A Day to Relax. Finally.

I hung out with KB all day today and it was wonderful. This was the first day I spent not doing touristy things or traveling, but just... hanging out. I spent the day at her uncle's place, mostly updating my blog, doing a little India research, and relaxing. Tonight we went out with KB's friends in Delhi at a speakeasy. This place was such a scene. It's just like a speakeasy you'd find in San Francisco, modeled after the Prohibition-era speakeasys of the U.S. To get in, you had to locate the secret, unmarked door and enter a code in on the keypad. The decor on the walls was like a fake library, there were portraits of old-timey U.S. celebrities, and everyone was dressed up for going out. I'm beginning to see that India is an even more diverse place than I already thought.

My First Auto Ride

Driving in India is insane. But believe it or not, it's actually less insane than in Bangladesh, so it's actually been comparatively nicer here. Still, it's ridiculous. Today I took my first trip in an auto, which here isn't synonymous with car, but instead refers to these three-wheeled open-air taxis (in Bangladesh they called the baby taxis or CNGs because they run on Compressed Natural Gas). There are no seatbelts and with the crazy driving, you could fall out at any moment, so I was holding on for dear life, with my huge backpack between my legs.

I went to Jummah (Friday prayers) at my mosque in Delhi. At first, people were a little suspicious (which is to be expected, my sect is pretty highly persecuted in this part of the world, so safety is definitely a concern for them), but as soon as I showed them a picture I have of me with the leader of our sect, I was very warmly received by the people there. They showed me around and invited me to stay in the guest house there.

After Jummah, I had an awful, awful time trying to get to my hotel. First, someone from the mosque helped me get onto a bus. We literally had to walk through the streets, with the cars driving around us, and I had to hop onto a moving vehicle. Then I got to the train station, where I had to navigate an incredibly confusing train map that gave me no hint as to what stop I needed to get off at to get to my hotel. I finally figured it out, got to my destination station, and then had to take a cab. The first four cab drivers tried all quoted ridiculous fares, I finally settled on one driver who had the least inflated fare. Unfortunately, he didn't know where my hotel was (none of them really did, as far as I could tell), so he dropped me off somewhere near where I needed to be and then it took me another 20 minutes of searching to find the hotel.

My new hotel is in Gurgaon, where a lot of the multinational corporations have their presence in India, Google included. The whole reason I'm here is because my friend KB lives around here and I wanted to meet up with her and I still feel so badly that she came all that way without getting to see me because of the train delay. So tonight we finally go to meet up. She picked me up and took me to her uncle's house, where she is living. Her aunt and uncle are awesome. They're young, really friendly and super welcoming. They took us out tonight to a trendy spot in New Delhi. This is definitely a side of Delhi I haven't seen before. There's... wealth here. I had the second most expensive Coca-cola of my life at ~$4 (the first was in Spain and it was 6 euros, about $8). It was so nice to be with friends for a night.

My First Hostel Friend!

On my way out this morning, I met BM who was checking in. I asked her if she had any plans for the day and then invited her to come join me in exploring New Delhi. Thankfully she said yes because today turned out to be so much better with company. She's a couple years older than me and from England. She's been traveling for a little while through Nepal and India so she's slightly more seasoned than I am at this (though... who isn't, amirite?).

Jama Masjid, New Delhi

We walked a few kilometers to to Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India (it can hold up to 25,000 people!), which was built in the mid-1600s. It was a beautiful mosque and I said my afternoon prayers while we were there. Being white and obviously a foreigner, BM had to pay a Rs. 200 entry fee but I didn't say anything (so they wouldn't hear my accent) and just walked inside without being bothered. I'm pretty sure everyone there thought I was her guide, which is fine by me.

Red Fort, New Delhi

After that we walked down the road to the Red Fort, which was also enormous. This time, I wasn't able to get away with pretending I was a local and had to pay for a foreigner ticket. In fact, I was even plucked out of line and told to go to the foreigner ticket line. How did they know??? The Red Fort was originally constructed as a palace and it showed: the place kept going on and on, it was enormous.

Chicken Maharaja Mac Meal

After the Red Fort, we started making our way back to the hostel. We both hadn't eaten yet that day and earlier we had been talking about McDonald's and out of nowhere, these iconic golden arches appeared! Naturally, we HAD to eat there and of course, I had the Maharaja Mac. It's was actually pretty good - it's like a big mac in structure, but made with chicken and Indian spices. Also, the fries taste the same. Also, the ketchup taste the same! I've finally found good ketchup on this continent, and of course it's at a McDonald's.

View from Club India Rooftop Restaurant

Later that night we went out to dinner at a place called Club India, which... let's be honest, when you find a place called Club India, you have to eat there. It also turned out to be surprisingly nice. We ate on the roof and the food was surprisingly good. I had chicken tikka masala, but BM had a Japanese dish, which I was skeptical about at first but when I tasted it, it really did taste like Japanese food! Well done, chefs.

Today was definitely the most enjoyable day I've had in India yet.

A New Start in New Delhi!

My bed/seat on the train

I've arrived in New Delhi! The train ride was a better than I expected. There are different classes of tickets you can pay for and it's totally worth the incremental cost to have a nicer train car. I was in the AC-2 class, which means there are two levels of seats/beds in the car, upper and lower. I met an awesome dude in the train car who spoke good English and showed me the ropes of the train car. I definitely would have starved and been totally lost without him. He also gave me a piece of candy to celebrate my birthday. My only birthday present, as it turns out, being halfway across the world. I also met an older couple who shared their homecooked food with us so we didn't have to eat the abysmal train food.


I didn't get to see that much of India on the train, which is too bad. It was kind of one of those "what you see out the window for the first five minutes is what you'll see for the next 20 hours" kind of deals. Random lifestock. Poverty. Rundown buildings. Farms. The usual.

Main Bazar Road, the street leading to my hostel

Unfortunately, my train was three hours late. Which I didn't care about much, but my friend KB was coming to see me and she drove 1.5 hours to get there, waited 1.5 hours, and then had to drive 1.5 hours back home without seeing me and I felt awful. I couldn't even call/email her because I don't have a phone and there was no internet on the train (not that I was expecting there to be).

