Traveling to Dhaka

To get to the magical land of Bangladesh, I started out at Logan International in Boston. Everyone on the flight with me was British, and I was forced to think in a British accent. I watched Milk and Bolt on the flight.

After 6 hours, I got to London Heathrow. Bloody unremarkable airport, although the line for security checks was stunningly long and annoying. The lady up front kept yelling, "Mow-wove alowng, mow-wove alowng!"

Then I got to Bahrain and enjoyed a lovely meal: a McArabia burger, aka overpriced chicken shawarma. It cost US$8. The staff at that airport was like 56% Pinay. A cup of coffee cost US$4, and the lady (not Pinay) tried to sell me a bottle of water as well. I refused.

I got into line for the flight to Dhaka and at first people (everyone was a man) kept cutting in front of me because they wouldn't believe I was in line to go to Dhaka as well. Fortunately some dude in front of me told them what the deal was and I got to be just like everyone else, except possibly not as pushy. Since this was a man flight, there was a lot of nose-picking going on as well.

So! I finally got into Dhaka and it looked just like Manila, except their tricycles have four wheels and look like green mini-hamster cages on wheels, there were men-drawn rickshaws, and a whole lotta tetanus buses. I stayed for a little while in Omar's house in Dhaka. Here's the view from his balcony, with little Zelda (Dean Michelle's 9-year-old) as my model.

The rest of the day was spent in meetings where my job was to look pretty. As usual.