Don't forget to hydrate as you swim. Being in the water is not good enough.

I have wanted to start swimming regularly again for many months now, even before leaving for Bangladesh. My family here has gone out of their way to help me get to the pool and the other day I went for the first time. They are members at the Gulshan Club, which is a very nice club not too far from where we live. I had no idea what to expect from the pool, locker rooms, or even the other women (it’s ladies swim time in the afternoon). At a quick glance, as I removed my sandals and passed through to the locker room, I saw that the pool area is very nice and well maintained. I was surprised to find there were no floating lane dividers and the usual black lines painted on the bottom were absent. As I was walking around the locker room barefoot, I had the feeling that I was doing something terribly wrong. I am engrained to wear shower sandals in any public shower. As I pushed the idea of athlete’s foot out of my mind, the pool attendant arrived with a key for the locker and offered (for the third time) a rainbow tie-dyed rubber swim cap. I had been warned about the need for a swim cap and had brought my own which seemed confusing to the pool attendant who spoke limited English. I was instructed, by signs and the attendant, that I need to shower prior to swimming, no problem. I donned my modest, a bit too big for me, brown and tan flower pattern, conservative (by US standards) maternity swim suit, added a bright red cloth swim cap, showered and was off to the pool.

I have not swum laps in quite a long time so I took it very easy. I would swim to one side, rest and float for a bit, just enjoying the water, swim to the other side, tread water for a bit, rest and repeat. There were four other women in the pool, who were clearly new to swimming, and after a few laps I noticed that each of them is wearing a short sleeve t-shirt. Besides feeling quite exposed in my tank style suit I suddenly remembered that I also have a few tattoos that were exposed and imagined that I may have been causing quite a scandal. At that point another woman arrived who was clearly meeting her friends. After changing, she jumped into the pool wearing not only the same type of fitted t-shirt as her friends but also bright pink with white polka dots stretch pants. It turns out that all the other women were wearing tight cotton stretch pants. After that, I was busy contemplating not only my “modest” suit, how my pregnant belly seems to float, but also how in the world they managed to swim in all those clothes! No wonder it seemed like they were working too hard to stay floating and moving forward at the same time. I also decided that scandal or no, I am not wearing full cotton clothes while swimming. Not long after making the discovery of the pants, another woman arrived and was wearing a black one-piece Speedo, which furthered my resolve that my swimsuit was fine.

I finished my time in the pool and went to rinse off. The locker room felt like an icebox after the pool so I stayed under the warm water for a bit laughing to myself about the “Sham Poo” bottle on the wall. The power went out while I was enjoying the warmth, which means the A/C went out too. Thinking nothing of this at the time, I finished rinsing myself and my suit, dressed and went to go meet my mother-in-law and Sara who were picking me up. As we paid for my swim time, 70 taka ($0.84), I started to get quite warm. I forgot to bring a water bottle. We waited for our driver outside for just a few minutes in about 98 degree heat I was quite uncomfortable and wished I would have showered in cold water. We then made a stop at a market to drop off more fabric to the tailor for my shalwar-kameez. As I stood waiting for my mother-in-law while she bargained about the price, (this woman is the best at bargaining!) I thought I was going to pass out. I moved under a fan to try to get more air. A kind man at the shop must have been able to tell that I was not feeling too well and gave me a stool to sit on. As Sara was begging to sit on my lap or just be picked up I was really hoping that when I faint I do not land on her and that the floor was not an appealing place to land either. The fan must have helped enough that I was able to make it back to the car. We had half a bottle of warm water in the car, which I chugged.

After a lot of water and lunch, I felt better until after dinner. We tried the Pizza Hut here and it was very good. The chicken sausage and beef pepperoni tasted just like the pork they were replacing. It seemed like a “slice” of home. As tasty as the pizza was I believe that it was also very salty and sucked the little water I had replaced right out of my system again. Once again, I was ready to faint. I took a cold shower, which I felt could have been colder, drank ice water and turned on the A/C. I finally started to feel better after all that. I think yesterday was the closest to heat exhaustion I have ever been. I guess exercise, dehydration, and 98 degree temperatures will do that to a girl. 