When I arrived in New Delhi, my hostel was less than a mile away so I walked instead of taking a cab. The place I'm staying at is called the Smyle Inn, which already sends warning bells off in my brain, but it's turned out to be surprisingly nice. Definitely the nicest place I've stayed at so far, and by far the cheapest. It came recommended on TripAdvisor. I've only been here for an hour and I already like Delhi more than Kolkata.

27 on the 27th and I've Reached a New Low Point In Life

So there I was, squatting over a hole in the ground, my stomach killing me, sweat pouring down my face (and every other part of my body), my backpack perched precariously on the one makeshift hook I could find in the bathroom stall (because there was absolutely no way I was going to set my bag down on THIS floor), watching the line of ants crawling on the wall inches from my face, trying desperately not to touch anything (made all the more difficult by the wet, slippery, uneven, unfinished floor) when I realized "I've reached a new low point in life."

Howra Train Station, Kolkata

I'm sick. It's cripplingly hot and humid. My body is aching from carrying a bag that's definitely too heavy. No one can understand me either because they don't speak English at all or because my American accent makes no sense to them. To the numerous people who told me that everyone would speak English here, you are either dirty liars or you've never been to Kolkata. The looks of confusion and disbelief when I tell people I don't speak Hindi have become commonplace. The universal head nod greeting apparently isn't so universal after all because any time I try to say hi to someone by smiling and nodding my head, I'm greeted with looks of suspicion and contempt. All but one cab driver has tried to cheat me. And I'm completely alone halfway across the world from home.

Did I mentioned today is my 27th birthday? Happy birthday to me.

This smile is fake

Leaving On a Slow Train

Howrah Bridge

I'm getting out of Kolkata. I've had more than enough of this city so I'm taking a 22-hour train to New Delhi. My dad suggested taking the train rather than flying so that I could see more of India. I treated myself to Arsalan again today; I had to go back because apparently they have the best biriana in Kolkata and I didn't get it last time. It was definitely really good.

I arrived at the train station 2.5 hours early because I couldn't wait to leave. After I got to the station, I went back outside and walked across Howrah Bridge, which has been recommended to me by my friend JM. I was wondering why she sent me to a bridge because it looked cool but not really tourist-worthy, but I realized she was actually sending me there to see the view FROM the bridge, not OF the bridge. There's my Golden Gate Bridge bias in action.

View from Howrah Bridge

The train station feels like a dirtier version of Grand Central Station in Manhattan. It's huge. There are way too many people. Everything is incredibly confusing. And it's hot. Really, really hot.

We Opposed Outsourcing of Jobs

I switched hotels today so that I could be in a more touristy area. My new hotel is overpriced and disgusting. They sent five different people to come look at my tv because it was broken. They finally moved me to a new room at 11pm. With ants. And a torn up carpet. At least the TV worked. Well, for some of the night.

I spent most of the day in my room because I'm not feeling well. I did go out to eat at a place called Arsalan and had some really good lamb korma. Korma is my favorite style of curry; it's really creamy, flavorful, and not spicy at all. I also discovered the Cheese Naan, which is everything it promises to be and it's life changing.

I forced myself to go out tonight because the thought of spending the entire day inside was more painful than actually going out while sick. This is definitely a touristy area. I only planned to go our for a few minutes but I ventured out longer than I originally anticipated. There were tons of street vendors selling all sorts of knockoff goods, but the most interesting thing I saw was this billboard:

If only they knew how ironic this is

I was making a zig-zag pattern through the streets away from the hotel and in my delirious state I thought ot myself "this is fine, when I'm ready to go back, I'll just turn around and keep turning right until I get back to the hotel." Which is definitely not how the world works because four rights later, I was back at the exact same spot where I started and not one step closer to home. I eventually found another hostel where the security guard put a man on the phone who spoke English and directed me back to my hotel.

I Drank The Water... Whoops!

Outside of Kaligad Temple

What. A. Day. First off, Kalighat, a Hindu temple that I'm pretty sure is a big deal in the Hindu religion. I say this because it's in all the guidebooks and was recommended to me by several people. Having done very minimal research and not having someone to show me the ropes, the significance of my experience was definitely lost on me. Shoes aren't allowed inside and I was warned that if I left my footwear out it would get stolen, so I tucked my flip flops under my shirt. Smooth move.

Mother Teresa's home

I saw a line of people waiting for something, wasn't sure what, but I figured hey, I'm here, I'll wait in line for that thing too. Eventually I made my way inside of a temple where there was some form of Hindu ceremony taking place. I'm sure my Hindu friends are cringing at my ignorance right now. I made my way to the front of the line and a saw people in front of me with money so I got out a Rs. 10 bill and handed it to the man standing in front of a huge statue of the goddess Kali. He started speaking to me in Hindi, like most people here have. When he found out I only speak English and that I had no idea what I was doing, he explained to me that this is the goddess Kali. Then he rubbed an orange paste on my forehead and strung a string of red flowers on my shoulder. He then put some red flower petals in my hand and poured some water into my hands and told me to drink. In the moment, I probably would have stood on my head and quacked like a duck if he told me to, so I drank the water and immediately regretted it. I just drank the water! Everyone, EVERYONE told me not to drink the water and here I was drinking the water. Oh well. He instructed me to give a dude standing next to him Rs. 100 (who was I to argue at this point so I did). I was then directed to donate even more money in a donation box on my way out. I had to force my way through a crowd of people to get out of the temple. Here I was, walking around barefoot inside of a Hindu temple with an orange paste on my forehead, a string of flowers on my shoulder, and flip flops not-so-subtly hidden under my shirt. Welcome to India.

I got yelled at for trying to take a picture inside the temple, which apparently is a no-no I didn't understand until a woman started screaming at me. Outside of the temple no one was willing to take my photo, not because it's taboo, they just didn't want to help a brotha out. So I did was any self-respecting teenage girl would do and got my selfie on.

