6-9-2011: The End...

I sat in the white room watching the once strong man lie sick in his bed as the cancer slowly ate away at his life. The beeping of the numerous machines with tubes connecting to his body assuring us he was alive. The clock struck midnight as the doctor took off his oxygen mask so we could talk to him. My cousins father-in-law lay sick in bed with cancer, no one knew if he would survive it, so on my last night in Dhaka we decided it would be fitting to visit him. As he held the hand of his daughter, talking to her undoubtedly about their deep love for one another, I couldn’t help but think of my dad. I looked into his eyes and tried to envision the Bangladesh he remembered, and through my experiences over the last month here, I was truly able to do so.

A hiking trail deep in the mountains of Bangladesh...

My last full day in Bangladesh consisted of running around visiting family, shopping for family and friends back home, and trying to fully take in what I was surely going to miss about this country. The days I would wake up with a servant cooking and cleaning for me, the days in which family would go out of there way to show me around the cities, and the days I would hang around with my dad without a care in the world…they would surely be missed.

A waterfall I came across while on a hike...

Cars rolled by as I looked out the window, waiting in the long Dhaka traffic to get to destination called, “New Market” to get my last bit of shopping done. The sun blazed down on the bright green trees as the thousands of people walked by going about their business. Billboards advertising the latest Honda motorcycle enticed passersby as I noticed a woman carrying large fruits over her head like you would see on National Geographic. As I sit in the car, I couldn’t help but wonder what my new perspectives I’ve gained from this trip would bring me as soon as I got home; surely, a new appreciation for everyone, everything, and anything.

"New Market"

The sky was bright blue when we finally got to new market. The humid day instantly brought sweat to my face as I noticed that this shopping experience would be more than your average trip to the mall. New Market was like a bazaar from Aladdin, only the stalls (outdoor shops) stretched from street to street, and block to block; endless. The amount of people was a sight to behold; shoulder to shoulder, like New York on steroids. Every step couldn’t be taken without bumping into someone. There were shops with men practically begging you to bring them your patronage, while women with children asking to spare them some money. As we nestled into our first stop, my cousin started bartering for gold bangles I promised my mom back home, I listened as their voices got louder which each price named. “30!” “40” “35!” Finally a deal was struck, my cousin seeming happy that her bargaining strategy worked.

The shops were endless at New Market...

The little details of these experiences are what you remember throughout your life, and this was surely one of them. We left after getting our shopping done not too long after, drenched in sweat and full of life from the interactions of the day.

Some specialty sweets being freshly made...

Later that evening dinner was accompanied by a reddish haze of a sunset along with tiny droplets of rain I barely noticed. My cousins and I got out of the air conditioned car and stepped foot inside a nice café reminiscent of Starbucks. We laughed, shared stories that we thought we’d never shared due to the vast distance between our places of residences, and we drank great coffee. Etched in my memories are the smiles we shared.

You see, travel brings a new perspective to everyday life. Little intricacies that we take for granted (like drinking water, or running electricity), are magnified when you travel; you learn to appreciate the little things. For me, traveling always brings me a new appreciate for life, for MY life, and for the situation I’ve been graced with. Not only this, but it also gives me an appreciation for the people I’ve been blessed to come across while on my travels; from the little farmers at the beginning of the trip, to my family, to the families begging for money. This is why I brought up the sick man, through his sickness and will to live brought me a better appreciation for what I have. It brought me a better appreciation for my family, for my friends, for everything. I’m leaving Bangladesh with all of this better understood, sure a new car is nice, but can one really put a price on sharing a good laugh over a beer with your dad? Life doesn’t have to be appreciated through traveling, but it helps. But it doesn’t take traveling to appreciate the intricacies you should enjoy everyday; laughter, family, friends. I will miss this country, but I will be sure to come back very soon.

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.

5-25-2011: A Hitchhikers Guide to Dhaka

The Dhaka Cityscape; A Residential Area...

