First Impressions...

We live in Bangla-Freakin’-Desh! How cool is that?! We call it that out of the disbelief and wonder over this huge change we’ve made in our lives.  We’re here because my husband listened to me when I said I was restless and wanted to see more of the world and have new experiences. I will love him forever for that.

Dhaka is indescribable. 

If you can’t feel the sultry weight of the super-heated air or smell the ever present scent of smoke and dirt and garbage, or hear the incessant blaring of a thousand horns, how can you understand its chaotic charm? I haven’t figured out why yet, but the air always smells like firecrackers.

Is it a beautiful city? No. Not really. Not if you just glance at it, but take a moment to stop and look closer and you will see its beauty; Its intrigue. It’s a confusing city. On filthy dirt side streets with huge potholes and no sidewalks you will find stunning homes with architecture to rival the Getty Museum. Glistening-ly exotic and beautiful homes with marble columns and vaulted ceilings, and sleek modern buildings of painted concrete and glass clash jarringly with their squalid surroundings. 

The real beauty of Bangla-Freakin’-Desh is in its people.  Yes, they stare at foreigners like they have just dropped out of warp space and beamed all sparkly and shiny onto the road in front of them, yes they live in what any part of the world community would consider abject poverty, but when you acknowledge them with a smile and nod, or a small wave hello, their returning smiles shatter their laser beam stares into shards of sunshine.  In an instant, genuine warmth replaces their blatant curiosity and you feel very nearly like you do when you are “home”.

The city as a collective is daunting. Even on a sunny day, visibility is generally only about a mile. Pollution chokes the air with heavy fingers, making buildings loom hazily like forgotten giants along the horizon. They are there, but always seem just out of reach. Looking at the skyline, I am reminded of those post apocalyptic movies that always pan the ruins of a city, left vacant for decades; derelict and crumbling. It’s only up close that you discover the vibrant, humming life within.

On the streets, the first thing you notice might be the filth, but the second thing you see will be the color. Pedestrians in vivid colored, beautiful fabrics are everywhere you turn. Over there, a woman in a vibrant purple head scarf contrasting with startlingly beautiful, dark eyes. And smiles. Everywhere you look, there will be smiles.

On a wildly congested road, teaming with hundreds of rickshaws, cars, trucks, bicycles and people, you will see tall gleaming, modern office buildings, yet squatting in their shadow you will find wooden awnings huddled side by side sheltering busy workers. Under one is an a man who seems to be a hundred years old hunched over a sewing machine on the sidewalk, piecing together jewel colored fabrics into a salwar kameez for maybe the wife of a wealthy businessman.

On the other side of the road, rickety wooden stands laden with huge bunches of the sweetest bananas I have ever tasted and fruits and vegetables I can’t even identify.

Did I mention the smiles? They amaze me the most. Amidst the angst of our first world problems; “What do you mean it will take two weeks to get my new iPhone 6”, are a people who can smile with holes in their shoes, if they are lucky enough to have shoes. Who bother to smile and say good morning even if they haven’t eaten recently.

I’m not naive. I’ve been in some of the biggest cities in the world. The poverty here hurts to look at. It eats at a little place in my soul. Pick pockets abound, beggars are endless. Did you know that some beggars mutilate themselves to get more sympathy and bigger donations? I cringe and then I stop and wonder, how would I react if I had a family, or even just myself to feed and no way to do it? What lengths would I go to if this was all I had ever known and all around me were the wealthy elite. Make no mistake, here in Dhaka we are the wealthy elite.

There’s more. There has to be, because we’ve only been here for a week. These are just my first impressions and observations. Sometimes I will get frustrated and I will miss our family and friends; especially our grand kids (sorry kids, they’re cute). I will even miss Target. But I have chosen not to spend my time pining for what I don’t have. That would defeat the purpose of the sacrifices we made to be here. So I am going to keep exploring. Keep learning and I’m going to drink every drop of adventure and experience that I can from this amazing country.