Third World Hoops

This weekend I participated in a 3-on-3 basketball tournament run by Big Bangs and a 5-on-5 tournament run by the Aftershocks Basketball Club. I missed the beginning of the Aftershocks tournament, but was able to play from the quarterfinals onward. Many of the same players participated in both tournaments, as there is a very small basketball community here. There are few concrete courts that can be played on, and even those don't measure up to US blacktops. The Big Bangs organization, which is a collection of ex-patriot and young local players that spread basketball through charity, dominated both tournaments. We formed two teams out of the 17-20 players who regularly participate in Big Bangs events. These two teams advanced to the finals of the 5-5 tournament and our three 3-on-3 teams all made the semis.

It was a lot of fun to play at a relatively high level and most of the people who were on the court in the final game had a decent amount of experience. In the end my team won by 5. We were a bit out gunned but had the equalizing "biggest guy on the court," a 6'7'' Egyptian named Tareq, and held on for the W. I ended up with Co-MVP for that tournament before getting ousted in the Semifinals of the 3 on 3 tournament by Tareq's team. It's pretty hard to effectively double team if you don't have anyone over 6'2'' and there are only 3 defenders on the court.

Most of the players who came out were in high school or university, and are still learning the game. All the rules have been memorized, but the subtleties that come from years of playing are not yet mastered. This is especially true when it comes to shooting. Like many inner-city US courts, most of the rims around here a bit suspect, and so most people just try to get to the basket. Shooting is something I worked hard on in high school and college, and many of the people I play with have asked for tips. Although it is a relatively simple motion, shooting, like any skill, requires thousands of repetitions to become natural. When people ask how I practice, and how long I've been practicing, my answer often baffles them. 8 years?! I've only been playing for 3 years! Basketball is an American game in that it is a part of our culture. From a young age most people are exposed to the sport and teeming youth leagues and summer camps attest to the sport's popularity with children. Here, few people pick up a basketball until middle or high school at the earliest. There is a dearth of even mediocre coaches, and skills are picked up rather than learned. Jump shots often have top-spin. If you know about basketball, that fact will disturb you to your very core.

When I play with and against these newcomers, I try to impart as much wisdom as I can, preaching the basic fundamentals that can elude anyone who is self-taught. What's great is that I have been exposed to some kids with some real energy and love for the game. One thing that basketball has going for it is that even in Dhaka there is some space for a court, and it is a kind of status symbol as a distinctly American game. A few of the high schools and most of the major universities have some kind of program, and there seems to be some kind of national program. A ref who worked at the practice games in which the faculty got to play our boys' varsity as well as the tournament this weekend told me he is involved with something called the "First Division Team." What I could gather from his faltering English is that I may get a chance to work out with them in January when they start playing (for what, I have no idea). It would be great to get to see some of the top talent, I'm sure they are very athletic, and what kind of teaching they receive. I am eager to compare it to the way that basketball is taught in America.

Basketball has been, as it has my whole life, a great outlet for my stress and competitive impulses here, and I think it also helps me connect with some people I would not otherwise meet. I've come to believe that the way you play says a lot about the way you are, and I hope that I am leaving the Bangladeshi ballers with a good impression of myself and Americans in general.

Happy Thanksgiving from Dhaka

Admittedly a belated wish, but I hope everyone who reads this had a nice Thanksgiving. Luckily we got a day off from work (one of the perks of an American School!), which I spent being as American as I could.

I played flag football during the mid day in the inaugural AIS/D Turkey Day Classic. It was a beautiful, sunny day (as they all are this time of year) to be out on the field, and everyone seemed to have a good time. We beat some people from the US Embassy and some other ex-patriots 8-0 in a thrilling defensive struggle. I played quarterback to the tune of 4 completions and 2 interceptions which wasn't that great, but one was a touchdown and that's all it took. I also made one more interception on defense than I threw on offense, so I think it balanced out. About the only bad thing about the game was that one of the larger embassy guys accidentally flattened me with a head to head tackle on the second play of the game. Got my bell rung a bit but I was fine later except for a bump on the side of my head. From what I heard his eye swelled up pretty bad, once again proving I have an extremely hard head.

