Terrible Beauty

Though I dislike the New York Times' travel section, this article isn't that bad, if only for the phrase "terrible beauty," and the gorgeous imagery.

Billy Goat

This guy is amazing.

Motorboat, Bengali-style

In the Naf River, back in January.

To Get Lost

"The alleyways and courtyards of the city still embody the disorienting quality of Kafka's work [Unbearable Lightness of Being]. As cold night descends, the twisting little lanes seem to mock the city plan clutched in a traveler's numbing fingers. Prague defies maps. Prague is a place to get lost."

--"Footsteps: Milan Kundera's Prague - Trumping the Unbearable Darkness of History" by Nicholas Kulish, from the New York Times

From Dhaka to Calcutta, We Go

The Moitree, or Maitreyi, Express in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Photo by Subir Bhaimuk from the BBC.

Today marks the first official run of the Moitree Express (Friendship Express) from Dhaka, Bangladesh to Calcutta, India. This train used to run back when Bangladesh was still Pakistan, but it was shut down during the 1965 war between India and Pakistan (which eventually led to the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War from Pakistan). Fittingly, today is also Bengali New Year's.

My dad said it was a shame we weren't in Bangladesh now so that we might've taken the train. The cheapest tickets are around $8 U.S., which probably means that first class tickets would be around $20 U.S. Looking at the BBC's pictures, it seems like the interior of the train resembles the train we took from Chittagong to Dhaka--the fans on the ceilings, the seats, the doors. Though, our train wasn't decorated with flowers.

My dad recalled his father's stories about taking the bus from Dhaka to Calcutta to his first job when Bangladesh was still part of India. His father, my grandfather, was part of three countries: India, Pakistan and Bangladesh; my mother and father were part of the latter two.

I hope, the next time I'm in Bangladesh, I get to take this train.

North Carolina

Now in North Carolina, getting ready to leave Graham's house. The drive was long (thank you, Josh) and now we're heading out to Nashville. More later.

On the Road to Memphis

Come tomorrow morning, Josh and I will be on our way to Richfield, Nashville and Memphis.

Thank god. I needed to get out of the city.

Those Moments of Travel

"The supreme moments of travel are born of beauty and strangeness in equal parts: the first panders to the senses, the second to the mind; and it is the rarity of this coincidence which makes the rarity of these moments."

--Robert Byron, First Russia, Then Tibet

Unfinished Paths to Nowhere

Because it's dangerous to cross the streets in Bangladesh, there are overhead pathways. At a major intersection near outer-Dhaka, these pathways remain unfinished, like many things in the country.

A Clean(er) Bangladesh

The street outside my oldest aunt's house in Bangladesh.

After reading this article about a plastic bag ban in Ireland (brought to my attention by my lovely Hannah), I thought about Bangladesh. And garbage.

Back in 1995, one of my clearest memories of Bangladesh was the overwhelming smell of garbage. The heavy heat of the summer plus the immense amounts of trash lying around in the streets created the deepest, strongest scent of rot. It felt like you were branded with that smell for days.

Afterwards, before we left for Bangladesh back in December, I read somewhere that Bangladesh banned plastic (polythene, as they call it) bags because of clogged drainage systems, in 2002. Instead, they have these neat netted bags and, of course, paper bags.

While the government thought ahead with the plastic bag ban, there is still no accountability for garbage in Bangladesh. The lack of garbage cans is to be expected. At my oldest aunt's house, I looked for a place to throw out a candy wrapper, but I couldn't find a garbage can. I asked my aunt where I should throw it. She took it and threw it off the balcony. This is where my mother picked up her habit from. Outside, the streets are filled with litter, just like in 1995, and every so often, as you drive, you see heaps of garbage along the roads. Poorer people pick through the piles, looking for anything that could be recycled, useful for themselves or sold for money.

On a similar note, in Dhaka, we were used to green-colored baby taxis, or autorickshaws. During an outing to Sonargon, I noticed more and more yellow-colored autorickshaws as we got further and further away from Dhaka. My cousin, Dola, pointed them out to me and told me that the government was going to ban them soon and replace them with the green autorickshaws. Why? The yellow autorickshaws ran on petrol, which contributed to Bangladesh's already horrible air quality. The newer, green autorickshaws run on compressed natural gas, or CNG.

These laws, along with the abundance of rickshaws and human-powered vehicles (walking carts, carrying cargo by hand, rowing boats (!!!)), would make you think that Bangladesh is well on its way to being a clean country, but you'd be wrong. Despite the CNGs and cycling in Dhaka, the streets were still clogged with cars and buses. The air was thick with smog and dust--I had a constant cough the entire time I was there. It took me a week to adjust to New York's cleaner air when I got back. Shocking, no?