Victoria Memorial

After Kaligad, I walked around the shops and stumbled upon Mother Teresa's home where she did her work for the poor. Then I took a cab to Victoria Memorial, a huge building that kind of looks like the Capitol in D.C. and has a huge outdoor garden. No one warned me about this, but this is apparently where you go when you want to canoodle with your sweetie in a public-but-let's-pretend-it's-private place. Couples everywhere. So much canoodling. The inside of the building is a huge museum dedicated to Indian history. Did you know that... turns out I remember absolutely zero facts I may have learned inside of the museum. It was hot and I had to pee the whole time.  I finally found a bathroom outside. This was my first experience paying to use a toilet in India. Rs. 2 (or roughly $0.03).

As I left Victoria Memorial, it started pouring rain. Not your pansy San Francisco "fog so thick it feels like rain" rain but "yea, you'll FEEL this rain" rain. I was woefully unprepared, no umbrella, no jacket, and I loved it. I love walking in the rain. It's one of my favorite activities. Freshman year in college I went for a really long walk in the rain with my friend KJ and it's one of the most memorable experiences I have from Stanford.

I walked for a really long time while it was pouring, at least a few miles. I eventually happened upon this village. Or slum? It's really hard for me to tell. But I felt like I was finally for the first time seeing real poverty up close. I had spent all of Bangladesh inside of a car, or a hotel, or a destination, but never got to walk anywhere (don't get me wring, BD was great, but I missed out on that side of BD). This was my first time really being among the people.

Random village

This was definitely one of the most unique experiences of my trip so far. There were cows and other livestock just walking around the streets. Men were bathing in communal public showers. There were a ton of street vendors. Lots of people. Lots. It was really dirty. There was trash everywhere. There didn't seem to be a lot of planning when these streets were built.

I also finally figured out my shaving problem: Instead of doing it myself I went to a barbershop and had my first shave. Side note: It's interesting to me that it's totally okay to allow a complete stranger to rub a sharp blade across your throat all in the name of transforming your look into something society has deemed acceptable. Total cost: $0.50.

It was getting dark so I figured I should head back to my hotel. The problem was no cab driver knew where my hotel was or spoke English for that matter. I finally found a cab driver who would take me and he actually took me to the wrong place at first because he misunderstood me. He then demanded even more money from me on top of what he was already overcharging.

Welcome to India, Chump!

After one of the worst travel experiences I've had in a while, I have arrived at my hotel in Kolkata (aka Calcutta). The airport in Bangladesh was a nightmare. So many people, none of whom know what's going on. I waited in the wrong line twice before getting to the right place. My bag was thoroughly searched at least three times. And yet, no one at any point felt the need to confirm that the name on my passport matched the name on my ticket.

It's a roughly one-hour flight to Kolkata. My first order of business was to get money. The ATM I went to was out of cash, I couldn't find the second ATM the moneychanger guy sent me to (a 5 minute walk away) so I came back to him to change money. I was goaded into changing money with a street guy instead, with the promise of a better rate. I was so flustered and overwhelmed at this point that I just took what he gave me without counting. He definitely cheated me, though I still got a better rate than I would have from the airport.

The cab situation at the airport is also confusing and a total mess. Again, flustered and overwhelmed, against my better judgement I got into a gypsy cab instead of a real cab. Luckily I didn't get kidnapped, but he definitely cheated me to a degree anyone else has yet to be so bold as to attempt. I think I paid somewhere between 3-6x what I should have paid for the ride to my hotel, but at this point I just wanted to be done with the trip. I was tired and sweaty and carrying this super heavy backpack and just wanted to sleep. Also, even with him overcharging, in the grand scheme of things, it's a matter of a few dollars.

I'm staying at the hotel Trimoorti. I found it on TripAdvisor. Seems nice, if not a little more expensive than what I should be paying for a hotel in India. I at least feel relatively safe leaving my stuff in my room. I'm going to lock it up anyway.

Bangladesh in Review, or "Why I'll Never Do Business Here"

I was skeptical about coming to Bangladesh at all. I mean... it's Bangladesh. What is there even to see there? Do you even know anyone that's been to Bangladesh? Some views I have about Bangladesh have certainly changed since coming here. Eight days was not enough time, for sure. There was a lot more to do here than I expected, but I think I probably got to see most of what I should have seen in the limited amount of time I was here. I regret not being able to spend more time in real Bangladesh. I'm so grateful to MRA and everything he did to make for an awesome trip. Unfortunately, there wasn't a single time where I was out of the car walking around for more than a few minutes at a time (excluding tourist attractions). I saw Bangladesh but there was a part of Bangladesh I didn't get to experience.

Being in a Muslim country was fascinating. I found myself wondering what it must be like being someone who is a Hindu or Christian here. I imagine the experience is pretty similar to being a Muslim in America. A lot of the country just isn't built with you in mind. In Bangladesh there are places to pray everywhere. The top floor of MRA's office is a prayer hall. When it's time for prayers, the call to prayer is blasted over the company PA system. Even at a gas station we went to, there was an outdoor prayer area. All bathrooms have stations for washing your feet because that's a part of the cleaning ritual you do before you pray. Billboards wish you a Happy Eid (a Muslim holiday) and advertise for Eid specials. People get two weeks of work off for Eid.

To do business here, one has to have a flexible relationship with ethics and morality. I was appalled at the numerous violations of safety and basic working conditions I found throughout the country. Bribery and corruption are facts of life here and you can't survive in business without greasing the wheels. I could never do business in this environment. Some people here told me that when you see wrongdoings happen, you just have to look away. It was incredibly disappointing to hear that coming from people who I used to think had stronger character. That point of view is what perpetuates this system of corruption and has ultimately crippled this country's progress.

This was an enlightening experience and I wouldn't be opposed to coming back but I certainly would never want to live here. Basic thing like being able to get from Point A to Point B in a relatively reasonable time, reliable hot water, internet access, and relatively clean streets apparently are all things I take for granted every day.

Goodbye, Bangladesh!

Today is my last day in BD. It's been a much better trip than I could have possibly imagined. All week I've felt so privileged to be the center of attention. MRA spent so much time and effort ensuring that I had a good week here and I truly did.

Today was no exception. We went to a lunch party MRA was throwing for a deputy Romanian ambassador who was finishing his rotation and moving onto his next post. MRA's family also owns this hotel so we got to go to the roof for an amazing view of Dhaka.