For dinner we went to my friends' house for dinner. Stephanie and Adam had about 20 people over, from school and elsewhere, and it was quite the feast. Everyone brought something (thankfully Sara picked up the slack for me and Jimmy) and we even got some left overs at the end! (I just had left over turkey for lunch... mmmm). It was a really warm and nice evening, and I ate my fill. After about an hour of dinner I had to excuse myself to go lie down on a sofa as I was so full it was no longer comfortable to be resting in a sitting position. I had not really eaten much that day and after the football I was starved for calories. I think when I ate so much my body just shut down as it attempted to cope with the massive influx of turkey. I fell asleep momentarily but recovered (thankfully) in time for dessert and drinks.

The only thing that could have made it better is the presence of my friends and family, but I was thinking about you all and hope you had a memorable (in a good way) Thanksgiving as well!

Reactions to Mumbai

As the Mumbai attacks terrorist attacks unfolded on the local CNN news, I was amazed by the lack of information that reporters were able to get from Indian officials. Unlike the West, I found out about the attacks on Wednesday evening, although it was only a "shooting" at that time. On Thursday the news crews had assembled from around the world to capture the horror and confusion of South Mumbai. Standing 100 yards from the Taj Mahal Hotel, one CNN reported remarked that in the States or UK, the whole block would have been marked off and reporters may have been unable to even see the building. Instead, she claimed that she almost "walked in the front door" of the hotel the previous evening. As a couple of unexpected explosions went off in the hotel behind her, prompting the gathered mass of people to hit the ground, she complained that Indian officials had not provided any accurate information as to what was going on, who was in the building still, and who was responsible.

This startling lack of ability to handle crisis on the part of the Indian government highlights the youth of the democracy. As India gains worldwide fame for the "economic miracle" that has thrust the country into the geopolitical forefront, the latest attack has illustrated just how far India has to come as a nation. While bullet holes perforated the walls and windows of Mumbai's poshest hang-outs, riots over the election in Delhi shut down the local airport. India is no stranger to rioting and civil violence, though this latest attack seems to be coordinated internationally.

India is a collection of states that have not fully congealed in the country's half century of independence. Most have heard of the violence in predominantly Muslim Kashmir (also a holy site for Hindus) and Asaam, but India has, at least in my generation, a far more peaceful image. Perhaps this is due to the natural contrast between India and Pakistan, or even India and China, in which India comes off as the more "peaceful" and less threatening nation. The ever present spirituality of India has been well (and rightfully) celebrated, and the country benefits from the looming legacy of Mahatma Gandhi. However, the country has not escaped the vast inequalities of the caste system, and its government has been cited for egregious and systematic civil rights violations by Human Rights Watch and the United Nations.

The United States has supported India as a trading partner and military ally, recently giving civil nuclear technology to India, at the risk of angering Pakistan and other neighboring states. The globalization of economic interests and systems has given India a fast track to relevancy, but not solved the hunger and poverty the plagues the slums of the cities and the forgotten villages of the sub-continent. India's challenge is almost incomprehensible. Thousands of years of culture and history must be productively harnessed under the world's largest democracy. The teeming multitudes inside India and the adversaries that surround her must all be managed through an dishearteningly inferior infrastructure.

India has a enormous task ahead of her, one that will not be solved by simply affixing blame to whoever perpetrated these attacks. Unfortunately, even the accurate completion of that task must be called into question with India's notoriously corrupt government.

If nothing else, this tragedy has sharpened my vision of India. Safe and sound in Bangladesh, I have been wondering about the long term effects of this attack. India recovered quickly from 2006 train bombings in Mumbai, but the reaction to this attack seems far different. The precision and apparent intent of this attack has frightened many, and the Indian stock market, already in trouble as the world's economy downshifts, has plummeted.

A thousand miles away, concerns over the superstar of South Asia focus more on the question of how India will respond. The local papers seem to hope that the attacks will not be laid at the feet of Islamic extremism and forgotten. In Bangladesh, there is sympathy and outrage, but also a sense that India has made itself into a bit of a bully. India has repeatedly ignored Bangladeshi interests (as when a giant dam was built on the Ganges that has severely affected the vital jute crops), as well as the interests of those who have not been able to latch on to the meteoric rise of the Indian economy.

What was really strange was how little the ex-patriot community seemed to be discussing the attack. Hopefully this is because so little has been released other than details of the actual events.

Election Update: New Date's Set

Last night at about 7PM the Election Committee announced that a new election date had been set, presumably in order to ensure that the Zia Kheleda led BNP will fully participate. The parliament elections will now take place on December 29, 11 days later than the original date. Upazila (Bangladeshi districts) elections will not take place until Jan 22. This also will push back the dates for filing nomination papers, and hopefully allow the parties to be more organized for the actual election. This is the ninth scheduling of the 9th parliamentary election since 2006.

