A hard rain's a-gonna fall

What a day, what a day. This place rocks. What can I tell you--I started the day with my mission of getting a cell phone. Evidently to get a cell phone here, you have to provide them with 2 passport photos, your fingerprint, and present your passport. They mean business!
While I was waiting for my pictures to develop, I stopped for a cup of tea (pretty much the only thing I know how to order) in a tiny little diner/restaurant, where I was soon befriended by a grandfatherly old man who spoke a bit of English. As luck would have it, he works at one of the private hospitals in the city, and he invited me to come have a look. You can imagine that I was only too happy to hop in a rickshaw with him and head on over. We talked for a while over a cup of coffee (good coffee at that!) in the hospital cafeteria, which was far nicer than any hospital cafeteria I've ever seen in the states, and I learned that his wife and daughters are in Pakistan, and all of his brothers are in the states. After he saw me safely back to the photo place, I got his phone number and may meet up for lunch with him at some point later in my trip.
While buying my phone, there was another woman who I suppose was also buying a phone (mainly she sat there reading over my shoulder as I filled out forms and talking about me in Bangla), who took my number down as they gave it to me, and followed me outside to ask if she could call me and maybe she could practice her English with me. I figure I can use all the friends I can get!
Ate lunch in a legit Bengali place. I was not only the only westerner, I was also the only woman (which according to my guide book, is normal and does not mean that I'm not welcome). Folks here seem to be quick to look out for me though--not sure why, but I actually really like it. Everyone else was happily eating their rice with curry sauce and watery dhal WITH THEIR HANDS, which I can't even begin to figure out how that would work (also, you have to do things right handed here, that much I know), but luckily the owner found a fork for me. He also happily brought me out an "american salad", which consisted of cucumbers and hot chilis with lime. Now, I hate cucumbers more than anything on this earth, and normally would not touch them in a country where one is so prone to getting sick, but for this guy, who was clearly trying so hard to make me feel at home, I had to accept the generosity with a smile. Hopefully karma beats e coli. At the end of the meal, they brought me a bowl of water in which I washed my hands, and then the guy sent me over to a sink in the corner with a mirror so that I could wash all the curry off my face (I was not the only one who had to this, thankfully!).
I accomplished my other task of the day as well: to acquire a shalwar kameez, which is the long tunic-style shirt that virtually all the women wear here. BRAC has a branch called Aarong, which works to bring together poor women who make clothes and handicrafts and gives them a venue to get their goods to a bigger market through a series of stores in urban areas. I went to one today and bought my wardrobe for the trip--two of the shirts, a shawl, and a longer dress. Work starts tomorrow, so I have to look sharp! There's an all day meeting here with all the people who masterminded BRAC's tuberculosis program and currently run it, so it's a great introduction to the program and chance to meet all the people I'll want to interview.