Dhaka is one of the more beautiful cities I have ever had the chance to visit. Consisting of the dense population of New York, the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, and the never ending buildings of Paris, Dhaka is truly one of a kind. For being a poor city, Dhaka thrives on achieving goals set out by their people and the government to become a developed country.

The weather here is very different from California. Being a tropical country, you can expect very humid days, 10 quick minutes of rain, then humid, sunny, weather all in the matter of an hour.

Dhaka, and more specifically Bangladesh, is an under-developed country. The social class consists of a very wealthy upper-class, an almost non-existent middle class, and a very large poor class.

The markets here are like nothing I’ve ever witnessed(other than in Vietnam). They have fishermen who sell the fish, craftsmen that sell the wood, blacksmiths that sell iron, and farmers that sell produce. Nothing like the vast Wal-Marts and Albertsons we see in the States. When you shop through these people, you feel a connection to what you eat and who you’re buying from. Too often we lose sight on where our food comes from, and we lose true connection with the very earth that our produce comes from. I find it to be saddening to know that as time passes, we slowly lose control of being closer to the earth and the people that bring us food. Instead, we eat chemically enhanced food that is more probably detrimental to our health. Saying this, I know that the food has a fresher taste to it here. The carrots crisp, the fish fresh, the bananas sweet, and the rice soft.

A Farmer Selling Produce...

Bangladesh, being a Muslim country, serves no alcohol in stores. The only place you find a drink would be in a hotel, and even then, they only serve to foreigners with passports. The kids out here don’t depend on drinks to have a good time, or to socialize with friends. Instead they go to parks with girlfriends, eat great local food with family, or even catch a Bollywood flick as a group. Suffice to say I do enjoy the occasional beverage, I find it very interesting to know that people my age going out without alcohol having a good time exists.

A CNG Powered Mini-Taxi (You can hire them to take you anywhere around the city)...

The streets in Dhaka are porous and unpaved. Occasionally (near the airport), you find beautiful roads like we see in the States. The worst thing about Bangladesh is the traffic. You must remember that the population here is very dense; half the U.S. population in the area of Maine. In a one half-mile stretch you can see endless cars, buses, vans, mini-taxis, and Rickshaws huddled together muscling for every inch available on the road. This leads to traffic jams that take over an hour to travel 15 miles. Headaches follow.

Traffic in Dhaka...

Dhaka is beautiful, and although has its problems like every other metropolis, I love visiting here. The people are more than friendly, the food is terrific, and the city has a certain charm to it that every great city has. You can get the vibe of a western city in some areas, or become fully enchanted in the culture of Bengali's to become influenced to write poetry. All aspects of life can be experienced here; and that is the mark of a truly great place to visit.

5-22-2011: A Picture Says A Thousand Words...

The Sun Setting on the Meghna River...My Dad and Cousin in the Foreground.

It is a human condition to want to transfer oneself to another life. To be someone else, to live somewhere else, to be someone we’re not…even for just a day. I believe this to be the reason why we are so infatuated with the superhero; to just switch persona in the blink of an eye. This is why we always hear ourselves, or people, often say we would love to be anywhere but here (here being our current residence or life situation). Sometimes we are given that opportunity, sometimes we’re not. Often times, that opportunity is given to us in the form of a life changing experience. All in the same, we come to the realization that life is meant to be cherished, regardless of situation or personal stature.

I truly believe that the aforementioned opportunity was given to me these last two days... Let me explain.

As many of you know, I have been in Bangladesh for the last 10 days. I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited Dubai and Dhaka, to see factories, see people, and meet family that previously only Facebook had the pleasure of granting. But on this day, I had the pleasure of visiting the villages in which my ancestors lived.

I’ve always wanted to get away from the world. To travel, but not in the sense of seeing other western cultures (once you’ve seen Los Angeles, Paris, and London you’ve pretty much seen all western civilization has to offer in my opinion), but to see what true working class people live through. I’ve longed for this since I could remember and visiting the village gave me this chance.

The Village I Stayed In...