This news has pleased Zia Khaleda, who has framed her request as necessary for a fair and participatory election, though she still is arguing for "emergency" to be lifted. Emergency is the heavy military presence throughout Dhaka that the emergency military government has imposed to help stop violent protests and hartals from forming. She claims that "a festive mood" is "required for the national elections... will not be created unless the emergency is withdrawn." This seems like a perfect recipe for turmoil: more time before elections to rabble rouse, less police to monitor and control the mob tendencies of Dhaka.

Meanwhile, the Awami League leader Sheikh Hasina is questioning why this election would be moved, seemingly at the will of one woman. Hasina expressed concern that there is a conspiracy on to foil the elections, pointing out "(Zia) wants withdrawal of emergency and at the same time delay in elections. It is only a strategy to prolong the emergency." Essentially, now that the election has been put off, the emergency will be around for longer. If Zia now pushes for the emergency to be lifted before the BNP will participate in the election, it might lead to a stalemate that would further foil the election.

I am not going to explain the whole thing... but there is a great headline on the front page of New Age newspaper today that reads "Prisoners can cast vote this time"... which makes sense because all the politicians were in jail this time last year.

This is a pretty expected result, as everyone is pretty keen to just get the election going and done. The election has been delayed for almost two years now, so although Zia's demands appear the be a blatant attempt to delay the Awami League's impending victory, the EC and AL are willing to go along to get along. It is an absurd situation though, it's hard to imagine John McCain feeling like he might not win and deciding he wont run, and the republican party wont participate in the government, unless the election is moved to November 15.

Bowling in Bangladesh

I went bowling over the weekend with Jimmy and a teacher who is new this year, Jason, as a place called Sports Zone. The three story business begins on the 8th floor with pools and weight training facilities; the floor above houses the bowling alley. At first Jason complained that the bowling alley was "not more Bangladeshi." Luckily, his fears were soon allayed by about the third frame. Instead of the usual 10 pins, only 7 descended from the mysterious space at the end of the lane.

This became a pattern, as sometimes 6, sometimes 8, sometimes 4 pins standing with 5 others already laying down, and sometimes the full complement were presented throughout the evening.

The lane itself was not particularly bad, although it felt a little narrow. That may have been due to the location, which provided excellent viewing opportunities for Sports Zone's other patrons. We bowled in the lane nearest to the video game area, and often bowled with Bangladeshis peering over the Plexiglas that rose about 6 inches from the gutter. This was a bit distracting, but also hilarious, as they popped their heads over like meer cats when we approached to bowl. What was really strange was that the management requested that we bowl there when we arrived and attempted to secure a more central lane. Either they didn't want us to bowl in a good lane, didn't know that lane 6 was bogus, or wanted us to be "on display" and closest to the non-bowling patrons, something that happens a decent amount here

Soon noticed that our hands were becoming covered in a black, greasy dirtiness from the disgusting balls. I looked down and realized I probably shouldn't have been holding the ball against my shirt. Yes, we wore Sports Zone's bowling shoes (which were actually more comfortable than what I've had in the past)... well Jimmy and I did, Jason brought his own pair.

We bowled a few games next to a guy smoking a 5 inch cigarette out of a 4 inch holder and there were some families bowling on the other side of him. When the families were done, they would walk down to play video games. This is a hobby that is apparently a grownups only affair at sports zone. Father and Mother would be rescuing New York from rocket-launcher wielding terrorists in Gun Blade while the kids watched... though the kids were given tokens for the lamest vibrating horse ride ever.

All in all it was a fun night, and for 100 tk a game (about $1.45 US) the price was right... I'll just stay out of lane 6 next time.

Bangladeshi Elections Heat Up

Khaleda Zia and Sheikh Hasina

It turns out the United States is not the only super-populous nation having a major election in 2008.

The Bangladeshi people are currently scheduled for a prime minister election on December 18th, one month from today, and things are really starting to heat up. To recap on recent history, the military declared emergency powers in the beginning of 2007 and has been in power ever since. In a reversal of expectations, the military government's "Emergency" government (as it has come to be known) has been far less corrupt and seems to have the people's best interest in mind. The military originally assumed power to root out the awful corruption that plagues nearly every fiber of Bangladeshi bureaucracy, imprisoning countless corrupt officials and calling for a truly clean election. The Bangladeshi National Party (BNP), led by Khaleda Zia, had been in power for five ineffectual years and had fixed the election.

