked through the alleyways by the locals. Everyone wanted us to see their cow being sacrificed, and how can you say no when someone asks if you will watch them kill a cow?

I will now post some pictures for your consideration. IF YOU DON'T LIKE SEEING ANIMALS BEING KILLED OR BLOOD OR ANIMALS LEAKING BLOOD OR ANY COMBINATION OF THESE THINGS, YOU WILL NOT BE SCROLLING ANY FARTHER DOWN. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

SERIOUSLY, LAST CHANCE. DID YOU READ MY WARNING??

Cutting the neck of the cow. You can see the blood streaming out of the aorta!

The streets run red...

They were very proud of their used knives. Haha, its all fun and games! How could anything possibly go wrong...??

Well, it used to be fun and games, and now Jason is holding a warm, bloody knife. He is not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Some of these kids were uncomfortably immature about dead cows. I'm not even really sure how to explain that, except by showing pictures of the kids pretending to lick cow blood.

These guys managed to dismantle an entire cow in about five minutes.

Later in the day, the poor travel around in big groups with bags, where they collect meat being handed out by the rich families, aka Trick or Meat. This street is usually pretty quiet.

I got some people to show me their bags. They were so excited!

This is where Eid differs slightly from Halloween.

The Watch Goes International

2008-12-21T11:38:00.002-05:00

Hello from Hangzhou! Last thursday I left Bangladesh for the first time since the end of July. My school has a winter break until early January, so I'll be traveling around China for the next three weeks. I've spent the last couple of days with Ian, David, Nate, and Pei, and now Nate and I are about to head off to Shaoxing and Anchang while some of our buddies actually get some work done. Jin arrives later this week, and we might head down to check out his village. David flies back to the states tomorrow, and Confucious says "it is good that you saw David before he left Asia."

Pictures and stories from China will appear as permitted by internet availability. I am pleasantly surprised by the prevalance of internet here, so there may be some hope! I actually feel more inundated by Christmas music and advertising here than I ever thought possible here. If you hear a christmas classic dunked in saccharine reggae beats and sung by a Chinese man, think of me. And Merry Christmas!

Bandarban and Rangamati

2008-12-17T10:46:00.007-05:00

The final destination on our trip was the Chittagong Hill tracts, a hilly area in the south-eastern part of Bangladesh right on the Burmese border.

Our car, parked in the hill tracts.

This section of Bangladesh is peculiar not just for its large hills, but also for its people. An overwhelming majority of the people in Bangladesh are ethnically Bengali, with a small minority of Biharis. However, in the Hill Tracts there are many different tribal groups who look like they should be from south-east asia. They have their own style of dress, and they don't seem to fit in with the rest of Bangladesh.

We visited Bandarban and Rangamati, and as you drive along the main road in Bandarban, there are signs describing the different tribal groups. Each sign has a man and a woman in traditional dress, and there is info as if we were driving through an open-air museum ("The Chakma tribe is known for their fierce warrior traditions and unique hunting style..."). We had a local kid take us on a long walk to through the hills in Bandarban, and we saw lots of green.

And as we walked, we ran into some tribal peoples actually trying to get stuff done while the foreigners come and cause a commotion. Hardly any of them spoke any Bangla (they have their own tribal languages) which caught me by surprise. I've become so used to having short conversations with villagers that I felt more uncomfortable than other village visits. Being able to chat always makes me feel less like a spectator, and those strange museum-like signs back on the road didn't help me feel at ease. All we could do was try to gather kids together to take pictures.

Our guide Onik (who was probably in his early 20's) said "ohh I haven't met that girl before." It is our sincere hope that we will be invited to the wedding, because the rest of our trek through the hills included not-so-subtle hints that he has to lock that down asap.

