Saturday in the Village

Dear family and friends- please know that despite all the adventures we’ve had and will continue to have, we miss you and thinking of you all the time. There’s something so comforting about home- even when we’re so far away.

 This week was special somehow- it felt like something clicked, like we’re home here.

Last Saturday was most assuredly the best day yet- hands down. We were grateful to be here in Uttara, and not on a boat, or a bus, or a train- happy and peaceful in our little flat. We began the day like most- with a cup of coffee- the nectar of life as Ricki calls it. We brought about 5 pounds with us- 2 from Habit, 2 from Coffee Collective in Saskatoon (intelligentsia style) and 1 from Fernwood Coffee Roasters in Victoria. It’s SUCH a great way to start our days. Coffee dates or coffee rides (biking from one shop to another) were something we enjoy so much in Victoria, and so it’s nice to bring that piece of home with us. We sat for several hours just talking, just the two of us as we sipped- such precious moments as a lot of our life is spent in the chaos of city.

We wandered our way down to the Village midmorning, which is maybe a 10 minute stroll (the long way around) from our flat. We passed kids playing Cricket in the narrow streets, were met with many “Hello!!!”s, and took in the sights and sounds of Saturday.  Earlier in the month, Jim (another volunteer here) had shown us a great little breakfast joint deep in the heart of the village. Breakfast dates/ outings are a very very close second to stops at coffee shops and so we had to try it. We’d been warned, and have stayed clear of “street food”, but we were willing to give this a try.

We watched as they made “Parata” from scratch- flat bread, oiled and fried slightly. It was straight off the piping hot grill when the served it to us. That, coupled with a few fried eggs (and green chili’s of course- because they are in EVERYTHING) rolled up made the most incredible breakfast we’d had in a long time. Careful to only eat with our right hands and forgetting about the dirty little handshakes we had given just minutes before, we devoured our meal.  And our meal wouldn’t have been complete without a cup of  “Cha” (tea).

Now this takes a bit of explaining because it isn’t like a normal cup of tea.  Tea Stalls are to Bangladesh what coffee shops are to Canada. They. Are. Everywhere.  Literally.  Here's the deal. Mostly, you never see woman sitting in the stalls- just men, and boys of course. They sit and drink and smoke and socialize. But, being brave and foreign we figured it can’t hurt for us to venture beyond these sexist boundaries- and so far, it’s been delightful! Ok, so you pay 5 Tka (which is about 5 cents for us) and you get this little tiny glass cup maybe only about 1/3 full. We’re not sure why they don’t just fill it to the top, but maybe we’re just so used to our “60 ounce, Super Size me” culture.  But first, they take the tiny glass out of someone else’s hand- who just finished his cup- pour a bit of hot water in it and Vualla! It’s clean. We hope.  They stall keeper then takes out his strainer, takes the metal kettle full of steeping black tea, and adds a bit to our glasses. He takes A LOT of sugar, stirs it in, and then adds 2 generous teaspoons of condensed milk (yummmm- more sweetness) and you’ve got yourself one tasty treat! It’s really so good. But it’s kinda one of those things where if you made it at home yourself, it wouldn’t be nearly as good. It’s like going to your great aunts house for homemade bread or something- it’s gotta be at her house with her butter and her smell.  And for this tea you need the dust of Dhaka, and the filthy water below you, and the guy smoking a cigarette just a little to close, and the tiny cups and the people staring and the “HELLO!!!”s from all the kids. Its one of those Bangladesh things we’ve discovered and have fallen in love with. It really is the simple things in life.

So- back on track- we had tea with our breakfast, and then on our way home we had to stop for some more.  We’d made friends recently with some local young boys and one of them- Robbie- works at this tea stall (literally a few pieces of tin roofing, some bamboo posts and that’s about it). So we sit down and are immediately the centers of attention- what with being white and women and all.  We try to learn some Bangla, and learn their names (soooo hard), and they try on their best English. Robbie is beautiful- these stunning light brown eyes. He must be maybe 10, but it’s hard to tell because most peoples growth here is so stunted with the lack of adequate nutrition. They have a pigeon home at the back of their shop and so they talk us into holding them (don’t even THINK of the diseases!) and Heidi showed Ricki the one trick she learned from having chickens- if you put your hand over their head they go still and don’t struggle… maybe because they think it’s night time or something? Not sure. Anyway, we say good-bye finally and wander home.

 On our way we get our kid fix with little cute baby bellies, tickling little kids, holding hands, hugs, high 5’s, and many many hello’s.  The kids here are just incredible. An interesting aside, is that we’ve noticed that a number of little girls we’ve met so far have 2 thumbs. They seem perfectly normal otherwise, but we suspect it’s because of marrying to closely or something like that.

After arriving home we had lunch (rice and dahl) and in the afternoon we did a little work out on the “You are your own Gym” ipad app Ricki has. Being “activity junkies” of sorts, we have really missed being able to be active here. These little work outs are something we really look forward to and they’re actually really hard!

 We’ll close for now, and next time we’ll tell you about “Bedtel”. That’s probably not how you spell it- we’ll do our research and get back to you. 

Tomorrow is another Hartel so our classes are cancelled- which means our 1^st term exam won’t happen either. Our students are most likely rejoicing at this very moment. So it goes- this is Bangladesh.