In the last three months, many of the exiled or imprisoned officials have been readmitted into the political scene, as the military government was unable to produce an election as the major parties refused to participate without their corrupt members. So, after all the fuss, it will be the a four party coalition headed by the BNP (led by "leader for life" Khaleda Zia) against the Awami League, the country's first major political party, led by Sheikh Hasina.

The UN has been paying close attention to this election. Bangladesh's is a surprisingly relevant member of the UN, as it supplies a disproportionate amount of peacekeeping troops. The UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon was recently in the country to meet with election officials, and there are hundreds of monitors expected to be at the polls to assure fair elections. One such monitor is a personal friend who works for USA International Development (USAID). He says that he does not worry about safety, and is excited for the process. Reportedly, thousands of villagers will line up for the chance to cast their ballot. The monitors will be present to prevent the overt use of bribery and intimidation, which have been liberally applied in the past, especially in the large villages outside of Dhaka. Ki-moon seemed hopeful for a free and fair election, and commented that it was crucial that the election occur as scheduled.

This, however, seems like an unlikely proposition at this point. Feeling the pressure of an impending blowout, the BNP led coalition has requested a delay of the elections for at least one month. The coalition submitted a list of four demands (originally there were 7) that include: complete lifting of emergency (this is basically the military presence on the streets), abolition of the Election Commissions power to cancel candidates during the election, allowing Hajj (Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca) pilgrims to cast their ballots (though many are out of the country) and defering upazila (Bangladesh districts) elections until a month after general elections. However, from the people I have spoken with it appears to be little more than a chance to exercise power before being beaten in the election. Khaleda Zia recently stated that a failure to respond to their demands would result in the BNP not participating and thus there would not be a true election with only one side running. She continued to wash her hands of her own edict, saying that any failure of the election process must be put on the heads of the Awami League and the military government for not complying with the BNP's demands. Though at this point it seems very unlikely that the elections will occur on the scheduled date, there is little doubt that they will occur eventually. The Election Commission has examined the flights of those people who are on the Hajj, and have declared that pretty much everyone will be back by January 2, with most returning throughout December.

Right now, the AL is considering the proposal and has made concessions to most of the demands, but does not think the election should be delayed more than 10 days. This sort of hollow posturing has many people worried, because parliaments in the past have been completely ineffectual due to the losing party's refusal to attend. When 2/5s of parliament doesn't show up, not a lot happens.

Recently, the two most powerful women in Bangladesh discussed meeting formally for perhaps the first time. However, there was a predictable hitch as Hasina would not meet without an agenda while Zia would not meet with an agenda. As of yet, the two have not met to discuss how they will best further ruin the country. In the opinion of many, there are certainly differences between the two women, but little distinction when it comes to the effectiveness of their rule. Zia has never received university or even high school level education, and her tinted sunglasses are the emblem of her rock star image. Hasina is more the stateswoman, foreign educated and proper. Yet each party has undermined the spirit of democracy by naming its chief "leader for life," a move that has only strengthened the attitude of "us vs. them" that was born in the bloody origins of the two parties (see previous post).

It appears that for now the Awami League has a stranglehold on the election and is thus in a position to grant the BNP some wishes, so long as an election takes place. In the meantime, I will be updating on the goings on of this election every week, and trying not to repeat too much information!

In closing, here is the website of the Awami LeagueL http://www.albd.org/autoalbd/index.php. It is well organized and put together from what I can tell, the Hasina's martyred father can be seen in the top banner. The BNP's website (note that it ends with ".com" rather than ".org") is still under construction... probably would be nice to have that finished before the national elections...

On the Road to Chittagong

(This post describes the beginning of the second half of our October break, in which we travel from Dhaka to the Chittagong Hill Tracts)

We arrived late Monday night from the Sundarbans to a home tragically without power. I went over to the school to send some e-mails and check in on the world, then came back, crashed, and woke up in time for our 5:15 AM departure from Baridhara. We left at the break of dawn to avoid the tremendous traffic on the two lane (sometimes four) road connection Bangladesh's two largest cities.