My very kind cousin-in-law Isa took me out shopping the other day. Our first stop was to the fanciest clothing store I have seen here so far. I reminded me of the clothing department at a Macy’s. As he looked for some pants, I browsed though the women and children’s sections. The woman’s clothes were more like the western styles and seemed to run about 25% cheaper than in the states. The sweaters were about half the price as back home. All the little girls’ clothes that were hanging, with the exception of the swimsuits, were all long sleeve, which I found quite odd in this heat, even with winter coming. The back of the store was filled with folded, stacked high, short sleeve t-shirts for kids. I forgot to look at the prices. There were so many that there was no way I could choose one on a whim. I imagine that this store must deal with a manufacturer and get a deal on shirts before they are shipped for export. I have seen many of these shirts back home. The staff there (like many other places) were far too attentive for my browsing tastes and I felt like they were waiting for me to start shoving clothes under my shirt and then they would get me. As much as it was interesting to look around, I felt a sense of relief when Isa said he was ready to go, I was ready to get away from the overly watchful eyes of the three store clerks.

Our second and third stop was to banks. He needed to use the ATM so I waited in the car. As I sat there at the first bank the security guard suddenly because very curious about the windshield on the car parked in front of us. As he slowly meandered to the car and back to his post he had no shame in staring at me quite intently. Isa then returned to the car to report that the ATM was being filled so we were off to a different branch. I was happy to wait in the car again as he ran into the next bank. As I waited, a family of goats came sauntering down the road looking for stuff to munch on. Then expertly crossed the busy street and moved on. The Eid holiday is coming so there are in influx of animals in the city that, like turkeys before Thanksgiving, are reaching their expiration date. I wondered to Isa about why these goats were not claimed by someone and tied up. He explained that there is often not a good place to tie them and that the owners were probably nearby keeping an eye on them. I can just imagine goats or other livestock wandering through New York City and the chaos that it would cause.

Our next stop was to a movie store. They had quite the collection any movie or show I could think of they had. We picked out a few, including three for Sara, at 80 taka ($0.96) it was hard to go wrong. One we picked for Sara is dubbed in Hindi. I am eager to go back, exchange it, and pick out one or two for myself. I also found a little gem, the picture should be below, which started me searching for others like it but without any luck.

Our final stop was to an ice cream parlor. It reminded me a lot of Cold Stone Creamery but with better service. A (very) young man who could be described as having “boyish charm” and a nice smile was all too eager to show us to a table with very comfortable chairs and offered a six-page menu of ice cream choices. As we enjoyed the A/C and searched though the “make your own” or “already designed” options we discussed life, liberty and the differing taste buds of east versus west. (I would not choose hazelnut ice cream but love mint, which is not a popular choice here.) The young eager man took our order and within a few minutes, we were equipped with delicious treats. As we ate under the watchful eye of our server and another curious employee, we discussed the many ways Bangladesh is very different from Minnesota and discovered that I know absolutely nothing about the professional football (soccer) world. Sara was going to be home from school soon, depending on the traffic so we finished and headed for home. Sara was more than pleased with her surprise movies and even told me that she would like to keep the Hindi one so when she learns Hindi she can watch it. I figure if it was Bengali I would have kept it because it may help her learn but I figure, she should stick to learning one language at a time, so the Hindi one goes back. 

Bangladeshi (or perhaps Romulan) Mosquitoes

The mosquitoes here are very different from at home. I have not managed to kill any mosquitoes because I believe that they are equipped with cloaking devices. I am not “covered” in bites but I have two to three times more than everyone else here, I must be sweet. Each time I try to track the irritating little beasts, even against white walls and floors they suddenly disappear. I have not seen one up close and I have never seen them land. They are a lot smaller and I have not felt a single bite until it starts to itch. They are also very quiet. I do not miss the incessant buzzing the larger MN counterparts use to annoy us but if it meant the little buggers here were not so stealthy I could put up with a few tell-tale traits that I am used to. 

Pictures

Sara on her first flight - MSP to Houston

Starting the second plane ride.

Waiting on the tarmac.

The view from my bedroom window.

The view from the dining room, some of the people who work on the building live in the building.

Gulshan Market

Sara thought it was too stinky. The guy in the back seemed to really want to be in the picture, after he asked for money.

Front of the restaurant that is behind our house. 