This was another collection of the upper crust of BD society with most people there being bigwigs in business or politics. I met a couple awesome people: a guy who works at the Egyptian embassy and a woman started her own event planning company. She was fascinating, and the only female entrepreneur I've met here. Finally someone I could ask all of my entrepreneurship questions to! Apparently there isn't a big entrepreneurship community here, and especially not if you're a woman. No surprises there. I'm glad I got to meet here. It filled in a hole I really wanted to fill before I left.

And so I'm off to India! Goodbye Bangladesh! This was definitely not your typical BD trip, but it was certainly special.

Two Paths

It's Friday which means Jummah again. We again were very graciously invited to chat and eat with the Ameer after prayers. Dad and I then went to have a second lunch at Nando's a Portuguese restaurant and probably the most modern place I've seen yet in BD.

The most memorable moment of the day was a scene in the streets. Stopped in traffic next to use was a baby-taxi, an open-air, three-wheeled motor vehicle. Sitting in the back of the taxi was a well-dressed family of three, the daughter being about six years old. A little boy about the same age was walking through the streets with his mom and sister begging for change. The family in the taxi gave him what was left of their bottle of coke which he took without any change in expression on his face. The juxtaposition of these two children, one inside the taxi and the other outside was very... real. Here they were, essentially the same child, and yet they have led and will lead two completely different lives based purely on into which family they were born.

Indian Ocean, Check!

I have officially touched three oceans now: Atlantic, Pacific, Indian. Cox's Bazar is a beach area and it's where you go when you want to vacation in BD. IT also holds the title for world's longest natural sandy sea beach, which I think is kind of a dubious claim, but what do I know? It's a four-hour drive south from Chittagong to Cox's Bazar and we started our drive at 5am. While we were out there, we saw a bunch of properties owned by MRA that in a few years will all be insane beach resorts. One of those places was a little coconut grove where we one of the caretakers climbed a tree, picked some fresh coconuts, and then opened them up for us to drink. Oh, and I pet a cow! Because there was a cow there too. Because that's a thing here in some places. Cows.

Cox's Bazar was my first time going to a beach in a Muslim country, and you guessed it, everyone was fully clothed. Even in the water, everyone was fully clothed. We spent far too little time at the beach, but we were on a tight schedule. After the beach, we went to a restaurant where you pick a life fish from a tank and voila, lunch! I don't remember what kind of fish I had, but I think it might have been the best fish I've ever eaten in my entire life, and I've eaten a LOT of fish in my life.

The Cox's Bazar airport is about the size of my thumb but it get's the job done. We arrived back in Dhaka after an hour-ish flight. That night my dad and I had dinner at BBQ tonight, which had amazing kebabs. When we returned to the guest house, MRA was having a house party! Which meant that I was at a party with my dad! Bizzaro world. Earlier in the week my dad had discovered that there was a crazy disco light in the living room, which at the time was like "uhh...... okay" but now made complete sense. For the 20-ish minutes I hung out with MRA, his friends, and my dad I felt like a total fish out of water, but I held my own and then quietly Irish Goodbye'd my way into the bedroom to sleep.

Sweaty, A Shop, but Not Quite a Sweatshop

First off, there are these huge looms that weave fabric. When I hear loom, I usually think old-school, what-we-learned-about-in-history-textbooks looms, but these suckers don't mess around. They're cold and efficient and produce fabrics like nobody's business. They're also crazy advanced - you can program into the machine the design you want on your fabric )like the ones you see in your towels or your striped shirts or your bath mats) and it'll just weave it in with lightning-quick speed. For example, all of the different products in the photo below were all woven by the same machine using the same materials. This particular factory at this particular time is making bath robes, like you would see in nice hotels. So after looking at the looms, we went upstairs to where people assemble the robes. This was the most interesting part of all.

I've been inside of chocolate factories and breweries (and had several thwarted attempts to visit a jellybean factory) but I've never seen anything quite like a textile factory. This tour is of particular significance to me because 1) this is my dad's industry and it's cool to see the inner workings of it, 2) you and I and everyone we know wears stuff that's made in Bangladesh, and 3) Bangladesh has been in the news recently because the international community (i.e. the U.S.) is finally cracking down on the ridiculously substandard conditions faced by factory workers, prompted by the collapse of a factory a few months ago that killed over a thousand people here.

I have to imagine that this is one of the factories with better conditions than most, which is kind of soul-crushing. Upstairs was a room of maybe 50 people who collectively cut fabrics, sewed them together, quality-checked the robes, and packaged them for selling. It was hot in there. Like really hot. But there were some fans, which I guess is a minor consolation. These factory workers have one job and one job alone for them to do. That could mean sewing on a pocket, for example, and that's what they would do, day-in and day-out, all day long potentially for years, if this factory kept getting the same orders. I couldn't imagine doing the same one things all day long for a week (maybe even a day), let alone for months or years. But what broke my heart the most was the age of these workers. Legally, you have to be 18 to work in Bangladesh. And when these women (girls) are hired, they might have documents showing as much, but the validity of those documents is questionable at best. BD has a very big culture of looking the other way and there's no better example than in the textile industry. I saw girls in this factory who looked like they could not have been more than 10 years old working full time. Want to take a guess at how much these girls and every other entry-level person in this factory makes? The clothes I'm wearing right now cost more than they would make in six months, roughly the equivalent of $1 USD/day.

