Blowing in the wind

So I've realized that there's no way to explain Dhaka to someone who isn't here--it's like trying to explain colors to a blind person. It's simultaneously huge, as in, you can walk for half an hour and not be sure you've gotten anywhere (How many roads. . . ?), and really small--the roads are barely wide enough for a rickshaw, and you can't see anything besides the buildings on each side, so you have no sense of the scope of the city. The vast majority of the time, I am the only white person visible (I think yesterday in my day's wanderings in Old Dhaka I saw two other whites, and probably over 1000 Bangladeshis), but more than that, I am one of the few, if not only, women out. This was particularly true yesterday when all the men were out to go to mosque, but I think I'm now much more acutely aware of the gender ratio than the attention I get for being light-skinned. In some areas, this is changing, the BRAC headquarters has a fair number of women, but it's definitely extremely different from anywhere I've ever been.
I was trying to find an art store yesterday and after searching for over an hour (so I can't read street signs here and usually can't figure out where I'm starting, which makes using a map, especially a bad one, hard), including a foray down Hindu street, which was pretty interesting, and bicycle road, where one can buy anything from tricycles to rickshaws, I was pretty much ready to give up, and so happily accepted an invitation to have tea on the street with a pair of brothers coming out of mosque. We enjoyed our tea as the crowd grew around us, with people asking excitedly, "What is your country?" and all sorts of other things. One guy carrying a cage of canaries came up and laughingly asked me if I wanted one to take home. I declined. After two cups of tea, I was invited to a family's nearby apartment for lunch. I went and ate, cross-legged on a rug, using my right hand to eat rice, lentils and chicken curry. On my way down the stairs, the neighbors came out to see what was going on, and promptly invited me in for dessert. I have no idea what it was, but it sure was tasty! We then headed over to a pool hall where one of the guys worked, and in the rickshaw ride over, they requested that I sing, "Careless Whisper" by Michael Bolton. How could I say no?
After playing pool for a while (just to note, I was wearing a scarve for these games and may well have been the only woman to ever play pool at this place), I decided that I should probably head home if I wanted to get there by dark. Buses in Dhaka leave something to be desired--they are overflowingly (literally, people are coming out the doorway and hanging off the roof), not numbered, and have no designated stop. Also, their idea of a stop is to slow down enough for you to hop on or off. So when I say that I took the bus home, I want you to understand what an accomplishment/experience this was. My friends helped me find one going to Gulshan, and as an unaccompanied woman, I sat up in front by the driver. After the first 20 minutes, I had no idea where we were, and after 40 minutes, I decided that I really had never been anywhere near where we were. But, when the ticket guy told me that we'd arrived at "Gulshan" (the neighborhood where I'm staying) and pointed me to the left of the bus, helping me get situated to jump off, I just did what he said. 10 minutes later, the sign of the Westin hotel appeared and then I was totally oriented and managed to land a rickshaw that got me home just as dark was truly setting in.
Last night I went to the apartment of two world bank health economists for a tasting of wines available in Dhaka (evidently given that only foreigners can buy alcohol and there are few foreigners, it has not become a wide variety). It's interesting to see the ex-pat's lifestyles here and think about whether my life here would look similar and whether, based on their experiences, it's something that appeals to me. The jury is still out. Though, I plan to get on my plan on the 17th, either way. The people here are as friendly as they come and more curious than just about anyone I've ever met. That's probably the only thing that makes this trip possible and almost as importantly, a lot of fun. I've had a lot of "Hello. Your country please?" conversations, but if that's the debt I pay for being unable to say much in Bangla other than Hello/Goodbye; yes; no; no problem; okay; dog; eggplant; and water; I think that it's relatively small. It will be something I miss in the city of Boston, where there is not such as sense of collective energy and interaction.

Maybe, before my trip ends, I'll find that art shop. But I'm finding that Dhaka often has its own agenda that sweeps you along. That's what indhakactrination is all about.