View from our balcony.

Begum (our maid) and Sara.

View from the roof. We have not seen anyone working on the construction site on the right of the pic.

Everywhere you look new buildings are going up.

The restaurant again. 

A garment factory.

It is fascinating to watch this building being built. It seems like there are only about a dozen guys working at any given time. They are doing it all by hand. 

Looking down on our driveway and garage. 

Sara's school

School

We had many choices of schools for Sara. There is an American School, the school Abu went to, and some others that all looked to be good choices. I started to research all the schools well before we left. We decided on Beaconhouse for a few reasons. The main reason I wanted Sara to attend is that it is a Montessori school. I have always appreciated the teaching methods at Montessori schools and was glad to find one so close to home.  The second main reason that made Beaconhouse our first choice is that my mother-in-law is a teacher at the school. She has seven and eight year olds so they are not in the same classroom but it is really nice to know she is close by.

I pulled this bit from their website.  

The Beaconhouse group has over 214,000 fulltime students in nine countries and is possibly the largest school network of its kind in the world. Established in November 1975 as the Les Anges Montessori Academy with 19 toddlers, Beaconhouse has since grown into an international network of private schools, imparting distinctive and meaningful learning to students all the way from birth – through its partnership in Pakistan with Gymboree Play & Music – to post-graduation, through the Beaconhouse National University in Lahore.

Of these students, over 84,000 study at the group’s flagship network, the Beaconhouse School System, while the remaining are largely enrolled at The Educators, a parallel school network operated by the group with over 120,000 students. Other students are in Beaconhouse schools overseas.

The Beaconhouse of today is thus much more than just a stand-alone school. Through distinct and independent divisions in the UK, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines, Oman, UAE, Pakistan and Bangladesh, it caters to the education and training needs of a large and diverse group of individuals of varying ages, socio-economic backgrounds, and nationalities, with its activities also extending beyond education in some countries.

Beaconhouse has always laid tremendous emphasis on the development of human capital. From its initial association in the 1980s with The Moray House Institute of Education in Scotland to its more recent teaching training links with the University of Bradford and MARJON, Beaconhouse has institutionalised in-service teacher training like no other school.

So, with rigorous standards that demand up-to-date teaching skills and a range of challenging programmes, Beaconhouse School System brings success within the reach of every student.

http://www.beaconhouse.edu.pk/cms_main.php?id=3

Sara likes the school and says that she has friends there. I met her teacher and she seems very nice. Her school day is from 8:15am to 1:15pm Sunday – Thursday. They call her class “nursery” which at first I thought was preschool but I am starting to wonder if it is more on track with the US kindergarten class.  The teacher said that each child works at their own level so I am not really worried that she’ll not keep up or be overwhelmed. She brought home her first homework assignment; she was so excited to get her homework done!  It is strange to have her away from me for so long but she is learning and having fun. 

First Impressions

I saw on the news the other day that a shantytown in a part of the city that I had just drove through earlier that day was on fire. They had live footage and this was not a small fire. I have not heard reports since and I wonder about all the people who live there. I wonder about many of the people I see. Very young boys run a lot of the shops in the markets and people set up on the street with cigarettes and small snacks for sale or really anything that will sell. There was a line of people working on sewing machines along one of the roads. I saw a man with no legs pushing himself on a board with very small wheels and another without hands and legs laying on the side walk with no apparent way to get around holding a bowl on his stomach, lifting it with his wrists as people passed asking for money. In traffic jams people will walk from car to car tapping on the windows or pressing their faces to the glass begging. I wonder about all these people. Has this been their whole life or were they displaced because of flooding in the south? Do they make enough money to live? Did their home or their friend’s home just burn up in the fire?

Then there is the other group in the city that I wonder about, the men in suits or the designer clothes and the women with drivers and beautiful shalwar kameez (long shirt, matching pants outfit). Are their lives and families like ours? I find myself thinking about the luck of being born into a certain class and how fortunate some are and others are not.