The road is home to four different speeds of vehicles: rickshaw, autorickshaw, bus/truck, car but only two lanes. As a result, the passing practices are absolutely insane, and "too close for comforts" are frequent occurrence. We didn't really have any near misses, though seeing a bus passing a bus passing a baby taxi forcing our car into the shoulder (without slowing) got old, quickly. On our way back from the southeast of the country, it was raining and there were a couple rolled trucks. However we didn't see anything that bad on the way down, as the weather was dry and sunny. Still, these were by far the craziest roads I have ever seen, and, god willing, will ever see.

Not a few hours outside of Dhaka we stopped for a quick breakfast at a roadside restaurant called Times Square. Our driver had never heard of the Times Square in NYC, and there was a certain failure of language in our attempts to describe the enormity and spectacle of that place. There was really no way to communicate the intensity and scope of the square in relation to what our driver Kalam has seen in South Asia. After a quick (and super cheap) breakfast of eggs and parata, we hit the road again.

About an hour after breakfast, as I half dozed looking out the backseat window, I heard a thump! on the windshield and started in alarm. Quickly turning my head to see what we had whacked, through the back window I saw a black bird bouncing down the white line of the shoulder. No one spoke for a few seconds until our driver said, simply, "bird." We then all cracked up at his deadpan response, to which he claimed he couldn't do anything (he couldn't), the bird had flown right into us! He then offered that the bird was "flying" and "maybe injured," but I saw that thing bouncing, that was one dead bird. Having offered up a sacrifice to the gods of the road, we were able to drive some 30 hours over the course of the four days, never once having a problem of any kind.

The following posts are a chronicle of the trip, which included: hill climbing, goat killing, guru hugging, ship wrecking, pink sheets, bad food, a monkeyless monkey forest, villagers, cows, temples, shiva, Buddha, gold, rain, pineapple, turtle feeding and much much more...


Oops, no place to stick in the turtle feeding now (I tried to arrange these posts chronologically by writing them in reverse), so I'll just record it here.
We were exhausted. Bandarban-Rangamatti-Chittagong City all in one day, all in one car, all losing our minds. As night envelopes Chittagong, our driver suggests one last stop on our journey, a holy Muslim site. We wearily agree and brace for one last experience before some rest. As we turn off the main road down a narrow alley, our driver points out small snack shops on the side of the road... "these are for the.. ehhh..." "Birds? Beggars?" we guess, but he is unresponsive. As we park next to a small pond, we are instructed not to take pictures, and Sara puts on a scarf.
As we approach the pool we notice people crouched at the edge of the pool, holding slices of banana on the end of small sticks over the water. Just then I notice forms moving in the brackish water... Turtles! About 100 turtles floated around the muddied water, aparently as a symbol of a prophet who had once come to Chittagong bearing a turtle. The three foot turtles coasted towards the stone steps next to the pool and mouths slowly opened on the end of extending necks to welcome the snacks. Feeding the turtles is a part of praying for the people who visit the site, and one of the strangest sights I've ever seen.

Sick Altitude: There Are hills in this country after all

On our way to Chittagong we turned off about 30Km outside of the city to visit village that Kalam, our driver, knew to have some nice temples. We drove down to the end of a one-car-width dirt road, got out, and assessed our options. There were two paths, one a concrete slope, the other stairs. The stairs led, after about four flights, to a temple at the base of a steep hill (or mountain, here), while the slope went to a small shrine at the very peak. We chose the long hike up, (not knowing how long or steep the climb would be) and were accompanied by a pack of tweenagers.

It's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll, and, incidentally, also a long way if you want to get a few of India, Burma and Bangladesh all at once. Over 1000 stairs (plus plenty of unindented slope) shot straight up the mountain (no switchbacks necessary when stairs guide the way). Every once in a while we would come to a brief plateau, usually occupied by a couple small shops selling water and snacks.


We were joined on the path by villagers going to the top to pay homage, as well as farmers carrying enormous bundles of cucumbers up and down the treacherous, steepandnarrow stairs. Enormous veins covered the bulging calf muscles of these men carrying 60 pounds on their back and heads.

At time our path led us across rickety stone bridges (luckily not over more than a few feet of ravine), worn and rounded stone steps and dirt paths crowded with ancient roots. A couple times we crossed over a stream running down the mountain, and the local boys bathed and drank from it. The path was generally not wider than 3-4 feet, and there were of course no guardrails. For a while we were walking just to the right of the tops of trees, a dramatic dropoff inches from the stone steps.


