22
This has been one of the strangest birthdays I have ever had. Thinking about my past few September 17ths in Montreal spent celebrating in unison with my two birthday twins Pasha (Happy 21st) and Martin, one of my former roommates, (Happy 23rd) and my other close friends from the IRSAM crowd made it surreal. It’s only tonight, now that things have calmed down and it looks like I’ll be spending the remainder of the evening typing this journal entry, finding something to eat downstairs and watching the BBC, that it will really sink in that I’m not having dinner at a Bring Your Own Wine in the Plateau, followed by a night on the town and the inevitable late night, alcohol-saturated discussions back at 3433 St. Denis lasting well on into the next morning. Things always change though, making those memories and this day all the better.
Marc and I decided to spend the day exploring Gulshan and Baridhara on foot; one because only I had seen a small section of it before; two because it was a nice day and relatively cool; and three…well, I wanted a little taste of the West on my birthday. The car that was available to take us up there the day, for a reason I can’t explain for the life of me, it was a supped-up Acura, complete with gigantic spoiler and subwoofer. In a way it characterized the places we were to visit and food we were to eat throughout the day – it brought a thought to your mind that something was just a little askew. But hey, we rode with it and enjoyed the massage of the bass as we sat comfortably in the air-conditioned back seat as Shawn Paul did his thing on the stereo.
Almost immediately after getting out of the car and successfully communicating with our driver and friend from the office that we wouldn’t need a ride home and would be taking a CNG Taxi (the little green ones), I saw the glass doors of a gelato shop and decided my lunch would consist of an ice-cream sundae: one scoop each of vanilla and pistachio ice cream covered in chunks of chocolate and sauce. Nutritious, isn’t it? Feeling satisfied and ready to get started on the real walking, we headed eastwards along Kamal Ataturk Avenue towards the DIT II traffic circle in Gulshan. Usually it’s teeming with traffic, but on this Friday morning it was quiet, as expected. Using my trusty Lonely Planet book as a guide, we headed into the quiet streets surrounding the commercial area where most of the High Commissions are located. The streets themselves are in good shape, as are most of the British-colonial and very tropical looking High Commissions, but the actual layout is a bit of a headache; Road 35 was intersected by Roads 38, 39, 45, 47 and 48…but not in that order. You get the idea. Eventually I asked a British-sounding man where we could find the Canadian HC, and it ended up being just around the corner from where we were.
Unfortunately you’re not allowed to take pictures of the compound, (and the five guards outside would certainly have followed up on the answer I received when I asked said question), but it wasn’t anything special from the outside anyways. A two-storey red brick building with a long driveway filled with five SUVs, with a small guard post out front. The most interesting feature had to be the permanently installed queue for visa applicants resembling one you might find outside a small amusement park ride. The High Commission was closed today but it gave me an idea of just how many applications they receive on a regular basis. It seems as though anyone with knowledge of the outside world wants to come to Canada, and I wish we could welcome them all…but that’s an issue for another post. Not yet feeling hungry for a substantial meal to make up for our ice-cream lunch, we left the HC and headed south down Gulshan Avenue to see what was to be seen. We had barely been walking five minutes before we found the entrance to the ‘Wonderland Amusement Park’. Faster than you can say, “wouldn’t an amusement park in the 3rd world be a bit sketchy?” we were in with the full intention to use the free ride token that came with our 50 taka (~$1 CAD) admission.
Now, it was Friday, so I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. But the first thing that sprang into my mind after walking through the front gate was that the park resembled more of a post-apocalyptic miniature Disneyland than a bustling fantasy park worthy to carry the word ‘amusement’ in its title. But that only gave it more charm. It also gave me a great opportunity to take some photos with the intention to capture more than what was in front of the lens without causing the stir that erupts whenever a camera is pulled out in the street. The two of us must have looked more than a bit strange, and here comes the reoccurring theme of something being a little askew; we were two grown men in a children’s theme park occupied only by a couple dozen staff members and a half dozen young Bengali couples sitting on benches in the shade whispering Tagore into each others’ ears. (Okay, I added the Tagore for romantic effect). Smiles were pasted on our faces as we revelled in the nostalgia created by the arcade filled with the best games of the 80s, and as I enjoyed the feeling of being a kid in a candy store with my camera, the wealth of worthy shots and the fun of hunting each of them down. As for the ride that was to receive each of our tokens, it wasn’t a hard choice. Most of the attractions were either too flat, too small for anyone over four feet tall…or too broken. We waited until the schedule departure time for our tilted Ferris-wheel type contraption had come around (it ran only every twenty minutes for about two minutes at a time), and thoroughly enjoyed the all too brief circular helicopter journey it gave us. I had to sit in the car immediately opposite Marc’s in order to keep the ride balanced…but I wasn’t worried. I had seen it operate properly once before. The unnecessary portion of the park was also the least amusing – the miniature zoo they had setup within a safari-themed stroll you can take at your own leisure. The tigers and elephants were plastic, but the four monkeys were real. One was caged in an enclosure no greater than a meter long and half a meter deep; another was chained to the ground by a foot long metal leash; a third was only a baby; and the fourth and largest seemed to have free reign in the enclosure, eating its palm leaf and taking the occasional swipe at curious onlookers and my camera if either got too close. Needless to say we left that ‘exhibit’ rather quickly, but it wasn’t so bad to discolour my overall experience at this time-warp of an amusement park.