Like the differences in people, the buildings reflect the same extreme differences. Brand new gleaming buildings are mixed in with the old. In every direction you look there is a building under construction. Huge dented buses share the roadways with tiny beat-up rickshaws and comfortable sedans with expert drivers who weave through traffic, narrowly missing everything else. Traffic lights are replaced with men standing in the intersections, in the hope that people will follow the traffic rules. People cross the streets regardless if there is a car coming or not. The same applies to merging. Our driver and my father-in-law are expert drivers and I am amazed each time we go out by their ability to effortlessly maneuver what still seems like chaos to me.  

The trees are amazing. Huge palm trees and banana trees with the most massive leaves I have ever seen. I kind of want to try to make a fort with them. The bananas here are amazing; bananas in Minnesota hardly deserve the name. The grapefruits are huge and delicious. The meals here are nearly feasts; I have to be careful not to stuff myself. The food is so rich and delicious my poor stomach can hardly handle it. I’ve switched to toast, banana, and sometimes a plain old scrambled egg in an attempt to ward off the pregnancy heart burn. As I mentioned, the bananas are fantastic and the bread is homemade and more delicious and moist, even as toast, than any other I have tried back home.  

There are scheduled power outages each day and I am learning to anticipate them (as I was writing anticipate the battery died on the laptop and the power returned 10 seconds later after being out the previous hour). When the power is out in the US (like what happened at the Houston airport and I could not buy something from the shop while we waited for the plane) we immediately call the energy company, we need to know when it is coming back and we all get bored so quickly. Here, two or three times a day the power is out for about an hour and that is just fine. We have a generator in the house so the lights and fans still work, (thank goodness for the fans!) but everything else is out. We hardly even notice. We were in a market the other day when the power went out and the shopkeepers pulled out lights and went on with business.

The sounds here are overwhelming. It is as if the city has its own soundtrack. Honking is constant, birds, dogs, people, all of it mixes into the harmony of the city. The honking makes perfect sense while moving down the road but from my window it sure is a lot! I am starting to tune it out. A man recites the call to prayers (the Azaan) at each mosque and is broadcast for that area adding to the cities soundtrack. Although it sounds quite different, the idea of it reminds me of the bells from the churches near my home in Stillwater MN.

Abu is now going to the office with his dad each day and Sara and her Dadi (paternal grandmother) go to school. Which leaves me here with Begum, our very nice maid who is very eager to talk to and help me. I have always enjoyed time to myself and I am filling the time with my Teach Yourself Bengali book, reading, and writing. I’ll need to work in some yoga or something too. I have decided that I need to schedule my day so I don’t end up wasting the day. I’ll test how it goes this week. I’m sure I will look back at this time and miss it after our new baby arrives.

I am really trying not to live in fear of the unknown and to get out and try new things and sometimes it goes better than other times. Just crossing a street seems like playing a high level of frogger and I was never too good at games like those. Plus, I have a natural tendency to get lost. I am sure that I will get more comfortable venturing out the longer I am here and as I take more trips out with my family.

For those of you who stuck through my two page, single spaced essay, thank you for reading. Stay tuned for the next blog post, which, among other things, will cover Sara’s new school and my experiences with language. 

A message from my mom.

As we were preparing to leave a lot of people asked how my mom felt about Sara and I leaving. The day before we left my mom sent me the following email and said I could share it on my blog if I wished. I do wish, and here it is:

Going with the Flow

Departure day is upon us.  At church today, I was reflecting upon the long distance relationships in my life.  My life-long friends, Deb and Carol, each live out of state and have for many, many years.  The distance between us has never been a barrier to the affection between us.  Every connection is instantaneous and brings us right back into one another’s world like as though we never left it. 

My guy, Mark, now lives in Afghanistan.  When this plan was first unveiled, I wondered how in the world I’d cope with such distance in my love life.  And yet, here we are connecting through Skype, texts and email.  His ability to take time off every 3 months allows for the adventure of travel once in a while as well as heightened anticipation of every moment together. 

If it were up to me, would I choose to have my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren live on the other side of the world?  I thought it was up to me years ago when I warned Lisa that if one day she would announce that she was going to marry, have children and decide to move across the planet, that I’d strap myself to a fast moving train and drive between her and this decision.  It sounded humorous at the time… at least for a moment. 

Time has shaped me to move and grow not so much like a tree with roots that hold it firm and in place, but rather like a river bed with the flow of water moving over it.  There are twists and turns which have formed over time and are now part of the landscape; the journey that carries me along.  The flow of water is constant and for this I am grateful.  There is energy in movement and change that I have found to be life giving.  