Some of you may know that ethics is my jam. In fact, my concentration for my degree was the Ethical and Policy Implications of Biotechnology. The factory today brought up some interesting ethical questions, most importantly, is it ethical to hire underage workers? If you had asked me a few years ago, and maybe even a few days ago what I thought about the subject, my answer would have been an unequivocal "no." But at the heart of this question lies an even deeper question of "are ethics relative or absolute?" I.e., most people would agree that it's wrong to kill a person who is just standing in the street, but you'll find a greater debate about whether it's wrong to give a lethal injection to a serial killer on death row. Back to the factory, one thing that's struck me about Bangladesh is that there is poverty everywhere. A lot of these people have next to nothing. And if you're a woman, life for you is even harder. Education in this country is free up until... I think 8th grade for girls (it's actually free for more years if you're a girl than if you're a boy). After that, and before she's married, if her family really has no wealth to speak of then it's unclear what her alternatives are other than to go work. It's the reality of living in this country. Ideally, education is free for longer, or there's more wealth here to make it so that girls aren't forced to work so young but the conditions in this country are far from ideal, which is where these ethical dilemmas arise. In my mind, there's not a clear answer as to whether it's more ethical to a) allow these girls to work even though they're pretty young, or b) prevent them from working and giving them the opportunity to support their families. Caveat: there's no question that girls who are still young enough to be going to school for free should be going to school and not working. I think the real answer is that they need to be given access to education until they reach the age where they can work, which is closer to 18 than it is to 8. Of course, that's easy to say but would take a Herculean effort to accomplish, particularly in a country so strongly afflicted by political corruption.

 In case you were wondering, it surprises me as much as anyone that this is where I came out on this issue but... man, this country is a very different place and it really causes you to question positions you once took as a given.

Introducing KFC Chicken Strings

I met an adviser to the prime minister's cabinet today. His name is H. T. Imam. And he rolled into the butterfly park with a HUGE entourage, maybe five or six cars, police escorts, the works. He was meeting with the family of MRA, just because. Officially he was there to check out the butterfly park. Unofficially, unclear.

After that we spent the day in Chittagong touring some other businesses. First we went to a cement plant. At this point, I've been to so many random businesses that I have no interest in that I was kind of like "ok cool, you make cement, that's cool I guess, let's move on." After that, we went to a towel factory. Which I thought was also going to be more of the same but it turned out to be way more interesting than I expected (more on this in my next post).


In the evening we went to a replica park, which kind of sounds like it's out of a scifi movie, but basically it's a park with replicas of all the major monuments in Bangladesh. Who needs to tour the country when you can just come here? Dad wanted me to taste what KFC was like in Bangladesh, so that's where we ate for dinner. The chicken strips I had would have been more accurately called chicken strings. Dad claims the chicken here tastes better because it's all raised organically, etc. but I can't tell the difference. Maybe that's because we have good chicken in San Francisco too.

That night we stayed at the Agrabad Hotel, one of the best hotels in Chittagong, and owned by MHA. Something I'm coming to realize is that top-of-the-line in the 3rd world is roughly equal to "pretty good" by American standards. The rooms still don't feel quite as clean or in general as nice as you would find at home.

Bonus anecdote: Tonight, traffic was so bad that our driver literally started driving on the opposite side of the road directly into oncoming traffic. This actually happened. As in, the road has a divider between the two sides, and my driver crossed onto the wrong side of the road when there was a break in the divider. Not just in a "I'm gonna pass this car and get back onto the correct side of the road" kind of way but in a "oncoming cars, I hope you are paying attention because you need to dodge me as much as I need to dodge you" kind of way.

Have You Ever Been to Jail?

Today we started a trip to Chittagong, the other big city in Bangladesh. It's normally a 6-hour drive but we ended up taking around 14 hours with all of the stops we made. This was my favorite day here so far because it's the first time I felt like I've seen real Bangladesh. We left at 6am and we've got a tour guide with us for the next few days. His name is NNG, and he's an executive at MRA's company who speaks probably the best English I've heard of any Bangladeshi so far. He's also a relatively young guy so I finally had someone to ask questions to!

Major insight from the car ride: "Laws are just for paper. If you have money, you are the law." - NNG
At some point during hte ride, I was talking to NNG about the criminal justice system in Bangladesh and in an attempt to know what prison conditions are like, I'm pretty sure I accidentally asked him if he'd ever been to jail. Whoops!

Our first tourist stop was at this big river junction where the Dhakatia River is formed. The junction is so big it looks more like a lake than a river. It was the first time I've been outside when it's raining so I finally got to wear my rain jacket!

We also stopped by a place called Moinamoti, the site of an ancient civilization. You can just... walk around the ruins, it's crazy.

We finally arrived at our destination in Chittagong: the Butterfly Park of Bangladesh, also owned by MRA. It's pretty much the Bangladeshi version of San Francisco's Conservatory of Flowers, where live butterflies fly all around you. Except in Bangladesh, this is a one-of-a-kind place. Being a guest of MRA's meant that even though the place was closed, they turned on the lights for me and let me walk around the place by myself.

My hotel room had a lizard crawling around on the walls. I have nothing else to say about that.

Today we had lunch with the brother of Muhammad Yunus. Some of you may know that Muhammad Yunus is sort of a hero of mine as he is the father of microfinance, a subject that is near and dear to my heart. Apparently not only is Muhammad Yunus a Nobel Prize Winner, but his family is also part of the upper crust of Bangladeshi society. This dude was awesome. He wore these very loud, red RayBan eyeglasses because... why not? He also recommended to me that I check out Myanmar while I'm here. Oh and by the way he owns a hot-air balloon company there. No big deal.

We spent the rest of the day in MRA's office where my dad and I had a lengthy and slightly infuriating conversation about ethics in Bangladesh. It turns out my dad and I have drastically different views on doing business in this country. I'll expand on my thoughts in a later post.

We ended the night with dinner at the Sonargon hotel, one of the nicest hotels in Bangladesh. I had a burger. It was a poor choice on my part, though I really should have seen that coming.

Water Water Everywhere

You can't drink the water here. Well, I don't know about you, but I can't drink the water here. This has had a number of implications:

1. It turns out I hate brushing my teeth with bottled water. It's cumbersome and definitely feels less sanitary, though it's obviously more so than brushing with tap water.

2. I haven't shaved yet because I'm not sure how that water situation works. Which is fine, the scruff works for me, but eventually I'm going to have to figure it out. Or not, I mean, who am I trying to impress here, really?

3. It's not like bottled water is scarce, but still, I feel like it's a precious resource, so I've been cutting back on how much of it I drink. Consequently, I actually end up eating more than I normally would. That, combined with the fact that it's been too hot to exercise means my body is not happy with me right now. On top of that, muscle cramps in my legs are becoming more frequent.