We began our hike at about 10:45, and by the time we reached the top we were all drenched and the sun was starting to cook the hillside. Luckily we were able to refuel with some bottled water along the way. The view from the top was definitely worth the labor, it was the most expansive view I had scene since I looked out the window of my landing plane in July. A shrine to Shiva was located on the topmost point, with pictures of the God and some incense.

The view from the top... another shrine is in the foreground

The inside of the shrine

A stone inscription at the base of the shrine

These big pink flowers were all over the place on top of the mountain

Goats and Gurus (or, The Headless and The Holy)

At the bottom of the hill we worked our way through a couple of other temples in the village. One of them was more of a shrine around a holy pond, the other was a temple/orphanage/hostel run by gurus. We decided to check out the pond, and while we took in the scenery, our driver befriended a local businessman whose mother lives in the village. He informed us that there would be a goat sacrifice in about half an hour, and we decided that we should probably stick around, how many times in my life would that offer be extended? To "kill the time," we walked across the street to the vegetarian guru compound, and got a tour of the grounds. After pictures and some conversation with the head guru, we were invited to lunch. We accepted, but explained that we had a date with a couple goats, and had to get back for the sacrifice. The gurus seemed a little off put by our interest in the gruesome practice, but said they would have lunch ready when we returned.

The sacrifice was very formalized, and I was able to witness the blessing of the goats inside the shrine, the skillful sharpening of the giant blade painted to look like a rhino, the dirt being piled underneath the wooden trap that held the goats neck (to absorb the blood and give the blade something to hit besides concrete on the other side of the goat) the gathering of the villagers, and of course the beheading itself. I was standing about 12 feet away for the whole process.

The first goat bleeted loudly, recalling the Silence of the Lambs, and I focused my camera for it's execution. The severed head fell about a foot from the body, both writhed violently for almost a full minute. Without removing the first goat's head, they brought in the second one, which had been witness for the first sacrifice.


Again: screaming, the head locked in legs together huge blade up-down (gravity) phumph! sand the body tongue out red red flower next to slaughter brains slumping out from the neck, red and white. At the end of the second sacrifice, the assembled villagers let out a high-pitched "looloolooloo," which was perhaps the most unnerving part of the whole scene. Then the bodies were strung up in a tree to be carved up for the poor. We were finally told that the sacrifice had been from a man who had recently become well and wanted to give thanks.


We then tried to come back to "reality" and went to get some lunch, a strange immediateness all over the surface of our skin. The lunch was quite tasty, we had Dahl (lentils), rice and a shredded potatoe dish. We ate with our right hands and discussed topics from America to religion, to the head guru's impression that we had far more power than we really process in the American embassy. There is also a lot of confusion regarding our social network in America... "you've been to New York? Do you know my cousin Saleem?"

The gurus passed out pamphlets of their teaching, containing almost nursery rhyme style hymns about being a good person and establishing good Karma. They even had a small library that was the pride of the town. The temple sustained itself on donations and some sale of local honey and renting rooms in its hostel. As we left I had the sense that they hoped we could help, but we had little to give, only promising to bring the school to the attention of my school's charitable organizations. From here, it was onward to Chittagong City.

Chittagong City

Chittagong is Bangladesh's second biggest city, and is located at the South Eastern quadrant of the country. It became a large port city during British rule, and this fact played a major role in its development. Unlike Dhaka, which developed with little western influence, parts of Chittagong were planned by the British. The British section of the city is home to the usual trappings of British colonialism, a large hospital, governing offices, a large court house, while the rest of the city is the sort of sprawl that characterizes Dhaka. Another thing that makes Chittagong quite different is, as a coastal city, it has hills, slope, and has been built around the geographical features of the land. Also, Chittagong has a different interaction with foreigners because seamen are in and out of the port, whereas in Dhaka virtually all of the foreigners are NGO or diplomat/embassy employees.
Getting around Chittagong is a bit of a chore, because the government has invested less money in roads and the city is, as a whole, less modernized than Dhaka. There are fewer streetlights, the potholes are gaping and navigating the winding streets seems far less obvious than the relatively coherent layout of Dhaka (especially in my area of town). At 8PM, all the shops close because the government shuts down their power, and this fact, combined with the general lack of streetlamps, makes the city becomes very dark at night. There is more green and natural scenery, the ports also add some aesthetic value that Dhaka lacks, but I think I would prefer the relative modern convenience of Dhaka. Chittagong seems like Dhaka must have been 15 years ago.