One of the most peculiar things about the Chittagong Hill Tracts is that they are a little mysterious, even to some people who live in Bangladesh. There are apparently underground independence movements, which makes sense to me, since the Hill Tracts have almost nothing in common with the rest of the country. There have been a number of reports of foreigners being held hostage in the past few years. Because of this, the government treats the Hill Tracts as a high security zone, and we had to call the district commisioners in advance for each area we were traveling to in order to gain permission. There are conspiracy theories, though, which claim that the government is trying to prevent development in the region in order to quietly smother the tribal people. The Hill Tracts is undoubtedly one of the most interesting places in Bangladesh, but fear about safety is preventing all but the bravest (or craziest) foreigners from seeing it. The U.S. Department of State has this to say about the Hill Tracts:

"U.S. citizens are advised against traveling to the Khagrachari, Rangamati and Bandarban Hill Tracts districts (collectively known as the Chittagong Hill Tracts) due to kidnappings and other security incidents, including those involving foreign nationals. Foreigners traveling in the Chittagong Hill Tracts are required to register with local authorities. ... Individuals who choose to visit these districts are urged to excercise extreme caution."

In addition to the "Shogotom!" (Welcome!) signs that could be seen as we crossed town borders, we also ran into signs like this about six times during our two days in the Hill Tracts:

We also stopped at a Buddhist temple on the top of a hill outside of the Bandarban town. The temple wasn't open yet since we had arrived so early in the morning, but a monk was chillin' near the gate and was more than happy to let us take a look.

Bang a Chittagong

2008-12-15T03:48:00.004-05:00

We spent a day seeing all we could see in Chittagong. Since we had come fresh from three months in Dhaka without any vacations, our enthusiastic exclamations that "there are slightly less rickshaws and slightly more autorickshaws here!" and "there are some hills!" seem rather mundane in retrospect. Regardless, we had just encountered exciting new territory, and we soaked it up like the Buriganga in June (ba-dam-ching).

The High Court of Chittagong - this is not the only famous pink building in Bangladesh, a fact which I am curiously not surprised to learn

The roads are slightly wider in Chittagong!

Since Chittagong is the major port city of Bangladesh, we went to check out some of the docks. We ended up just walking down towards the river at a loading dock. I think we were the only non-employees anywhere near the dock, but thankfully people seem to be very nice about foreigners bumbling through their place of work.

This picture was taken as I narrowly avoiding being rolled over by something really big.

The small dock in Chittagong we visited.

Then our driver tried to take us to a ship-breaking yard. Some of you may have read about the ship-breaking yards in Chittagong. Commercial vessels are brought to Chittagong where they are broken apart for scraps BY HAND. These yards got some really negative international press about four years ago because of the bad working conditions. As you drive into Chittagong, there are stores along the road where you can buy anything you could imagine from a ship, from kitchenware to fuel tanks to spiral staircases. As we drove down to the yard, we found ourselves in front of large gate and some angry men staring at us. The word on the street is that its incredibly difficult to see them now, because managers don't want to deal with more foreigners spreading the word about whatever goes on inside.

Our driver, in case I have not sung his praises enough, managed to convince the manager of the big ship-breaking yard to let us in. I can only speculate as to what he said, but after about 10 minutes with our driver they were suddenly very nice to us. Maybe its best that we never know.

Absolutely no pictures were allowed, but Sara distracted the manager, our tour guide, with her many charms while we did our best to furtively document our adventure.

We walked down the beach at sunset, flanked by full-size beached commercial transport ships. Beautiful!

The Road To Chittagong is Mostly Paved

2008-12-07T23:38:00.002-05:00

Beckley, Sara, and I, after returning from the Sundarbans, took a five-day adventure towards south-eastern Bangladesh. We headed towards Chittagong, the second largest city in Bangladesh. The Dhaka Trunk Road, connecting Dhaka and Chittagong, is the busiest intercity road in the country, since Chittagong is the largest port city. We hired a driver from the school to drive our car, because Beckley and I are crazy enough to drive around Dhaka, but no way are we going to drive on the highways outside of Dhaka. We made a special request for Kalam, our favorite driver, and he cancelled his holiday plans just to drive for us. We love Kalam because he is everything good about Bangladeshis. More than that, we love Kalam because he remained absolutely non-plussed after unceremoniously plowing through a flying raven three hours into our journey.