4. It can sometimes lead to slightly awkward social situations. Case in point, last Friday when we were chatting with the Ameer at the mosque, he had some water brought out for us, in glasses. There was also a juice box, tea, and food brought for us and I happily consumed the rest of it, but left the water. Eventually the Ameer noticed that I hadn't touched the water and he told me that it's okay to drink, it came from a bottle. Sharp guy.

You Did What For How Many Taka?

Today our driver took us on a tour of some of the suburbs of Dhaka. The first area we went to was Shabar, about a 45-minute drive from where we are. MRA is an honorary consular for one of the embassies here, so his cars have a holder for a small flag in the front-left (like what you would see on all the cars of the diplomats in D.C.). That also means his cars come equipped with a special diplomatic horn too. What that means is a) this car would never get stopped by police and b) that horn is marginally more useful in weaving through the overwhelming traffic to get from any point A to point B. In Shabar we went to a pharmaceutical plant to see where generic drugs are made. Oddly enough, the grounds outside of the plant were impeccably manicured and covered with all different types of fruit trees. There was even a small lake in the back with fish! My dad was very impressed with all of the fruits; I on the other hand could only think "Drug plant + 3rd world = lackadaisical safety regulations + runoff chemicals; runoff chemicals + fruit = a really bad time". As we toured through the plant and asked a lot of questions, it turns out I was right about the safety regulations and I can only imagine I'm also right about the fruit.

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On our way back, we passed by the National Martyrs' Memorial, a HUGE monument to all of the Bangladeshis that died in the war for independence from Pakistan. It's the first tourist-y thing I've seen here because there aren't really that many tourist spots. The park surrounding the monument was huge and included an area where a tree is planted for every foreign head of state who has visited the monument.

After the monument we ate lunch at a state-owned restaurant that serves Bangla food and Chinese food. All of our stuff was in the car, so our driver asked a guard outside of the restaurant to watch it while we ate, with the idea being that you'll tip the guard when you leave. When we left, we gave him a 20tk tip, about $0.25, which is about right. A pretty good bargain to keep our stuff safe, if you ask me.

While we're on the subject of money, the currency here is the taka. The exchange rate right now is roughly 80 taka to 1 U.S. dollar. I'm surprised sometimes at how difficult it's been to mentally change taka numbers into dollars... doesn't seem like it should be that hard.

The next stop on our journey was the Bangladesh Military Museum. Bangladesh keeps a relatively small military but they've been involved in a surprising number of UN Peacekeeping missions, mostly a symbolic gesture I would imagine as the number of soldiers they've sent for many of those missions was <5.
The Bangladesh military also has these huge areas of the city blocked off for military/former military living quarters called cantonments. This is prime real estate that the military has taken and from the sounds of it, it's very Club Med-y. The look pretty posh from what little you can see from the outside and they have most if not all of the few golf courses in the country.

MRA wanted me to see a Bangladeshi wedding so he invited his to go to one this evening. He couldn't make it but his father MHA took us. MHA is a well-respected, well-connected businessman himself and the owner of the nicest hotel in Bangladesh, among other businesses. My dad actually knows the family first through MHA, who then asked my dad to help teach MRA some tricks of the trade when it comes to business a long, long time ago. Though MRA wanted me to see a wedding, this was certainly not your typical wedding, this was a high society affair. The wedding was huge, probably around 400 guests, most of whom I'm sure were also of well-to-do families. MHA was very welcoming throughout the entire evening and made sure we were enjoying ourselves. I didn't talk to him much but when I did, he was very receptive. Not an ounce of arrogance in his body, despite being a man of his stature. When he learned I was planning on going to India, he also offered some travel tips as well. Great guy.

Even at 10pm when we left, the traffic was crazy. People are still coming back from their Eid holiday so I think this isn't typical, but who knows when you've got a country of 150 million people that's the size of Iowa.

Head Honcho

Today we went to a bookstore. I didn't bring any books with me and I figure, at a lot of points throughout this trip I'll probably have a good amount of downtime. The bookstore was just about what you'd expect. Not a huge selection, but enough to get the job done. There was a mix of genres: classic literature, modern novels, guide books, children's books, textbooks, and others. Interestingly, the English section was slightly larger than the Bangla section. I bought the first book of the Game of Thrones series. I've seen all of the episodes to date and I've heard the books are even better.

We spent the rest of the day at MRA's office. I've never met MRA before but I was excited to finally do so. I knew he was the boss of a big company here, but it didn't quite realize what that meant until today. We arrived at the corporate headquarters and were escorted to the lobby. A few minutes later, MRA appeared and gave us a very warm greeting. After a minute, I moved into a conference room that MRA said I could use as my office for the day. From the looks of it, this was probably one of the board-room type rooms that he uses to meet with his other executives. Every so often he would come personally to check on me and make sure that I had everything I needed. I picture this as the Bangladeshi equivalent of going to visit Amazon and having Jeff Bezos come in to make sure your internet is working and that there's not too much noise in the room he's given you.

About an hour later, lunch was ordered for us and MRA, my dad, and I ate in that same room. Throughout lunch we were interrupted by staff that needed to talk to him. It is very clear that MRA is the man in charge here. When I took Improv in college, we learned about different cues you use to demonstrate your status relative to someone else and here was a textbook example of status cues in action. MRA was a very impressive man, though what impressed me the most was when he was telling my father that he wants to start a foundation to give his money away to those who need it. It wasn't appropriate at the time for me to ask a lot of questions, but I hope I have another chance to sit down with him because I'd love to know more about what he's planning.

After lunch we met another few executives in MRA's company. At first glance, these were all your typical well-educated people, but after a few minutes with them you realize these are all people with incredibly impressive backgrounds - former heads of some of the country's major sectors. We met the man who used to run telecom in Bangladesh as well as a former high-ranking military officer.

Before heading out, MRA had tea with us. He sent one of his staff to go get tea from the street, which was apparently sort of far away, but the best tea you could get locally. For me, he gave me a special tea that he brought from Sri Lanka, which my dad says is supposed to be the best tea in the world. The reason my tea was different is that MRA thought I might get sick because of the water they used in the street tea, which was very thoughtful of him.

After tea, my dad and I went on a tour of some of the local businesses owned by MRA's conglomerate. I hadn't noticed it before, but all throughout the city was MRA's company logo; construction sites, furniture stores, and gas stations were just a few of the places we were taken.

The span MRA's selection of industries and reminds me of something like a venture portfolio. There is so much opportunity for development in Bangladesh that it seems he's taking the shotgun approach of trying a whole bunch of different things and seeing which ones are runaway successes. In listening to MRA talk, it's clear that he's very much a visionary in this country. Everything, everything is an opportunity and it's inspiring to see that. As I gain more experience in business, I'd like to be able to see things more like he does.

Beeeeeeeeeeeep

Driving in Bangladesh blows my mind. Traffic lights exist but are completely ignored. Car horns are a staple of driving, being constantly honked as if to say to every passing car "watch out, I'm here." I don't think I've gone more than five seconds in a car without hearing a horn.


There are a few main forms of transportation: 1) the rickshaw, an open-air, bike-powered vehicle that are often beautifully decorated and incredibly inexpensive 2) the baby taxi, a three-wheeled, enclosed motor vehicle that's about 10x as expensive as a rickshaw and still so, so cheap, and 3) cars, lots of cars. There are also public transportation buses that I still haven't quite figured out. None of them look like they should actually work, and yet there they are.

American Dental Association Accepted

One of the most interesting things about being in a Muslim country is that... it's okay to be Muslim. That sounds like an odd thing to say, I know, but hear me out. Because pretty much everyone is Muslim, the standard greeting isn't hello, it's Assalam-o-alaikum, which is what Muslims say to each other when they meet. There are billboards that advertise for Eid specials, similar to the Christmas sales you would see in December. And one of the things that struck me the most is that you can hear the Adhan (call to prayer) being called, regardless of where you are, when it is time for prayers. Case in point: this morning, we heard the Adhan being called around 4:45am and my dad and I got up to say our morning prayers. There was something indescribably beautiful about the whole experience.

Today is Friday so we went to the mosque for Jummah this afternoon. Jummah is the weekly sermon and prayers that Muslims do, analogous to Sunday for Christians. Because Jummah is on a Friday, the weekend in Bangladesh is on Friday and Saturday.

We arrived at our mosque about an hour early. No one knew we were coming but we were immediately welcomed and shown to a place to sit while we waited. The mosque is huge, easily holding a few thousand people for prayers. After sitting for a few minutes, we were shown into the office of the private secretary for the Ameer, or country president, of our sect. He chatted with us a bit, and gave us some food and water, and a few minutes later, we were taken to sit with the Ameer himself. He was an incredibly warm and welcoming man. Very friendly and easy to talk to. I was surprised that he was able to receive us so close to Jummah; it was very nice of him. The Jummah sermon was all in Bangla, the national language of Bangladesh, so we couldn't understand a word of it. After Jummah, the Ameer wanted to talk with us some more, so we went back to his office. There, we were joined by a few others as well. They all talked business and religion for the better part of an hour before we left. I sat, nodded my head and smiled a lot.

After Jummah, we went to a supermarket to buy a few things. I had sort of expected this, but I was still a little surprised to see just how many things in this supermarket I would be able to find on the shelves of Safeway at home. Even the packaging is the same; I bought a pack of Trident that says "American Dental Association Accepted" on it.

I've only been here two days, but there is certainly some level of familiarity that I miss. There is a part of me that is dying to know every time I see a white person, "What are you doing here?! This is Bangladesh. I'm brown and even I wasn't sure I wanted to come here." I have to suppress my instinct to talk to every Caucasian person I see as if somehow we share some bond by being foreigners here.

Thus far I've only really seen Bangladesh from the inside of a car. I hope we get a chance to go outside and walk through the streets a little more before the end of the trip.

Bangladesh and the VIP Arrival Area

We arrived in Bangladesh on Thursday afternoon. Total travel time was just about 24 hours including the layover in China. All in all, it wasn't as bad as I had expected. I slept through most of the first 12-hour flight. I watched some Tom Cruise movie about the human race being forced to relocation to a moon of Saturn. Only minor plot holes. I also caught the first half of Slumdog Millionaire since I figured I should probably do some minimal research about what life in India is like before my trip in a couple weeks, and what better way then Slumdog Millionaire, right?

This will probably not be your typical trip to Bangladesh. My dad used to do business out here and he knows a handful of people in the upper echelons of the business world of Bangladesh, which means we will be well taken-care of throughout the trip. One of his friends in particular, RA, is basically providing everything for us while we are out here. Upon our arrival at the airport in Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh, we went and waited in the customs line. RA had sent a driver for us who was a couple minutes late and apologized profusely when he found us. We were then whisked out of the normal customs line and taken to an area labeled "VIP Arrival". This is where all of the diplomats and incredibly wealthy people go when they arrive here. And us, apparently. We handed our passports to the driver who took care of our immigration stuff while my dad and I waited in a posh airport lounge.

After customs, we were driven to the guest house RA provided for us while we are here. We were greeted by a Bangladeshi man and a well-dressed woman and sat with her in the living room. I didn't really understand who these people were at the time, but it turns out that this guest house is actually her house, she is an executive at RA's company, and the man is her full-time servant.

We are staying in a sector called Baridhara, which I would describe as akin to the Presidio in San Francisco. It's a relatively safe, relatively nice part of Dhaka and is also where all of the embassies are located. Conveniently the U.S. embassy (which is huge) is right down the street. I say relatively nice because compared to Bangladeshi standards, where we are staying is among the best of the best. Still, there's something that feels distinctly third world about it. I think it's the lights. They give off a somewhat sterile, while light rather than the warm yellows we have at home. Obviously there are a lot of other things (really old appliances, spotty hot water access, lack of ventilation) but I think it's really the lights that make the difference. Of course, this is juxtaposed against cable tv, beautiful furniture, and brightly-painted walls.

RA has provided us with a driver the entire time we are here. Having drivers and servants is standard practice among the well-to-do in Bangladesh and they are shockingly inexpensive by American standards, each getting paid $1-2/day for 24-hour service. Their families live in the suburbs and they only get to see them once or twice a year.