While in Chittagong we spent some time at the local mall (picture 1-2), a shopping bazar, the British courthouse (still vigorously used, picture 3-6) and a local port (7) (before going to the shipbreaking yards).

The hotel we stayed in was called the St. Martin, but I can tell you it bears little resemblance to the Caribbean island. All three of us stayed in one room with three double beds. We had TV, A/C and good water pressure/plumbing systems. It was relatively clean, but smelled a little bit funny. It was hard to tell whether this was because of something funky in the room, or because the staff would constantly knock on our door hoping to spray some air freshener around the room. After one such intrusion that left the room suffocatingly citrusy, I banned them from spraying. However, we often returned to our room to find it suspiciously odoriferous.
Also, I should mention that our room was wall to wall pink. Walls, sheets, satin duvet, sink, lamp shades, no surface except the wooden tables escaped this rosy theme. It was truly hilarious, we wondered what the hotel staff thought we were all doing in one room... the platonic traveling of men and women is not a comfortable occurrence here.
We stayed here a total of three nights, our first two and then our last, spending the intervening day in Bandarban. We were delighted to find that the hotel was owned by a local celebrity, and one that we knew! There is a radio program that we caught while driving around old Dhaka called Musdi Unlimited (loosely translated to "fantastic awesome time!") and it was certainly musdi time when we heard the tune "O Doctor." It took us a while to find out who it was (by asking around with locals), and we eventually purchased the whole CD. Well, as it turns out, the man who sings that song is a local pop music legend, and he is also a proprieter of the illustrious St. Martin Hotel.

Ship Breaking Yards

From the main road out of Chittagong you can occasionally catch a glimpse of the top of massive boats, cruise ships and oil tankers loom out towards the coast. Their proximity is shocking, the massive steel sideways skyscrapers are not floating on water, but rest comfortably in the sand an shallows. This is the area outside of Chittagong proper is a stretch of coast that houses ship breaking yards. Dozens of men, their dark, sinewy muscles taut, rip the giant steel whales apart with their hands and a little technological assistance, blow torches and cutters. This area gained some notoriety a few years ago in a National Geographic expose that highlighted the dangers that the workers face every day. The massive steel cords that are used to pull the ships onto land can occasionally snap, maiming or killing anyone in the path of the vicious backlash. Further, Bangladesh handles many of the ships that no one else will buy. The risk of radioactivity is much higher in the ships broken here, and there is an inherent danger in dealing with large steel objects with little to no protective gear or measures.
The ship breaking companies buy these ships for close to 10M US dollars, and sell off the parts, somehow for a profit. The stretch of highway that follows the coast about 1/8th of a mile inland is lined with shops selling some of the more hilarious items that the ship breaking companies sell: spiral staircases from the inside of boats, enormous water tanks, outdated nautical equipment of all kinds can be found for a price on this road. The chunk of land between the road and yards is occupied by what appears to be "every day villages," complete with small stores and some rice fields. However, everyone seems acutely aware that there is a giant industry next door, and that it is their role to conceal it from the unassuming eye. However, the enormity of the ships and the proximity of the stores that sell the unwanted parts renders these buffers largely ineffective.
These shipbreaking yards hold a special significance to me, because my building, just like every other large concrete building in Dhaka, is structurally supported by rebar from ship steel. The steel is broken down and made into the tubes that reinforce my home, so it was "reassuring" to see the terrible condition of the steel before it was processed.

As a result of the expose, it is basically impossible to gain access to them without permission from the owner or someone who works there. We attempted to procure such permission, but our one hope was out of the country and could not be of assistance. However, we were there, and figured that the worst they could do was say no, so we might as well give it a try. Once again, our heroic driver came to the rescue, walking into the yard to gain access for all of us (they are extremely suspicious of obvious foreigners). After about 10 uncomfortable minutes of sitting in the car while some curious villagers stared in through the windows our driver returned from his negotiation, saying "it is ok, lets go!" We asked if we could bring our cameras and he said "OK, Ok"... of course once we entered, the manager harshly warned us against taking pictures. Almost immediately I thought to myself "ya, I'm taking some pictures here." All three of us were secretly snapping, though we were sort of caught about half way through our visit and warned that they would take our cameras. Well I put the cap on my lens after that, but Jimmy was able to sneak a few more pictures while Sara distracted the manager with her exposed ankles and feminine charms.
Seeing the steel giants on land was truly awe inspiring. 8-10 stories high and a couple football fields long, the gargantuan ships seemed so out of place and surreal, uncomfortably beached, exposing the usually unseen 15 foot propellers. One ship had been broken directly in half, men climbed all over it, ripping off small steel scales. The ground between the entrance of the plant and the ships themselves was completely covered, no sand to be seen, with 12 by 12 steel squares. On either side of the steel path were engine parts, random components and massive metal beams.
We escaped with our cameras and some fantastic shots, and Sara even made a new friend when the manager asked for her number and she for some unknown reason, gave her actual digits. She received three calls that evening and the next before she finally picked up and told him she was no longer in Chittagong.