The afternoon was rolling on and it was time for lunch. We both agreed that we wanted to keep Chinese and Bengali cuisine as far away from us as possible, and seeing as how the Wimpy Burger was back where we began our expedition, the nearby Pizza Hut was a hands-down winner. The pieces were only half the size of North American slices, the crust wasn’t thin and the coffee was only instant Nescafe …but it was the best meal I’ve had all week.
Before catching a local fishing demonstration and hopping into a green CNG for the ride home we managed to find Westecs, a store recommended to us by our CIDA Country Resource Person during training in Ottawa. While the dress clothes on the main floor are still relatively cheap (dress pants for 950 taka – less than $20), they weren’t quite what I expected from her description of extra cheap clothing. Luckily Marc took the time to walk up to the fourth floor and discover what she had told us about: clothing that is shipped to Western markets but remains at wholesale prices, and in Bangladesh that means 250 taka ($5 CAD) for shirts and 350-450 taka for pants. I picked up two H&M shirts and a great pair of light cargo pants for 850 taka – still ten dollars less than the price I paid for a single H&M shirt in New York City – and a birthday present to myself.
My birthday cake this year was a sweet loaf from the bakery downstairs which I finished after a light dinner of Cup Noodles in my room which miraculously doubled in size today as I was shifted out of my original one due to an air-conditioning malfunction. The only other birthday gift I would have liked would have been the chance to talk to my family over the phone for the first time since I’ve arrived. I couldn’t find a calling card today, most likely because many of the stores were closed, and all the other cards I came across were for pay-as-you-go cell phones. I can’t even communicate over MSN today because our hotel internet connection is down, but I shouldn’t complain – it’s been a good day. I wonder where I’ll be celebrating number 23…
Marc and I decided to spend the day exploring Gulshan and Baridhara on foot; one because only I had seen a small section of it before; two because it was a nice day and relatively cool; and three…well, I wanted a little taste of the West on my birthday. The car that was available to take us up there the day, for a reason I can’t explain for the life of me, it was a supped-up Acura, complete with gigantic spoiler and subwoofer. In a way it characterized the places we were to visit and food we were to eat throughout the day – it brought a thought to your mind that something was just a little askew. But hey, we rode with it and enjoyed the massage of the bass as we sat comfortably in the air-conditioned back seat as Shawn Paul did his thing on the stereo.
Almost immediately after getting out of the car and successfully communicating with our driver and friend from the office that we wouldn’t need a ride home and would be taking a CNG Taxi (the little green ones), I saw the glass doors of a gelato shop and decided my lunch would consist of an ice-cream sundae: one scoop each of vanilla and pistachio ice cream covered in chunks of chocolate and sauce. Nutritious, isn’t it? Feeling satisfied and ready to get started on the real walking, we headed eastwards along Kamal Ataturk Avenue towards the DIT II traffic circle in Gulshan. Usually it’s teeming with traffic, but on this Friday morning it was quiet, as expected. Using my trusty Lonely Planet book as a guide, we headed into the quiet streets surrounding the commercial area where most of the High Commissions are located. The streets themselves are in good shape, as are most of the British-colonial and very tropical looking High Commissions, but the actual layout is a bit of a headache; Road 35 was intersected by Roads 38, 39, 45, 47 and 48…but not in that order. You get the idea. Eventually I asked a British-sounding man where we could find the Canadian HC, and it ended up being just around the corner from where we were.