This afternoon our driver took us out for a tour of Dhaka. There isn't that much to see here. Bangladeshis get two weeks off for Eid and so the city was relatively empty compared to how is usually is. Everyone will return on Friday.

Poverty is pervasive in the streets of Bangladesh. I had been warned about this many, many times but I thought I'd still feel a deep sense of sorrow upon seeing it. It turns out... I didn't. It's sad to see, yes, but not the deep, painful sorrow one might feel for an entire class of impoverished people. Maybe it's because I've been desensitized to it from all of the homelessness in San Francisco, maybe it's because I don't feel that closely connected to these people, but it just didn't affect me like I thought it would. I think there is also something to be said for the fact that it's so omnipresent that no one scene of poverty really stands out from the rest.

After our drive, we went to one of the stomping grounds of high society in Bangladesh: Gloria Jean's Coffees. If that sounds familiar to you, it's because it is; Gloria Jean's is an Australian coffee company with over a thousand locations worldwide and it's really nothing different than your typical Starbucks. Prices are only slightly less than they would be in America, but that means that relative to Bangladesh, only the incredibly wealthy can afford to spend a few dollars on a cup of coffee and not think twice. The patrons of this place were distinctly different than what I had seen of Bangladesh thus far (aside from the airport VIP lounge). Well-dressed, many speaking English, and a handful of people who were clearly not native Bangladeshis.

We have no itinerary while we are here so we'll just be taking each day as it comes. I'm excited to see what this place has in store for me over the next week and a half.

If I Had A Superpower

"I've never experienced anything like this before." That's what I said to my dad as we walked to our connecting gate at the airport in China. Why? It's 2:00 am local time and there were no lights on inside the terminal. Just a few screens and whatever light flooded in through the windows from outside. So here we sit now, in the dark, waiting for the rest of China to wake up.

When people ask, "If you could have one superpower, what would it be?" I either answer frictionlessness (yup) or to be able to experience things like it was the first time. Do you remember what the beach was like the first time you went? I don't. But I'm sure it was awesome. I imagine the same was true of seeing my first elephant or climbing my first tree. One of the things I'm looking forward to the most on this journey is to experience a whole lot of totally new things for the first time. One might say I've got superpowers for the next year.

Adieu, San Francisco! It's Been Real.

As I write this, I'm 30,000 feet up somewhere over the northeastern side of China. I had originally intended to start this blog the day I left Google on July 12th but... well, life got in the way.

My last weeks at Google were so much better than I could have hoped for. A week before I left, my family came to visit and we spent a few hours touring around Google. As I was showing them all of the amazing things about where I worked, it really hit me how truly one-of-a-kind this place is. I think most people would agree that I probably took advantage of what Google had to offer more than your average Googler (attending TGIF, author talks, musical guests, bowling at the bowling alley, trying out new cafes, etc.). Even still, those last few days left me feeling like I hadn't soaked up enough in my time here. So many amazing people I never reached out to to grab lunch. All the gFit workout classes I never took. The crazy amount of resources to help me learn how to code that I never used. These last few days were the first time I had ever seriously considered coming right back to Google after school, instead of doing something else and maybe heading back here eventually. The outpouring of love and support from my friends and colleagues in those last few days was also so much more than I had expected and reminded me just how much Google really was home to me.

That last Friday was weird. And great and sad and unnerving and exciting. I said my goodbyes, had my exit interview, and hopped on the last Google shuttle I'll ever take (unless I come back...). Fittingly, my favorite bus driver was driving so I didn't need that temporary bus pass my exit interviewer had given me. After I got off the shuttle, I reached down to tuck my badge into my pocket only to realize that I didn't have my badge anymore. Weird.


I took the next week to do absolutely nothing productive. It was one of the best weeks I've ever had in San Francisco and I highly recommend it to anyone who is similarly able to do so. That first Monday I went for a run/jog/walk that I originally intended to be just a mile (gotta start somewhere, right?) but ended up taking me to the Golden Gate Bridge and back (~8 miles round trip). It was the perfect way to start funemployment. The rest of that week I saw a bunch of friends, I didn't worry about planning my trip, I just enjoyed my city.


The following three weeks I started doing all of the things I needed to do before I left for my trip: sketch out my itinerary, get visas, get all of my finances in order, figure out health insurance, get vaccinations, buy plane tickets, buy stuff for my trip, sell all my big stuff, and see everyone before I left, among other things. It was more stressful than I thought, so I'm glad I gave myself those extra few weeks in San Francisco before leaving to get it all done. In retrospect, I think it would have been nicer to spend one more week here just to relax, but that's a slippery slope that ends up with me still being in San Francisco come December.
On my second-to-last night in San Francisco I had a going-away thing at Blue Light on Union Street. As usual, I only planned it two days earlier, so I was surprised to see how many people showed up over the six hours we were there. Moral of the story: my friends are awesome. So, so awesome.

Selling stuff on Craigslist sucks when you're rushed. I got a lot less money for stuff than I wanted but I'm just glad to have gotten rid of it. Thankfully, my brother rented an SUV and though his magical packing skills, we managed to fit all of the rest of my stuff into it.

The first stop on my trip is Bangladesh. My dad was headed out for some business thing and he invited me to tag along. It was actually what prompted my entire Asia trip. I knew I wanted to see Asia at some point this year, so I figured, why not start in Bangladesh and go on to do the rest of my Asia trip? My five-year Stanford reunion is in mid-October, so I've set that as the end date for me to return home. I miss San Francisco already, so I'm kind of glad to be headed back soon. I say that now but... we'll see what happens after two months of Asia. Right now I'm planning on spending about 10 days in Bangladesh before heading off to India and then to parts unknown.

And so my journey begins. As far as this blog goes, I'm hoping it will serve not only as a travel log, but a life log. Not just about the places I've been to and the things I've seen, but the thoughts I'm thinking, the feeling I'm feeling, and the experiences I'm experiencing. So to you, dear audience, I say this: this is my blog and it is one small part me doing me for the next year. A whole year! It'll be over before I know it, I'm sure.