Here we begin our post about the 36 hours spent at St. Martins Island:
Act One: Blissful Bus Rides
Two hours it takes to get from the Seagull Hotel to the ferry dock. Two hours of deep breathing, closed eyes, and reassuring thoughts every 30 seconds "We are going to be okay" "Just breathe". In two hours you also develop some thought aggressors; security guards that chase away sneaky thoughts like "This is it... I'm going to puke".
Our two hour bus ride from the hotel was primarily spent airborne. With frequent gasps as we lifted off our seats and a sigh of relief when we landed without a head injury. Although we consistently escaped death we did not escape pelvic bruises from our landing on the 'cushioned' seats. It was a bit dis-concerning to see everyone sleeping in front of us, heads nicely placed on each others shoulders, shawls wrapped around their arms for warmth... and then the bus driver gaining speed in order to clear the crater located 1 km ahead...and us bracing our bodies as we prepared to be launched off our take off pads. With our fate set out before us we acted quickly: we swiftly linked arms with our adjacent passengers, clinched our eyes shut, said a quick little prayer of safety and we were off! Soaring through the air like weightless feathers, hovering over the sleeping people above us, thinking for a fraction of a second that if we knew we would have a safe landing that this could actually be fun. Then suddenly, snapped back into reality... gravity re appears with full force and pulls us back down to our crash pads... CRASH BOOM BANG, usually about one seat to the left from our home base. Whip lash and iliac crest hematomas were a mere side effect. We considered taking gravol to keep our nausea level down to about 40%, but knew that without full attentiveness we wouldn't survive the impending take off's. We: Heidi, Ricki, and Jim remained a strong united team and made it to St. Martin's Island. Needless to say, were first in line to reserve our seats home; we had done our time.
Act Two: Tortoises, Tea
Here we would like to avert your gaze from the horrors above towards brighter things, like sunsets on the beach, and coconuts. Our voyage post bus ride was completed via Ferry and we were quite pleased to be seated (in one spot) for a while. We sat with the Vice Chancellor Dr. Miyan and had the most enlightening conversations. He told us his story- once an orphan, now with a Phd and the journey to get there. He's one of the most progressive people, let alone Bangladeshi people we've ever met. He told us epic tales of years spent jumping thought hundreds of political hoops in order to open the doors for private education in Bangladesh. He started the first BBA program in the country and has laid the foundation for accessible education and private (therefore much less corrupt) colleges and universities. Pretty cool guy.
We arrived on St. Martins Island- the smell of fresh, sea air so comforting and nostalgic. Immediately Dr. Miyan sat us down and we watched as a man, skilled with the machete, cut into a coconut, popped in a straw and placed it in our hands. We drank- to our delight- the most tasty and fresh coconut water possible and afterwards, scooped delicious young coconut pulp into our mouths. Amazing.
We arrived to the site of ancient looking vessels (fishing boats) which we will from here on in refer to as Pirate Ships. Because it's funner.
We crossed the beach and arrived at our hotel. Actual that's a lie. It was more like a motel. That's a lie as well. Basically sketchy. The door only partially closed (we pulled one of the beds in front for the nite lest we incur unwanted guests. The sheets were stained and we had to share a very small, very dirty blanket. No toilet paper. No soap. No towels. We didn't shower. But, we were right on the beach so that made up for it :) To make matters just a little more frightening and hilarious, we had just listened to a podcast on sleep done by This American Life. If you have not yet subscribed to it you should. It's awesome. It recounts numerous stories of bugs, which we had "crawling" through our minds as we fell asleep. Fun. http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/361/fear-of-sleep
We strolled that evening along a beach which we later came to learn was called "Hatching Turtles ". We came across a sobering scene. 10+ dead Tortoises on the beach. Some had clearly been there a long time, some not so long. Hard to say. We're curious how they may have died and had a funeral service for one, placing rocks in a circle around it ( just like in The Lorax which if you haven't seen, you need to). The locals at this point think we are crazy. We will address this in more detail in our next blog. Not the crazy foreigner part, but the Tortoise part. Although we're sure they still think we're nuts.
We sipped tea at one of the local (numerous) tea stalls and watched the sun slip behind the haze just about the horizon. It was lovely. Drinking tea (along with walking and Badminton) has become one our our most favoured pastimes since arriving. It's served in tiny cups filled half full. Regular tea with condensed milk and heaps of sugar. We have to ask for " Alpo Mishty Cha" or " Little Sweet Tea". Even that is ridiculously sweet, but not having much access to sweets we enjoy it a lot.
We have to close now as we must check out of the hotel. We'll send photos soon and continue our thoughts and some more stories- they're the harder ones.
