6-1-2011: A Walk, A Backpack, A Notepad...

I opened my notepad and made my way throughout the huge metropolis, getting ready to experience and seize the day that lay ahead. As I walk the streets of Dhaka, the sun beats down on my neck like the feeling you get when a rubber ball hits your face surprisingly. I meet the eyes of numerous people and I can only wonder what crosses their mind as they see me walk. As I progress, I can’t help but meet eye contact with each person that passes me, wondering to myself what they see through there eyes, am I an alien to them? For all they know, I could very well be.

This was my day of adventure; business and family matters in the back burner. I packed my backpack full of refreshments and just enough snacks to get me through the day. My plan was to walk as far as I could, take pictures, take notes, eat, drink, and experience the city inside and out. This is the city my father was raised in, this is Dhaka.

My first stop was a little corner food stand. Common sense would tell me to stay away from such places due to high chances of getting sick from the foods, but after watching years of Anthony Bourdain and the travel channel, I know that my inner soul wouldn’t allow me to shy away from this great experience. To eat what the people eat, to see what the people see. As my eye dashed through the choices of food, my stomach eagerly chose what was to be had; a vegetable samosa. Think of a hot pocket; flaky, doughy, but the inside was filled with Indian-spiced vegetables. Very tasty. Contrary to what most peoples conceptions are of street food (including my own pre-conceived notion), the food was amazing and didn’t get me sick. I topped it off with some fresh mango juice and made my way. Its also worth nothing that the price of all of this was about 50 taka, or .60 cents. Great food doesn’t need to be at a premium.

I continued on my journey to find myself at the Bangladesh Pan Pacific hotel, one of the few actual 5 star hotels in Bangladesh. A Bengali person would be the first to exclaim that that there are many 5 star hotels here, but to the contrary, only few exist. This one was truly amazing. As I entered the lobby, an armed guard greeted me with a smile, asking where I wanted to go, I told him I was looking for a cold drink and he happily pointed me in the right direction. One thing I have to mention; the Bengali people are truly genuine, caring, people. They are hard-working, there intentions are good, and they thrive to become a developed nation. More engineers and doctors are jobless in the streets then you could imagine.

Entering the Lobby of the Hotel...

As I entered the lobby, I was hit with a cold wind from the AC, the air inside vastly differing from the hot/humid Bengali day. I was thrilled. The hotel was beautiful; indigenous art draped from the high ceilings, gold lined furniture placed beautifully across the marble floors, a talented pianist playing classical music in the background. The ambiance was that of a 5-Star hotel you would find anywhere in the States. The detailing was magnificent.

Cold Beer, Ipad, Memories in Tow...

I walked across the lobby to meet the eyes of foreigners from across the globe; Chinese men talking politics with English men, Bengali men talking business with Korean men. I made my way to one part of this grand lobby and noticed a wall of pictures containing important people and diplomats from all over; presidents, first ladies, duchesses, prime ministers, artists. It was awe inspiring to see these things on a global scale.

It was time for a drink. A cold Heineken in hand, great music, and a full stomach brought a surreal feeling, one that I won’t soon forget.

Try Crossing These Streets as the Cars Zoom By...

A thing worth mentioning is that crossing the streets in less developed countries is like a game of life and death. I faced the same ordeal in Vietnam. Have you ever heard of the game Frogger? It’s a lot like that. Some streets have traffic lights, some don’t, but one thing you can bet on; people just go. Crossing the street requires proper timing, guessing, and a bit of luck. My personal strategy is to wait until a local crosses, hide behind them, and mirror every step they take as cars zoom by while even bigger buses try to crush you. A game of life and death I tell you…

I decided that a great adventure day had to consist of experiencing the local markets. As my buzz set in from the two earlier beers (I haven’t drank in about a month, so it came easily), the idea seemed to become magnified. Markets in countries like these are not like ones you and I are accustomed to. They consist of alleys filled with people with booth type stalls on each side of the walls that stretch as far as the eye could see. From shampoo, to fish, to bread, to produce…all were here to be found. The ground unpaved, blue rain covers and wood usually serve as separating devices for owners and their booths, no price is ever fixed, that is, you can always haggle for a lower price.

As I drew closer to the market, the humid day making the rank smell of fish and produce intensify, I knew that I was in for a great experience. To my left fishermen drooling at the idea of a foreigner with money spending on their daily catch, to my right, children jockeying for position at the chance of this foreigner giving money to them. Memorable, to say the least.

A Man Selling Fish in the Markets (He's weighing the fish with iron pieces to determine the price)...

As I meandered curiously through the market, thoughts of home started to sink in. I thought of days when I would sit at home and dream of days like this. I’ve had the privilege and great opportunity to travel all over the world and the feeling never gets old; each experience and country bringing something new to my perspective on life. I thought of my friends, my family, old loves, new ones. I wondered about the days when I would get down on myself for not pushing myself to reach greater heights, to travel more. I pondered about petty things that often caused friendships to break up, and in the grand scheme of things, were so little. Some of the things my friends would say; why they weren’t making enough, why they hated their family, why they weren’t happy with things. I wondered these things as I looked around this market, as these people worked so hard for so little. And I thought to myself, “We have it made.”

The sun set on this beautiful day. Experiences well in mind, detailed memories written in my notepad. Dhaka took a lot out of me, but in return, gave me memories and an experience that I won’t soon forget.