Flying Over Maine, Early in the Morning

Moving Cargo

Check out the guy on the rickshaw holding the long, long metal pipe.

Roofs of Dhaka

the aspect of landing, or, the aspect of leaving

dropped
stomach knows as soon as plane
lifts off
            not grounded
            not touching earth
        midair

        somewhere
        tilted
        in vehicle
            that somehow flies
        a mystery
            of science

dizzying landing
extending to my stomach

humans don't fly &
        we are not
        connected
to anything at that moment


& under flat rows
of clouds that look
like tissues
flat & rumpled, white
dim subdued lights
of the city glow through
hints of the bustle

everything is clearer
above the world

I am closer to
the starts than I've
ever been before

I want to be the leaver, not get left behind

see where the water ends and
the sky begins (at night it
all meshes together
like one
dark
mess) & ships look like
they're flying

so
many
things
will
feel
familiar

breathe
sigh
in

make the first move
before anything
can be
set

get away first
get away far
get away close
to change my way of mind
setting of my mind
being of my mind
being molded
infiltrated with settings of
these different settings while
sunsets stay golden they
have different tints different
angles different shading

clouds leave shadows
on the world I fly
to Florida and I see
all of New York displayed
to my right each skyscraper
ready to be picked up by my
hand and
those clouds above leave
gray spots all over New York
darkening those streets for
those few seconds as the
clouds slowly roll away
darkening everything in its path
but I fly ahead and
beat the clouds

Rowing in the Naf River

This was taken during our boat ride to St. Martin's Island, off the coast of Bangladesh. The Naf River acts as the border between Burma and Bangladesh.

The Betrayed World

"Beauty is the world betrayed."
--Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being



Sonargon was the first capital of Bangladesh. My cousin told me about these old, Hindi houses out there that are abandoned now, and the government can't afford to preserve them, so there they stand. Of course, people live in many of those buildings because, hey, it's shelter.

(One of) Moghbazar's Mosques

This was the mosque my father went to when he was a child with his father.

The Corals of St. Martin's

Bits: Peace on Paper, Obama's Grammy, International Learning, Modernizing India, Getting Those Step-Ons and Turtle and Elephant Tales

Unfinished highway in Mumbai. Photograph by Adam Ferguson, via Time.

1.

"Virtual Peace Isn't Enough" by Zalman Shoval, from the New York Sun

Bush's new goal is to set a definition of the Palestine state, rather than creating it. Granted, though, that would be impossible to do in his remaining 7 months.

And Shoval does bring up a good point: on paper, peace means nothing; it's the actual implementation of peace and laws that create it that really mean something.

2.

"Maine to Obama; Clinton Replaces Campaign Leader" by Katharine Q. Seelye, from the New York Times
Hahahaha, Obama won a Grammy and beat Bill Clinton.

3.

"U.S. Universities Rush to Set Up Outposts Abroad" by Tamar Lewin, from the New York Times

Globalization is obviously big and now, instead of international students flocking to the U.S. for education, there is a new place for them in the Middle East and American universities are giving them those opportunities. Brian Baird, a subcommittee member, brings up an interesting point:

"Still, he said he worried that foreign branches could undermine an important American asset--the number of world leaders who were students in the United States.

'I do wonder," he said, 'if we establish many of these campuses overseas, do we lose some of that cross-pollination?'"

4.

"Rebuilding Mumbai" photographed by Adam Ferguson, from Time

These pictures remind me a lot of Bangladesh, except that one picture of the brightly-lit streets at night. In Bangladesh, there was always a dark soft glow of light.

5.

"Indonesia to spray train roof riders" from Reuters

I saw this a lot in Bangladesh: people cram into any space they can when using public transportation, even if that means sitting on the roof of a car, truck or train, without any fear. In this article, it says about 53 people died traveling that way in Indonesia. I wonder what the number for Bangladesh would be. And, come on Reuters, Indonesia isn't part of Africa...

6.

"Turtle Swims from Indonesia to Oregon" from the AP

So he swam 13,000 miles. You go, turtle.

7.

"Wild elephant stray into B'desh village, kill man" from Reuters

And another elephant, though nowhere near where I was.

The Living River

"...The living river and the living river alone gives coherence and significance and therefore beauty to the canyon world. 'I love all things which flow,' said the deepest of Irishmen."

--Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire