We're really at a loss on how to begin this one. Boy- it's been a doozy! We're both exhausted, dirty, dehydrated and not coping at maximum capacity. OK so we're being a little dramatic- but it comes with the territory! WE'RE IN BANGLADESH!!

  Presently we are in our hotel room (5 star... you wouldn't know it from the view, or from from the creature in our A/C vent that keeps making creepy noises) at Cox's Bazaaar. Now don't be fooled if you want to do a little google search on the place. It's not Cox Bay, Tofino... Oh no. It's in BANGLADESH!

 The story is about how we got here. Left our home sweet home yesterday at 6pm. Caught a bus from the University just down the street from our house to the main train station in Kamalapur. This, we know from experience should have only taken about 15 minutes. Should being the operative word. Instead, it took us 2.5 hours. And this ain't no normal bus. Oh no. So we get to the train station around 9:30pm. We walk all the way to our train, and then realize we won't be able to have access to a bathroom for 12 hours. So we walk all the way back out, just to pay some guy to use the toilet (dirtiest toilet we'd ever seen by far- but we decided it was definitely a good experience... still haven't gotten used to the no toilet paper thing... what do you do with the little tap and the plastic tea pot???). Whatever.

(Interject sad story here. See below)

  So our train. Well, we're for sure in Economy class. Which means that the bench which sits two is barely big enough to bit to smallish girl bums. 90 degree angle. Very little padding on the bench. All this = extremely sore bodies. The train ride- which left the station at 10:40pm took upwards of 13 hours. It was the worst. Bangladesh men snore. Really really loudly. And at each of the 14 station stops we made, people attacked the train doors (which were locked) trying to get in. Apparently this is normal. For us, however, it sounded like a violent break and enter attempt. Pretty wild. The guard reminded us to keep the window closed and locked " for safety purposes" while he acted out what it might be like for someone to swipe in and grab at us. Effective teaching technique. Very effective. In addition to this we had our good friend providing us with an hour count down... guess what, after 7 hours you do not want to hear that there are 5 more left. But those 5 hours did eventually pass and we arrived gratefully into Chittagong.

Once in Chittagong we boarded a bus which, much to our glee, had reclining chairs... no leg room resulting in bruised knees...but reclining nonetheless. Now we are onto adventure 2; let's review: snoring, banging, aching bodies, dehydration, and security tutorials... next up: HONKING. Now these honking's are not little "honk honk- please move little friend" these honking's are "HOOOONNNKKK HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNKKKK (yup, they hold that horn for a really long time)- I AM COMING AND IT DOESNT MATTER IF YOUR IN MY WAY" Sleep? No. To help give you a better picture of this continual honking, it feels like  this: After a set of 4 shifts you are finally in bed, ready to drift into a blissful sleep, but can you? No... although finished work you are constantly hearing beeping IV pumps and call bells. Nurse friends, you can relate to this! These nail down the chalk board sort of sounds are haunting our sleep as well.

But the journey wasn't really THAT bed and besides Ricki only managed to obtain 6 more mosquito bites to add to the tally. We stopped for breakfast which was really amazing and much needed and then continued our journey for an additional 6 hours and then arrived here! To Cox's Bazaar.

In all actuality our journey's discomforts do not compare even slightly to some of the things we've seen thus far. In the train station, on our way back to our seats from using that dirty bathroom we spoke of above, we saw dozens of railway children... no home, no parents, no security. It is heartbreaking. Our cold bodies were not comparable to the shivering bodies of two of the young boys we saw. Maybe 8 years old, sitting with their knees to their chest and their thin shirts pulled over. We couldn't even tell what color their tops were... brown, grey, white.... they matched the sand and cold tile they slept on. Other children grouped together and huddling for warmth, many with no shoes on and only cut off pants. There were whole families in the train station trying to survive like this. How is it possible that something this unjust exists? Of course it exists though, this is the real world, this is what more children live like than we can even imagine. Although this was an unpleasant journey, it is a humbling one, and a journey that we have learned a great deal from. We could draw many parallels here as well to documentaries we've seen on street boys in Haiti- boys wanting so badly for a life where they can go to school, have food to eat, have a family to call their own. We continue to be so overwhelmed with gratitude for the life of privilege we have.

  So many things to be thankful for back home... clean air being one of them. The air here is so polluted and so dusty. Blowing your nose is scary for the black visual you get of what your breathing in. Pollution from vehicles, brick factories and garments factories to name a few. Carrie, as much as we wish you were here, your asthma would hate you! Heidi skyped her niece Avery the other day and she asked, " auntie Heidi, is it sunny at your house?" and we had to pause because we wasn't sure how to respond... how do you describe the ever existing haze to a almost 3 year old?  We just said " well Avery it's really dusty here and there's a lot of smoke in the air so it's hard to see the sun"... hope that sufficed.

 Needless to say, we've had our showers and are looking into flights back to Dhaka instead of a repeat of our recent journey. Maybe we're just not quite tough enough yet to take it just right yet.

 There are SO many people here. 150ish million in Bangladesh. 14+ million in Dhaka alone.

 We'll close the electrical plugs here are not compatible with this computer charger and it's almost dead. Will send photos next time.

  Much love and thankfulness, Heidi and Ricki