Thanksgiving din din-ner

In 2008, I was in Bangladesh for Thanksgiving, I was casually invited to join a local celebratory dinner. I show up in jeans, and promptly am introduced to the founder of BRAC and his family, not to mention several other superstars in development.  It was a pretty amazing night--I was so busy trying to maintain my composure and not start shrieking like a teenage girl that I could barely taste the pumpkin pie.

So when that same family invited me to their pre-Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday, I was prepared.  I put on  nice clothes, and slipped into a nice set of shoes (which seemed unnecessary since I would be taking off my shoes at their door, but fashion all seems to fixate on the shoes).  I was not disappointed.  It was different families this time, but equally interesting and fun to chat with.  I learn about the various benefits that other institutions offer expats (everything from the ability to bring things in duty free to an allowance for duty-free alcohol) and talk to the founder of Bangladesh's first mobile money service about how when you visit Boston in the summer, it seems like such a nice place to live.  I first settle into a comfortable chair, noting how much furniture the room has (in contrast to mine), but as the room fills, I slip down onto the floor.  I've gotten more comfortable there, in my austere chairless entertaining set-up.  One woman who lived in Rwanda before moving to Dhaka talks about her set up there, which had a bed, a stool, and a dresser.  I've been avoiding inviting "adults" (people who have families or own things; or just seem generally more responsible than me) to my place because they'll judge me, but I told her she was welcome anytime.  She got it.  And I was not entirely surprised when her husband mentioned that he had 200 climbing handles that he wanted to put up in their house.  They are people who believe in turning a house into a complete living space.  Rock on.  When I find out that he's taken cooking classes and almost became a chef, and she's a killer baker, I decide that these are people that I should really cultivate a friendship with.  Operation make new friends officially begins this weekend, when I start stalking them at the American club.  I knew that membership would come in handy!  

Would you like some cheese with that wine?

L'CAVEAT D'JOUR:  The French have spent many decades creating a language composed of words that are seemingly impossible for me to pronounce or spell.  So I’ve just forgone the spell check on this one.  Good luck.  If you don’t understand what I’m talking about, you are just experiencing what the Parisians had to go through when I opened my mouth.

They say (at least someone famous said because I’ve heard it several times) that every (hu)man has two homelands: his own, and Paris.  For all the wonderful things that the city is, it does not feel like home.  Instead it feels like a beautiful city, set with beautiful buildings and beautiful people, who walk around acting beautiful all day.  You could hardly pick a greater contrast to Dhaka.  Perhaps the only commonality is the amount of leisure time.  The French are keen on enjoying themselves.  They scoff at us Americans that hustle and bustle, and complain about animal rights (I tried foi gras, and it was tasty.  Let the tomato throwing begin).  They drink wine with lunch quite naturally, and don’t think it decadent to order a coffee after they finish that foix gras, wine, wonderfully crunchy bagette, etc.  No hurry.  I had forgotten my watch and really had nowhere to be, so that suited my agenda just fine.  But I can’t imagine trying to work there.  It would be like taking my laptop to the opera or something—you just know it’s wrong.  So I think fears about the health of their economy are founded, but on a deeper cultural level.

Off broadway - "Rent" in Bangladesh

I've been living in apartments for five years now (more if you include summer stints), so I've gotten pretty used to the whole rent-paying song and dance.  I have to say, now that I've gotten past the "find an apartment" stage and am semi-finished with the whole "furnish an apartment stage", it's way more fun in Bangladesh than in New York or Boston.
There is no sticking a check in an envelope a few days before the end of the month here.  Oh no.  I don't have a local account or checkbook, so I pay in cold, hard, unmarked bills.  Gangsta style.  The highest bill here is the tk 1000 (about US $12), so it's literally a wad of cash that I hand over monthly.  Gas and electricity come to about US $7 a  month, combined.  Paying for the three guards and handy men downstairs is a bit more, about US $50 a month.  I've decided that the US $1.50 that they ask for in exchange for me just sitting my trash outside the door instead of carrying it downstairs (yes, in the elevator) is not to steep for me.
So, every month, usually the first Friday since that's our weekend, I stop by my landlord's brother's (on the first floor) to get my bill.  Then I come upstairs, count out the cash and take it back down.  He signs the bill and gives it to me for my records.  Then he counts the cash.  And then, he says, "Have a cup of tea?" and before I answer he's giving orders for the tea to be prepared.  BUT, as devoted readers will have noted by now, tea does not mean "tea."  It means a huge selection of foods and a cup of tea.  Today I had a small bowl of soup and some delicious sweet that his daughter had made (they have an oven!  I must infiltrate!).  Other times the options have included apples and french fries.  And "options" is not really the right word, because I'm expected to have a "yes, m'am," as in, all that is offered.  Good incentive to pay my rent!  I'll have to start using my nose to figure out what's cooking and choose the best day to drop by!