The Dhaka Trunk Road goes right along Bangladesh's eastern border with India, and I got unreasonably excited at the sight of the slightest amount of sloped terrain. I hadn't walked up or down a hill in three months. After driving for about 6 hours, Kalam offered to take us on a detour. We stopped at a Hindu temple at the base of the mountains, and then learned that there were a couple of other temples at the top. Well, once you've climbed 100 steps, you might as well climb the other 900, and that is how we climbed a mountain in Bangladesh.

The view from about halfway up. Not there yet!

We were even more of a spectacle than usual, and at some points there were so many people crowding around us that a simple "Shobai ekhane ashun" (everyone come here!) was all that was necessary to create a picture like this:

My Dad can only dream of wielding this sort of influence over my cousins during family picture time. After almost two hours of climbing, we made it to the top!

We made it!!

Completely flat Bangladesh in the distance. The Indian border is right behind me.

Just some guys following us back down the mountain.

My camera ran out of batteries right at the top of the hill, which means I don't have pictures of the next two hours. Within these two hours, we managed to be invited to a vegetarian meal with the head gurus of a Hindu study center at the base of the mountain, immediately followed by an invitation to the ritual Hindu sacrifice of two goats, which we witnessed from less than six feet away. I can't be sure, but I suspect that the organization who invited us to vegetarian lunch is not directly affiliated with the organization in charge of the goat sacrifice. Before leaving, an old hindu woman from the temple came over and gave each of us a hug as if we were her long-lost grandchildren. I'm not gonna lie, that was a good hug.

We then continued the eight hour journey to Chittagong, and arrived in the late afternoon. We had no lodging planned ahead of time, so we checked out suggestions from Kalam, who eventually brought us to a hotel which happens to be owned by Kumar Biswajit, our favorite Bangladeshi pop singer from the 90's. The genesis of our love for Kumar Biswajit is unfortunately an entire story unto itself. Needless to say, the furnishings in the hotel room were primarily made of a pink satin material, but we expected nothing less of Kumar himself. All of this for less than ten dollars per person. How did we manage such a cheap rate? My conversation with the concierge went something like this:

Me: How much will it be for a room with three single beds?
Conceierge: [gives a price]
Me: Oh okay that sounds good.
Concierge: Sir, I am pleased to say that I can offer you a 30% discount on the room for the duration of your stay.
Me: That sounds great.
Concierge: How long do you plan to stay in Chittagong?
Me: Tonight and tomorrow night.
Concierge (after checking one of our passports): Sir, I am pleased to say that I am offering you an additional 10% off for first-time customers.

My bargaining skills are apparently so advanced that I don't even have to say anything to receive discounts.

More about Chittagong soon!

The Sundarbans

2008-11-19T08:20:00.005-05:00

AAhhhhh Sunrise in the Sundarbans OWWW MY EYES!!!

My school had a week off at the end of October, so Beckley, Sara and I took a trip down to the Sundarbans, and then explored the south-eastern part of Bangladesh. The Sundarbans is "the largest single block of tidal halophytic mangrove forest in the world" (thanks wikipedia! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundarbans). I don't know what halophytic means, but I saw the Sundarbans and they were beautiful! Actually, now I know what halophytic means, also thanks to wikipedia! The beauty extended beyond the visual and enveloped my eardrums. There are no cars! No rickshaws! no Buses! No people!

Our sundar-boat. I would apologize, but I'm not done yet.

We flew from Dhaka to Jessore, then took a bus to Khulna, where we got on our boat. It took about 12 hours on the boat from Khulna to reach the Sundarbans.