Love you. Ricki & Heidi
Act One: Blissful Bus Rides
Two hours it takes to get from the Seagull Hotel to the ferry dock. Two hours of deep breathing, closed eyes, and reassuring thoughts every 30 seconds "We are going to be okay" "Just breathe". In two hours you also develop some thought aggressors; security guards that chase away sneaky thoughts like "This is it... I'm going to puke".
Our two hour bus ride from the hotel was primarily spent airborne. With frequent gasps as we lifted off our seats and a sigh of relief when we landed without a head injury. Although we consistently escaped death we did not escape pelvic bruises from our landing on the 'cushioned' seats. It was a bit dis-concerning to see everyone sleeping in front of us, heads nicely placed on each others shoulders, shawls wrapped around their arms for warmth... and then the bus driver gaining speed in order to clear the crater located 1 km ahead...and us bracing our bodies as we prepared to be launched off our take off pads. With our fate set out before us we acted quickly: we swiftly linked arms with our adjacent passengers, clinched our eyes shut, said a quick little prayer of safety and we were off! Soaring through the air like weightless feathers, hovering over the sleeping people above us, thinking for a fraction of a second that if we knew we would have a safe landing that this could actually be fun. Then suddenly, snapped back into reality... gravity re appears with full force and pulls us back down to our crash pads... CRASH BOOM BANG, usually about one seat to the left from our home base. Whip lash and iliac crest hematomas were a mere side effect. We considered taking gravol to keep our nausea level down to about 40%, but knew that without full attentiveness we wouldn't survive the impending take off's. We: Heidi, Ricki, and Jim remained a strong united team and made it to St. Martin's Island. Needless to say, were first in line to reserve our seats home; we had done our time.
Act Two: Tortoises, Tea
Here we would like to avert your gaze from the horrors above towards brighter things, like sunsets on the beach, and coconuts. Our voyage post bus ride was completed via Ferry and we were quite pleased to be seated (in one spot) for a while. We sat with the Vice Chancellor Dr. Miyan and had the most enlightening conversations. He told us his story- once an orphan, now with a Phd and the journey to get there. He's one of the most progressive people, let alone Bangladeshi people we've ever met. He told us epic tales of years spent jumping thought hundreds of political hoops in order to open the doors for private education in Bangladesh. He started the first BBA program in the country and has laid the foundation for accessible education and private (therefore much less corrupt) colleges and universities. Pretty cool guy.
We arrived on St. Martins Island- the smell of fresh, sea air so comforting and nostalgic. Immediately Dr. Miyan sat us down and we watched as a man, skilled with the machete, cut into a coconut, popped in a straw and placed it in our hands. We drank- to our delight- the most tasty and fresh coconut water possible and afterwards, scooped delicious young coconut pulp into our mouths. Amazing.
We arrived to the site of ancient looking vessels (fishing boats) which we will from here on in refer to as Pirate Ships. Because it's funner.
We crossed the beach and arrived at our hotel. Actual that's a lie. It was more like a motel. That's a lie as well. Basically sketchy. The door only partially closed (we pulled one of the beds in front for the nite lest we incur unwanted guests. The sheets were stained and we had to share a very small, very dirty blanket. No toilet paper. No soap. No towels. We didn't shower. But, we were right on the beach so that made up for it :) To make matters just a little more frightening and hilarious, we had just listened to a podcast on sleep done by This American Life. If you have not yet subscribed to it you should. It's awesome. It recounts numerous stories of bugs, which we had "crawling" through our minds as we fell asleep. Fun. http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/361/fear-of-sleep
We strolled that evening along a beach which we later came to learn was called "Hatching Turtles ". We came across a sobering scene. 10+ dead Tortoises on the beach. Some had clearly been there a long time, some not so long. Hard to say. We're curious how they may have died and had a funeral service for one, placing rocks in a circle around it ( just like in The Lorax which if you haven't seen, you need to). The locals at this point think we are crazy. We will address this in more detail in our next blog. Not the crazy foreigner part, but the Tortoise part. Although we're sure they still think we're nuts.
We sipped tea at one of the local (numerous) tea stalls and watched the sun slip behind the haze just about the horizon. It was lovely. Drinking tea (along with walking and Badminton) has become one our our most favoured pastimes since arriving. It's served in tiny cups filled half full. Regular tea with condensed milk and heaps of sugar. We have to ask for " Alpo Mishty Cha" or " Little Sweet Tea". Even that is ridiculously sweet, but not having much access to sweets we enjoy it a lot.
We have to close now as we must check out of the hotel. We'll send photos soon and continue our thoughts and some more stories- they're the harder ones.
Love you. Ricki & Heidi
Sounds rad! Thanks for sharing!
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