The trip to the village from Dhaka was about a 120 mile drive, but since roads and over-population are such grand problems in Bangladesh, it was about a 7 hour drive. Not withstanding, the drive was one that was truly memorable. The slow de-evolution of civilization as the drive progressed was amazing; as every hour passed, I could literally see society slowly going from civilized to primitive. Bumpy roads, crossing rivers, honking horns to clear cattle and people, soul piercing gazes from the locals...all were experienced on this particular drive. In one instance, we actually had to drive through a cyclone that tore branches off of trees, cleared out homes, and flipped over trucks. To say the least, the journey to the village was just as noteworthy as the visit itself.

Where I Slept...

As we arrived to the village we were met by local villagers and distant relatives of mine. I got out of the car and felt like a celebrity, locals gazing at me as if I were on the red carpet. I did my best to be as humble as possible, saying hi to everyone, but I knew no one understood me.

Local Kids Playing Some Footer (Soccer)...

I knew going into the trip that I was going to be going into something that I have never experienced in my life, after reaching the village, my previous expectations were far surpassed. No electricity, cattle, fields of wheat as far as the eye could see and a village with the population of no more than 10 people. The first thought to come to mind was that I was on “Survivor.” It was truly a stark comparison to what I had just witnessed a few days back in my uncles multi-billion dollar company.

Rice and Wheat Fields Ready for Cultivating...

My relatives were amazing. Although they never met me, and they were far reaching relatives, they treated me to goat meat and rootie, a special type of bread (this food was a special treat saved for special events in the village). They also showed me around the village and explained to me that the previous rain season brought more wheat than in the last 10 years, but there was a problem, they were under-manned to cultivate the grain in time for the next rain season. I saw this as the perfect opportunity to help with the effort. I must say this, harvesting grain is one of the most intensive labor jobs one can do; it is back breaking and offers almost no pay.

Later that day I fished for dinner and showered in the Meghna River. This experience brought me complete joy. For the first time in ages I was able to just hang out with my dad, school and business in the back burner. We talked, we laughed, and we even played games. 50 years from now, I know I will look back at that, and remember my dad for that certain time…

The most vivid memory of the trip was sitting under a tree, reading my book (JD Sallinger), the humid breeze crisp and delightful, watching the villagers pick the grains, all while the beautiful reddish sun set on the horizon. In one word; divine. It was as if God painted this particular picture, at this particular moment, just for me.

You see, we usually long for moments like this in our lives. It is romantic. It also helps break the monotony of everyday life. Can I safely say that it’s not for everyone? Sure. But can I also sit here and tell you that everyone should try it? Of course. Nothing will replace the memories I had on this particular trip; not Vegas, not Europe, not anything I can think of. To try and put this particular trip into summation would do it an injustice. So I’ll leave you with a picture instead:

The Sun Setting in the Meghna

5-17-2011: Green Trees and Grey Buildings

On the way to the factory...

Have you ever wondered where your clothes come from? Why you pay so much for them? Or what was the true difference between brands and labels? Its all in here and the answers are more frustrating than not.

The factory I had the chance to visit today was owned by my uncle, Babul. A quick back story on my uncle; he was the poorest of the group, my dad often would give him about 2 taka (less than a dime) everyday to come hang out then take a Ricksha (A man powered bike/taxi that Bangladesh and Vietnam are known for) back home. He lost family members in the Bangladeshi independence war of 1971 and in 1987 he created his garment company, DBL Group. He now is worth in the upwards of 1.5 Billion Dollars, talk about rags to riches…

This certain journey had me traveling through dense foliage and green vegetation as far as the eyes could see. It was utterly gorgeous. It also took me upon a journey of self doubt, mental rejuvenation, and realization.

The car ride to the factory was about 35 miles from Dhaka city, but due to the heavy traffic (Dhaka has half the United States population in a country the size of Maine), it took us about an hour and a half to arrive. On arrival we were met by a heavy metal gate with guards that were forced to salute us at every turn. This I found to be unnecessary mainly due to me not being of any real value, especially to be saluted like a foreign dignitary of some sort, but nonetheless it was nice. The compound was huge. It contained about 3 separate factories that were each the size of two football fields. It turned out he employed over 21,000 Bangladeshis that were previously not employed (I will get back to this later). Upon entering one of the factories, I noticed huge spinning wheels that were worth about 1 million dollars each.