Living in Dhaka has made me appreciate things that I probably wouldn't not consider particularly worthy of appreciating. The peace and quiet was more than worth traveling by plane, bus and boat to find. I am also now appreciating how creative I would have to be to keep myself occupied on long car rides, since I get nauseous if I read. We would have to play games like 20 questions and License-Plate Alphabet to keep ourselves sane. Some of you may have been lucky enough to be in the car with Colin on a trip from Michigan to Providence, in which he enacted all of human history in a coffee-fueled 20 minutes at 2am after twelve hours on the road. I've found that simply staring out the window is more than enough to keep me occupied on the roads even in the middle-of-nowhere (if there is such a place) in Bangladesh. However, I have developed some games for the road, just in case you don't want to go cold turkey on long drives in Bangladesh:

1) Count the number of seconds in which you cannot see one person. I don't think I have accumulated more than 120 seconds during my 4 months so far in Bangladesh (excluding the Sundarbans).

2) Score one point every time you see a full family (man, woman and child) on a motorcycle. One bonus point for each extra child and two extra points for adult relatives. I actually wish there were more motorcycles on the road because the traffic in Dhaka is so bad that this sentence has already become a cliche. Actually, I'll request a subway system while I'm at it, since the powers that be are probably reading this and are interested in enacting positive change for the citizens of their country.

Apparently Bangladeshis sometimes have psychological issues when they move West because there aren't enough people. Now that I think about it, Manhattan and it doesn't seem so crowded to me anymore. If I ever start compulsively getting on the F train to go to Jackson Heights at rush hour, then you'll know why.

Oh, back to the Sundarbans! They were beautiful! I saw some pretty birds and deer, I walked through the mud, and I swam in the Indian Ocean. Here are some pictures:

The mud-erbans, as I called the Sundarbans for about 24 hours before the joke got old. Okay, who am I kidding, that joke bombed big time.

Nothing like a nice walk in the mud.

The Indian Ocean! Cyclone Sidr did some serious damage to the Sundarbans, especially on the coastline.

Just cruisin' through some halophytic mangroves.

Near Khulna, we passed by this passenger boat. If you look carefully, the woman in the white Salwar Kameez is taking a picture of us. I wonder how long it will be before seeing foreigners in Bangladesh is not considered a picture-worthy event. In the meantime, I'm famous! The only appropriate way to respond to being photographed is to photograph right back, and that is how this picture was born.

My adventures in Chittagong, Bandarban, and Rangmati coming soon....

Since Forever

2008-11-18T05:04:00.006-05:00

Oh my gosh it has been forever since I have updated this blog. I suspect that the length of my average post was completely unsustainable. Let's try something new: short posts!

Welcome to Dhaka! My travels on an October weekend:

Near Dhaka University. The greenest part of the city by far.

There are people EVERYWHERE, even in the middle of fields. These ice cream stands actually had customers every ten minutes.

We met 10 people. 15 Million to go.

Down the Meghna

2008-09-26T06:21:00.008-04:00

A few weeks ago I chaperoned the IB Group 4 project for my school. I'm slowly picking up the IB jargon, so in July I would have thought "oh no, chaperoning..." but it's September so I know better, and Group 4 project means another boat trip! All Seniors taking a science class have to participate in this project analyzing water quality on Dhaka's rivers. Four teachers, twenty-five students, and boat! We traveled East of Dhaka, and met a boat on the Meghna river. Here we are, taxiing out to the boat (at dusk, so sorry for the blurry picture).

We ate dinner and went to bed so we could do experiments early the next day. You know you have good students when you tell them to wake up at 5:30am and no one complains. Since it's Ramadan, the muslim students had to wake up at 4:30am for Suhoor (the pre-dawn meal) anyway, so I think that put things in perspective for everyone. The hundreds of ants in my bunk-bed respectfully stayed below my knees, which I greatly appreciated.

We got up bright and early and the kids started experimenting. We made six stops along the trip, traveling down the Meghna river, and then up the Buriganga.

And the teachers posed for pictures.

We also had a little boat for experiments near the shore at each stop.

For a few of the stops I was feeling adventurous and got on the little boat. There are some beautiful bugs here! This dragonfly visited us while we did experiments at the shore.

