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