The Bandarban: Buddhist Temple

We visited this temple was we were departing for Rangamatti. Normally not open to anyone until the afternoon, we were granted access (I assume because we are white/foreign). We reached the temple at about 7:30AM, so it was light but not yet too warm. The temple was beautiful, as you can see from the pictures, and offered an outstanding view of the valley below. Luckily, I was allowed to enter despite the sign outside that said no "half-pants" allowed.

A lion based flag pole, and some of the view from the temple.

Getting my Om on.

I wish that someone had been present to explain the significance of these little Bhuddas. There were 9 encircling the inner shrine, each corresponding to one of the planets.

The Bandarban: Villages

The Bandarban is a part of the Chittagong Hill Tracts close to the Bangladeshi borders with India and Burma. We drove up into the hills to the Guide Tours Resort, a wild ride up the hills. The word Bandarban is a combination of "bandar," meaning monkey, and "ban" meaning forest. Unfortunately, there are no bandars in this supposed monkey forest, suprising as the lush landscape is covered with fruiting trees.
We spent our day there with a tour guide named Onik, walking through the villages around the hills. Bandardan the town is a relatively nice place, and the region is full of people who look far more South East Asian than south Asian. We also were able to shop for a full 45 minutes in town without ever running into a beggar. What a relaxing experience! I bought some gifts from local craft makers and it was a much less stressful process than buying anything in Dhaka.

The villages that we toured seemed pretty prosperous. Most of the men were off in the hills harvesting fruit and doing other labor, while the women and children and some of the older residents were about town. The people had some experiences with westerners because there had been missionaries in the region, and one of the villages was a self proclaimed Christian community. All the people we talked to were extremely friendly and seemed to have a certain spark that seems lacking in the city. Even the villages we have seen right outside of Dhaka seem somewhat more wholesome than city life, but these villages had an almost tangible connection to the land and family that was very pleasant to observe. Here are some pictures!

This woman was carrying her child and a ton of metal dishes back up from washing in the river. Her leg strength was quite impressive as she hoisted her load up the narrow dirt path to her village.

Me in the village, my compatriots in the background

Beckley vs. Cow

Some scantily clad children play around new potato crops

Main street in the village... well I guess the only street

The little homies. I ended up taking about 8 pictures of these two because they would crack up at the LCD display of the photograph on my camera.

This is one of my favorite pictures I've taken here. I have been fascinated with the practice of taking pictures of the native people, as I feel a necessity to document my experience and a kind of sickness or unease with the objectification inherent in the act of taking the picture. Here, the child reverses this phenomenon, pantomiming me as I photograph his striking sister. The powder she wears on her face is meant to clear up any blemishes. An intensely beautiful woman, we tried to set her up with our reluctant guide, Onik.

Rangamatti Buddhist Temples

Rangamatti is a huge Buddhist destination. Every year around November a million Buddhists from the area (Burma, India, Bangladesh) come to the area for a festival. They were getting ready for this when we arrived, and we were able to gain access to this temple because we were foreigners. Usually, they would not let anyone in until 4pm, but they let us in around 2 as our driver was able to convince them we were Americans from the embassy. Here are some pics:

This large temple houses a school on the inside, and on top of the building is a large garden with smaller shrines. The following pictures are actually taken from on top of this building.

A shrine to the temple's guru

I felt awkward taking this picture, as we were in the inner sanctum of the temple, but he was nice enough to stand with me

A shrine on the inside of one of the buildings

An ornate temple in the inner courtyard

We tried to walk to the top of this little temple but it was locked up above the ramp (outside the main temple)

A smaller temple getting ready for the festival