Also, every time the little boat approached the shore we had an audience. It's hard to explain, because it's not like they see us coming and yell "hey everyone look at these people doing experiments in a boat!!" They just stop what they're doing and and watch, even if we stay for twenty minutes. This is after a good fifteen minutes anchored near the shore of the Meghna.

I also got to spend some quality time with two guys from the boat crew, Juyal and Kaosar during the two days on the boat.

They seemed almost unable to comprehend the fact that I could speak Bangla and Hindi. They both spoke Bangla, and Kaosar could speak Hindi too, so they kept testing me to see if I could understand what they were saying to me. For them, it was just chillin' during downtime on the boat, but it was great practice for me. At some point they found out that I could read and write Bangla and Hindi too, and after writing their names in both languages, they went nuts. In the afternoon, while the students were doing work, we sat at the front of the boat reading the billboards and signs along the shore.

It was great to get out of the city, because even though the rivers are busy, traffic on a river doesn't have the same sensory overload that traffic on a street does. Other than the boat engines, the only noise that I heard were the sound of garment factories along the shore running their looms, which went late into the evening. I leave you with some pictures of the boats and people that we passed along the way.

I'm Teaching!

2008-09-09T09:06:00.004-04:00

I realized that I haven't been talking about my job at all. I'm teaching at an international school, which means that it caters mostly to children who are from out of town. The school is way expensive, but when employees get sent overseas to work, they usually get an extensive benefits package, which includes education for their children at these private schools. There are some Bangladeshis, but their parents are probably loaded up the wazoo.

My job is going really well. The school hasn't had intern teachers before, so intially they were puzzled about what Sara, Beckley and I were supposed to do. In less than a week, teachers had figured out how helpful we could be, and were scrambling to get us in their classrooms. Right now I'm working with the High School Biology teacher, and I sometimes teach lessons in her IB Biology classes. I also run a half-hour seminar on modern Indian history in an IB History class. Basically, since we're not lazy, we're allowed to do whatever kind of work we want. Not a bad deal.

(photo credit: Asavari)

As you can see from the picture above, I'm the kind of teacher you probably thought I'd be. I puzzled for a couple of days how I could look more like a teacher, since I had gotten carded within the last 6 months at a rated R movie (i.e. there were doubts that I was 17 and capable of seeing Harold and Kumar without parental guidance). Moreover, I needed to look like a science teacher. Take note of my solution: tucked-in-plaid-shirts. Problem solved.

This Place is Beautiful

2008-08-22T09:07:00.014-04:00

The new teachers took a boat trip out of Dhaka. The boat ride was about 2 hours each way, and most if not all of the water we were on will be gone in a few months. If we wanted to take a boat trip, we'd have to drive about an hour farther than we did today just to reach water. We saw billboards poking out, waiting for the water to recede to resume advertising. This tree is probably not even close to submerged during other parts of the year:

You see these boats go by every once in a while that are so full of sand that they look like they should be sinking.

They are digging up sand and sending it to Dhaka to reclaim land for the river, i.e. to make more room for those 15 million people who somehow manage to squeeze into the city.

The boat trip was a welcome change from the city, especially since it's so hot and humid these days. It was breezy and Bangladesh is beautiful.

We also stopped in the village of the boat's captain and walked around. I talked to some people in Bangla, although I don't really know enough yet to go beyond simple questions. I asked kids how old they were, and where in the village they lived. Some of the kids are very fashion-forward; this kid (in the blue pants) has already heralded the beginning of the pants-above-belly-button movement.

Hollywood, I hope you're ready.

The kids wanted to show us how they catch something (I think snakes?) in the water. No catches today, but I got a good action shot!

The kids also love getting their picture taken and looking at themselves on the digital camera screen.

There's lot to talk about, boat trip and otherwise, but in the mean time, I had to put up some of these pictures. Also, by popular request, some of the pictures on this blog will actually include me. Here I am, in Bangladesh!

Solutions

2008-08-16T12:22:00.010-04:00

It has taken about two weeks of living in Dhaka to realize that you have to be creative to find things to do in Dhaka. Things must be pretty bad when someone like me notices a lack of nightlife. It is worth noting that we are on another level from the Hoboken-has-no-nightlife kinds of complaints. To buy alcohol at the liquor stores in Dhaka, you have to present your foreign passport. That's right, no liquor for bangladeshi citizens. There are bars in this country, but only at some of the high-end hotels and the international clubs. I've only made brief visits to the American and Australian clubs, and I haven't been to any of the bars yet but it's not lookin' good, people.

Now begins the search for things to do. Since Sara, Beckley and I are younger than the other employees at the school, I remain hopeful that we may not be out of luck yet. With few exceptions, we are also noticeably younger than all of the ex-patriates in Dhaka, who are mostly employed by Embassies, Businesses and NGO's. The international clubs seem like a welcome luxury (you can play Tennis, hire a hitting partner, and a ball boy for under $4 an hour) but if I work at an American school all day and then hop on over to the American club, why am I living in Dhaka? It's time to start exploring!

Well today Beckley and I went on a Hash run, which is this international organization of people who run and drink. Nope, not water. We met in front of the Parliament building, that Louis Khan building that people seem to know about.

Here was our meeting spot, before most of the people arrived. There are separate, simultaneous running and walking hashes, so all sorts of people show up.

I didn't bring my camera on the run, since I am as fast as a bullet and I don't like blurry pictures. We ran through Dhanmondi, which is a neighborhood close to the heart of downtown Dhaka. For Dhaka standards, it was a nice neighborhood, since it had some small lakes and walking paths. I don't ever see tourists in Bangladesh, and pretty much only foreigner sightings I have are in the Diplomatic Zone, where I live. Thirty foreigners running through downtown Dhaka was apparently an event worthy of pictures for the Bangladeshi kids with cameraphones. Not a moment went by without Bangladeshis looking over double-taking as they saw our human caravan jog leisurely on by. I'm not going to pretend that it isn't incredibly entertaining to be a spectacle literally everywhere you go. Speaking of the diplomatic zone, the US and Australian Ambassadors were along for the run, which probably means that I can't say anything else about what transpired. After running, we congregated on the roof of a five-story commercial building downtown.

There was a nice view from the building! I did all my picture taking too early, but dusk was gorgeous from the roof.

As dusk approached, everyone caught up and people were forced to drink beer for all sorts of silly reasons, which is the obvious thing to do after you run for 90 minutes. We found something to do in Dhaka!

The Stare

2008-08-11T03:34:00.003-04:00

One of the weirdest things for foreigners in South Asia is 'The Stare.' When people are curious, they have no problems just staring at you. If I catch someone looking at me in the states (or vice versa), we'll both quickly look away. In South Asia, looking back invokes not even the slightest blink from their eyes. They just keep staring.

Thanks to Beckley for being brave enough to take my camera and point it at people who were staring at him. I still haven't completely gotten over myself yet. In India I had noticed some people staring, but in Bangladesh its everywhere. Bangladesh is probably the opposite of a tourist destination to most people, so when I walk with other teachers through markets downtown, its as if people had just spotted a celebrity. Okay, more like a rare bird sighting.

I'm not completely surprised, because I literally have not seen one non-South Asian outside of the Diplomatic Zone in Dhaka so far. Not that we're the only ones, but the rare sightings must be something of an event for the locals.

Since it's raining...

2008-08-10T11:58:00.006-04:00

I'm slowly getting into the swing of Bangladeshi life after this first week. I've oriented myself for the most part, so let me tell you about where I live!