As a mother, I’ve learned along the way that in the letting go of our children, in order that they become autonomous adults, the separations are mental, emotional, physical and spiritual.  We want them to be happy, to live in love, to be healthy, and to continually grow as children of God.  It is this last piece that makes the others easier.

I have faith that they are in God’s care, as is always in my prayers, and that this experience will be rich with opportunities to learn and find their way in the world.  There will be challenges, no doubt.  My hope is that through it all they will be able to look back and know that taking this bend in the river was one of the best decisions they will be happy to have made.

As for me, when it comes to change, I eventually lift my fears by looking forward to what the new will bring that is promising and exciting.  I wonder what may emerge through the unknown.  As an example, I am focusing now on traveling to them in March to immerse myself in their new location and to meet the new life that will be born into our family!   

My long distance relationships continually challenge and teach me to look at life and love more broadly than that which I’ve simply known.  The known is comfortable and relatively safe, which is why we all gravitate toward that which we know and why we often shy away from big change.  And yet, on the other side of change is a whole new way of life that we cannot begin to guess its brilliance and abundance without stepping into it… or in my case, of being swept along with the moving water and looking forward to the scenic route.

Aren't you gone yet?

Yes, after months of talk and planning we took the 22 hour journey to Dhaka Bangladesh.

The flights were uneventful other than sitting on the tarmac for an hour in Houston because the power was out in the airport and some creepy guy who decided to hug Sara as we were walking down the isle of the plane from Doha to Dhaka. I quickly grabbed her and told him to let go of my daughter. I have no idea of his intention and I don't care. I told Sara that if someone she doesn't know should ever grab her again or hug her she should yell and try to run to me. She said she understood and then added that if she cannot find me she will stop and draw a map to get to me or her dad. :-)

Because of bathroom stops we were some of the last people to reach customs. The lines were to the back of the room. As we approached a few men who work there told us to go to the only short line that was for VISA on arrival, which was not us. Abu explained that to him but I guess it didn't matter. The whole place was chaos and reminded me of the Bangladeshi embassy on a larger scale. We made it though customs in record time. Another man was very eager to help with the bags and tried to get us carts and load them. I think he was out for a tip. Abu thanked him and and refused his help. After getting all our bags (none lost, nothing broke) we headed toward the exit to find Abu's parents. A police man stopped us and after some rapid Bengali, Abu was using his phone to call his parents just to make sure we didn't have to wait too long. At this point I said to Abu, "you're welcome" he asked for what and I said that if it was not for Sara and I he would have still been in line and there would be no offer to help with luggage and use of a police man's cell phone. He agreed. After a short wait outside, in such extreme humidity that I felt I should have been chewing the air, my in-laws arrived and we were on our way home.

My in-laws have set us up in our own room with our own bathroom and AC. They just remodeled the bathroom. Our room and the bathroom are very big and comfortable. They also just hired another full time maid so when we move into our own apartment we'll have someone to help who is already trained in. From the western point of view having a lifv in maid is for the super-duper rich and an unknown entity for us middle class Americans. Here it works differently and that has been an interesting experience for me. I speak essentially no Bengali (I am working on that) and the maid speaks no English. We have tried to communicate with each other without a lot of luck. Gesturing sometimes works. Luckily, there is usually a family member around for me to ask for help. It is especially strange to me to have someone in the house, who does so much for us and I have no way to show my gratitude besides smiling, saying thank you (in either English or my bad attempts at Bengali), or though someone else. She seems to be a very kind woman and I would love to talk to her to know more about her life.

Sara seems very happy here, she likes have more people around and we discovered her second cousins live downstairs and they are just about her age. Everyday, all day she keeps begging to go to their house or for them to come to ours. Sara also gets to start school tomorrow and she is ecstatic about that. 

There are a few things here that a so very different than America, some easier to adjust to than others, but my main impression is that the Bangladeshi people are very welcoming to foreigners, my in-laws have been very open and kind, and that no matter where you may go in the world people are people, we have the same needs, wants and desires so the differences end up to be little things that we may be shocked by at first but with a change or routine or point of view they are easier to get used to.