Spanish eyes and french kisses

 In a word, vacation was wonderful!  It's totally different to go to Europe when you live in Bangladesh than to come from the United States.  I appreciated the cities in a way that I didn't before(public transportation, hot showers, ability to move around alone at night; fantastic!).  But I also found myself laughing at some of their uses of technology.  For example, in France, they have these nifty electronic signs in parking garages that tell you which floors are full, so you don't go there.  We just have a person in the parking lot to direct you in Dhaka.  Cheap labor can go a long way.

In Barcelona, I was mainly alone during the day.  And lacking my own guide book, I had borrowed the one sitting in Camilo's apartment.  Only one slight problem: it was in Italian.  So while useful for the prices, hours, and locations, I was less than perfectly informed about where I was heading at most times.

Nonetheless, I found the Sagrada Familia.  It's not finished yet even though the architect died decades ago!  I'm not sure how the purists feel about it.  I loved how light it was inside (none of that dreary feeling often filling big churches and cathedrals).  I sat down on one of the pews to just enjoy the scenery and ended up taking a siesta.  No one seemed to mind too much.  Refreshed, I got up and headed to another Gaudi creation, El Pedrero.  Upon reaching it, I realized it was 15 euros to go in this house!!  Too much, I decided.  So I enjoyed the view from the outside, and the gift shop, and headed across the street.  To Starbucks.  Like I said, when you are coming from Bangladesh you have a different agenda.  Starbucks reminds me of home and I miss mocha frappucinos (no offense to my coffee shops here).

Other highlights of the Barcelona portion of my itinerary include:

Fun and sun Catalonya style

Cough, cough....sorry boss, I need a
sick day......

Yesterday, I officially transferred from the Health Department to the Communications Department at BRAC.  As my first official act of duty, I took a week of vacation.  In defense of this decision, Nov. 5-8 is when Eid is observed this year, so those days I already had off, and if I didn't stay in Europe for Nov. 1-4, how was I going to use my holidays to visit Barcelona?  Exactly.
So I'm in the lovely city of Barcelona, capital of the Catalan language movement.  Bangladesh is a country were a lot of lingual pride; I could see them and the Catalonyans sitting down and appreciating each other's struggles.  Signs here are mainly in Catalan.  Young people here talk to each other in Catalan; no chance of this language dying out any time soon.  I'm sticking to Spanish, with a few Bangla words or constructions thrown in (facil na!!) to make it slightly less intelligible.
The weather is beautiful.  T-shirt and flip slops all you need to head down to the water and wander.
I'm lucky to have a "local" "guide."  As the winds of fate would have it, Camilo,my friend from the Colombian family that adopted me in Cartagenas, moved to Barcelona in April.  He lives in an apartment with a Catalan, a Peruvian, and a Honduran.  And many strays, like myself, seem to be constantly cycling through.  So Camilo showed me around yesterday--it was All Saints day, which in Europe is a holiday (Catalans eat chestnuts and sweets to celebrate--I can get behind that).

Give a Lille bit

Our book launch on the Oct. 27 took place at a conference in Lille, France.  Most of what I saw was the Lille Grand Palais Conference Center (not so interesting), but I went out one afternoon to see what else was to be seen.  Here are a few snaps.

I stood here for a while......

The French do many things in ways that I find absolutely ridiculous.  I never thought that societal values could be seen in say, choices of elevator buttons, but they can.  The French don't put a "door close" button in their elevators.  You would only need one if you were rushing.  They go in good time.  I got a little crazy when I was trying to rush and couldn't!  But, in my eyes, the French redeem themselves for many small absurdities by embracing chocolate as an anytime food.  And everytime food.

Le grand place

Can't you just here Redemption song playing in the background?

How much glass can I fit into my suitcase on the way home?

Christmas decorations are already underway!  No Thanksgiving to wait for.....

European sunset.

Theatre downtown.

If anything looks weird, it's either because they are French, or it's Halloween.

Required European war statue

Someone translate this for me?  I'm pretty
sure it doesn't say "The Help"

Got to use up that nutella!  Yum!

A fleur de lis--or a Lily.  Fitting for Lille.  They smell heavenly!