A production line of shirts. Funny that they happened to be of The Beatles.

One thing that left me really astonished with in the factories was that each company that contracted my uncle’s work had exactly the same requirements. By this I mean that each piece of clothing came from the same production line, same cotton, same manufacturer, and definitely the same person. It turned me on to my previous belief that, for the most part, all of the clothes we buy in the U.S. are practically the same. We spend money on different brands and tags that are essentially the same. Our fashion magazines feed us this belief that if we don’t buy their products, or if we buy someone else as opposed to theirs, we aren’t hip or cool. People spend entire paychecks on fashion, and for what? I realized that it was all a sham, a gimmick, a fad. All of this I can attain to this trip inside the factory.

One remarkable thing about my uncle’s compound is that it contained a medical clinic for all of his employees, and also a daycare for women that had children with no one to care for them while they worked. I found this to be very telling in the type of company he chooses to run contrasted with the way U.S. companies treat their employees.

After leaving the plant, we were taken to the zoo that was kept on the compound; a personal collection of rare animals, if you will. Bears, alligators, emus, rabbits, dear, foxes, and monkeys were all present. I guess this is how billionaires spend their money; absolutely eccentric, yet interesting.

Outside of the factories with my cousins, my dad, uncle, and Albert (A fashion designer)

The main thing I wanted to get at in this blog was to talk about the dichotomy I was in while visiting my uncle’s factory. I’ve always wanted to become rich based on my own merits; to be unfathomably well off from my own hard work. But I also have a strong tie to humanity; to people who are oppressed, misrepresented, subjugated and exploited. I often thought of business moguls in other countries that took advantage of their people to be ruthless and evil. But while I was at the factory I began to wonder and think…would these people have jobs if it weren’t for these people? Should I be happy for them? Is it not better to be paid, than not be paid at all? For $50 a month, I truly cannot say.

5-14-2011: Impressions of Dubai, UAE...The Filthy Rich Whiny Oil Country

Dubai from the Plane.

I remember back when I first started traveling someone referred to the United Arab Emirates as the whiny Arab oil rich country. After arriving, I can see why and why not this country should be known as more than that.

I landed on a luke warm day, the sun barely coming over the horizon. Many of you know how scared deadly I am of plane rides, especially upon landing, but for some reason on this day I felt at peace. Upon landing I noticed how commercialized the country was, but in a different way. Whereas we're used to white men all over billboards or commercials, they have Arab men dressed in traditional garb selling their products to the masses. I found this to be very telling of what many of us refer to as the "global market." Travelers from all over the world centered themselves at Dubai on this day.

Words cannot express the luxury, the extravagance, the utter eccentricity of this country. Buildings with waterfalls, television shows being projected onto thinly sprayed water walls (think Disneys World of Color), marble tiles for no apparent reason, luxury cars at every turn, and of course beautiful women from all scopes of the globe. I have to also say that the Dubai International Airport (solely made for their countries flagship airlines Emirates) is THE best airlines and airport I've ever been to. The roads are clean, the people are nice, and the food is delicious.


Back to Dubai. I had the chance to meet and drink with a few wealthy Arab professionals that I met in the airport. I was able to ask them about their perceptions of America, the world economy, and their culture. Its funny to see how the American perspective, or being American, can sometimes skew your sense of what the world really is. By this I mean, its sometimes very easy to become egocentric within ones country and place, especially when you're American. It's easy to put ourselves on a pedestal, to see others as inferior. It was a very humbling experience for me to be able to talk to these men, to say the least.

I didn't spend as much time in Dubai like I wish I could've, but on the way back to the States after Bangladesh, I plan on staying in Dubai for 3 more days.

I apologize is this blog was more rambling and not structured as others, but I'm jet lagged and wanted to get something out before I fell behind on writing.

Love and miss you all,
Live from Dubai,
Sonny