I live in Bangladesh, the most densely populated country on Earth. Bangladesh is about the size of Iowa, but contains half the population of the United States (about 150 million people). Bangladesh had been part of the Indian colonial holdings of the British Empire until 1947, when India was split into two independent nations, India and Pakistan. Present day Pakistan and Bangladesh were split from India into West and East Pakistan, respectively, an Islamic nation split by the entire nation of India. West Pakistan's grip over the government of Pakistan led to civil and political unrest in East Pakistan, which culminated in a bloody war for Independence from West Pakistan. West Pakistan is now Pakistan, and East Pakistan became Bangladesh.

The Bangladeshis speak Bangla (Bengali) and are ethnically Bengalis, a language and culture that they share with West Bengal (capital: Kolkata/Calcutta), the Indian state that borders Bangladesh to the west. West Pakistan's resistence to allowing Bengali as an official language of Pakistan was, and still is, an important symbolic grievance for East Pakistan. The Bengali Language Movement was a strong player in the years leading up to the war for Independence in 1971, and Bangladesh's annual independence holiday is called International Mother Language Day.

(The Call to Prayer microphone/sound-system at the Tara Masjid aka the Star Mosque in Old Dhaka)

I mention all of this because I can't leave my apartment without being reminded of the history that shaped this city. The Muslim call to prayer, which resounds five times daily from mosques throughout the city, including one a block from my house, ensures that I don't even have to leave my apartment to be reminded. I've been trying to learn Bangla for the past month or so, and even a simple 'kaemon achen?' ('how are you?') is enough to put a big smile someone's face. Bangla is not just a part of their culture, it's the pride of their nation. Many people are around the world love their country and their culture, but far fewer are truly able to say that they are proud of it like the Bangladeshis are. Maybe it's because only 37 years have passed, so the memory of the liberation war is not just a memory recorded in textbooks. I suppose Americans in 1820 must have felt the same way.

For the last ten years, India has been in the global spotlight. When Bangladesh achieved independence, Pakistan fled with most of the political and economic leadership. Struggling to find its footing on the world's stage, I'm witnessing a country that is lucky to make a footnote The Economist, but not for lack of trying. Dhaka is a city that looked completely different five years ago, and will probably be unrecognizable in the next decade.

I hear the call to prayer a few times every day, but even more often I hear the sounds of hand labor and construction. The skyline is laden with incomplete buildings.

I feel humbled, and blessed, to be able to witness this country in its explosive adolescence. The poverty around me is not a result of laziness; these men and women are working day and night to earn their meager salaries. The world may not care, but Bangladesh is trying.

Having Arrived!

2008-08-05T08:45:00.010-04:00

I arrived safe and sound in Dhaka five days ago! We have finally procured some home internet access, so the blogging begins. Here are some pictures I took in the last couple of days to tide you over while I get settled in.

Welcome to Bangladesh! This is a river of the main ferry ports in Dhaka.

Welcome to my apartment! Here's the view from the balcony outside of my room:

Say hi to my housemates, Beckley and Sara! I'm not sure if our cook Rehana actually thought we could eat all of that food, but Beckley tried his best.

Now the more observant among you may notice a six-week delay between the first and second posts on this blog. No one likes observations.

I have more pictures, which means more posts soon!!

The Beginnings

2008-06-24T00:42:00.001-04:00

This blog is being created under the most ordinary of circumstances. Eschewing the grand tradition of beginning a blog with a momentous declaration of purpose, I welcome you to Jimmy-Watch as I sit at home in suburban New Jersey, still wondering what happened to that lovely thing we call college. I have been given two absolutely wonderful months to do with what I please. If you have any doubts that these months are wonderful, then may I present to you exhibit A: This Blog, which you are reading, one of my many gifts to humanity. You’re welcome.

What am I doing with my time off? I have been busy looking for my friend Henry. Please spread the word. It looks so easy to make a viral video, but it is not. Only 62 views? Come on, people.

At this point, you may be hoping that I never attempt to be a part of Web 2.0 ever again. Well on July 29th I fly to Bangladesh, where I’ll be teaching science at an International School for one year. I don’t think they’ve invented Web 2.0 in Bangladesh yet, so your prayers have been preemptively answered.