First days in Dhaka

I've arrived! In the light of day and some sleep hours later, my temporary life here in Dhaka seems considerably less overwhelming. I decided not to post until now (almost 24 hours after landing) because, to be honest, I was pretty worn out, confused, and overwhelmed. Now I’ve used that word twice in one paragraph – maybe for emphasis, maybe for lack of a more descriptive word. It’s 7 am here, and after a breakfast of white bread, peanut butter, and tea –- and after a long Skype chat last night with the lovely Dani who has already been here for 2 months… there’s a story to be told.

It feels like two hours ago and two weeks ago that I arrived at the Atlanta airport. The plane rides were an odd haze of sleep, observation, and movies (I told someone recently that I heard the latest Matt Damon movie was crap, but The Adjustment Bureau saved me from two of those ATL-Dubai hours J). I’d never felt so conspicuous as I drew stares, especially from the Dubai airport onwards. Even dressing in grays and baggy pants doesn’t lessen the contrast between American and Muslim (to put it very, very generally) female dress.

I deplaned in Dhaka in a sort of half-sleep haze, and was met before the customs desk by our airport escort from ICDDR,B. The customs desk was just two men sitting behind a desk, checking passports. Mr. Hasan then took me over to one kiosk to change some money to Taka, and another to buy a SIM card (for use in the Grameenphone that I’d purchase a little later). I’d read that the Dhaka airport is chaotic, but didn’t really experience that until we went to pick up my bag… there were 440 passengers on my Emirates flight from Dubai, meaning… a ton of bags, all on two carousels. Unfortunately, the feeling I expressed to Mr. Hasan about losing my bag due to the changes in my flights (which he refused to believe) turned out to be true; a baggage claim attendant came through after about 15 minutes of waiting calling my name. My bag was never scanned in at Dubai, so for now, it’s in baggage la-la land. We spent about another 30-45 minutes (though by this point, time meant nothing to me) at the baggage claim desk (again, just another desk with men sitting behind it, though I think this one had a very old word processor), where Mr. Hasan went between me and them submitting information for them to get in touch with me or ICDDR,B once they find my bag. That bag would be a little helpful now in taking a shower… as it held all my toiletries.

Then, we stepped out into the Dhaka air – my first time outside in more than 30 hours – into an immediate wave of humidity and pungent smells. Mr. Hasan asked how warm it is where I’m from, and I said well… just as hot (or hotter right now) but not nearly so humid. Our driver pulled up in a couple of minutes in the ICDDR,B van, and off we went into Dhaka traffic. But before we left the airport grounds, there were people lining the fence along the airport pick-up drive peering in – a first glimpse of real Dhaka.

The roads and traffic into Dhaka were, simply, intense. The range of vehicles here is huge: regular sedans and vans (which we were in), cycle rickshaws, motorized rickshaws (called CNGs) with cages on the back enclosing passengers, buses (which themselves run the gamut in condition). People are EVERYWHERE; there are small crowds of people everywhere you look, going about their various lives – catching buses, selling things, building things, gathering. There are so many images from that drive that I wish I could express now, but I’m sure I’ll have pictures in the coming weeks to convey them. The images of people from the trip from the airport to our apartment are the most intense.

[On a side note, I forgot my camera memory card… so will hopefully be able to find one here. Or… I’ll have to take about 15 pictures at a time, ha.]

On the way to the student apartment where I’m staying, I introduced Mr. Hasan and our driver to blueberries! I’d totally forgotten to empty the last few berries from the Tupperware I’d been carrying from Atlanta (the last thing I had left from the food I carted on the trip), and he had seen them as I took things out looking for my baggage claim ticket. I think they were less than enthralled, though, as this particular box had a bunch of sour berries. We also stopped on the way to buy me a new cell phone to use while I’m here (my Droid can’t be used here). Two shops and some bartering between Mr. Hasan and boys selling all kinds of cell phones later, I had a Grameenphone.

Now on to the student apartment… it’s in the diplomatic section of town, which I’m told is cleaner and more affluent than most of Dhaka because it’s where expats live. When we arrived, our housekeeper had gone out for a couple of hours, so we had to call ICDDR,B and make other arrangements because there was no key to get in. This part of the day was such a haze that it feels like a dream – finding out we didn’t have a key, being taken over to a “club” nearby to stay in another room there for a few hours, showering, laying down and almost falling sleep before getting a call that a car would be sent over to bring me back to the student apartment, and then finally getting to the student apartment a few hours later to be let in by the housekeeper. Now that you’ve read that stream of consciousness, here’s a few pictures that I did take of that room so you get a feel for it. I'll take pictures of the student apartment later.

Now fast forwarding through the rest of my first 24 hours, I’ve been sleeping, eating some, chatting with friends from home to maintain some normalcy because the rest of the students in this apartment are away right now so I’ve been alone since I got here, and now writing this post. I’ve stepped so immediately so far outside my comfort zone that it’s crazy to think how simple things (finding food, showering, finding your way around) are using 150% of my senses right now. The first 24 hours have been confusing and difficult, but there’s only up to go from here…