Unfortunately you’re not allowed to take pictures of the compound, (and the five guards outside would certainly have followed up on the answer I received when I asked said question), but it wasn’t anything special from the outside anyways. A two-storey red brick building with a long driveway filled with five SUVs, with a small guard post out front. The most interesting feature had to be the permanently installed queue for visa applicants resembling one you might find outside a small amusement park ride. The High Commission was closed today but it gave me an idea of just how many applications they receive on a regular basis. It seems as though anyone with knowledge of the outside world wants to come to Canada, and I wish we could welcome them all…but that’s an issue for another post. Not yet feeling hungry for a substantial meal to make up for our ice-cream lunch, we left the HC and headed south down Gulshan Avenue to see what was to be seen. We had barely been walking five minutes before we found the entrance to the ‘Wonderland Amusement Park’. Faster than you can say, “wouldn’t an amusement park in the 3rd world be a bit sketchy?” we were in with the full intention to use the free ride token that came with our 50 taka (~$1 CAD) admission.
Now, it was Friday, so I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. But the first thing that sprang into my mind after walking through the front gate was that the park resembled more of a post-apocalyptic miniature Disneyland than a bustling fantasy park worthy to carry the word ‘amusement’ in its title. But that only gave it more charm. It also gave me a great opportunity to take some photos with the intention to capture more than what was in front of the lens without causing the stir that erupts whenever a camera is pulled out in the street. The two of us must have looked more than a bit strange, and here comes the reoccurring theme of something being a little askew; we were two grown men in a children’s theme park occupied only by a couple dozen staff members and a half dozen young Bengali couples sitting on benches in the shade whispering Tagore into each others’ ears. (Okay, I added the Tagore for romantic effect). Smiles were pasted on our faces as we revelled in the nostalgia created by the arcade filled with the best games of the 80s, and as I enjoyed the feeling of being a kid in a candy store with my camera, the wealth of worthy shots and the fun of hunting each of them down. As for the ride that was to receive each of our tokens, it wasn’t a hard choice. Most of the attractions were either too flat, too small for anyone over four feet tall…or too broken. We waited until the schedule departure time for our tilted Ferris-wheel type contraption had come around (it ran only every twenty minutes for about two minutes at a time), and thoroughly enjoyed the all too brief circular helicopter journey it gave us. I had to sit in the car immediately opposite Marc’s in order to keep the ride balanced…but I wasn’t worried. I had seen it operate properly once before. The unnecessary portion of the park was also the least amusing – the miniature zoo they had setup within a safari-themed stroll you can take at your own leisure. The tigers and elephants were plastic, but the four monkeys were real. One was caged in an enclosure no greater than a meter long and half a meter deep; another was chained to the ground by a foot long metal leash; a third was only a baby; and the fourth and largest seemed to have free reign in the enclosure, eating its palm leaf and taking the occasional swipe at curious onlookers and my camera if either got too close. Needless to say we left that ‘exhibit’ rather quickly, but it wasn’t so bad to discolour my overall experience at this time-warp of an amusement park.
The afternoon was rolling on and it was time for lunch. We both agreed that we wanted to keep Chinese and Bengali cuisine as far away from us as possible, and seeing as how the Wimpy Burger was back where we began our expedition, the nearby Pizza Hut was a hands-down winner. The pieces were only half the size of North American slices, the crust wasn’t thin and the coffee was only instant Nescafe …but it was the best meal I’ve had all week.
Before catching a local fishing demonstration and hopping into a green CNG for the ride home we managed to find Westecs, a store recommended to us by our CIDA Country Resource Person during training in Ottawa. While the dress clothes on the main floor are still relatively cheap (dress pants for 950 taka – less than $20), they weren’t quite what I expected from her description of extra cheap clothing. Luckily Marc took the time to walk up to the fourth floor and discover what she had told us about: clothing that is shipped to Western markets but remains at wholesale prices, and in Bangladesh that means 250 taka ($5 CAD) for shirts and 350-450 taka for pants. I picked up two H&M shirts and a great pair of light cargo pants for 850 taka – still ten dollars less than the price I paid for a single H&M shirt in New York City – and a birthday present to myself.
My birthday cake this year was a sweet loaf from the bakery downstairs which I finished after a light dinner of Cup Noodles in my room which miraculously doubled in size today as I was shifted out of my original one due to an air-conditioning malfunction. The only other birthday gift I would have liked would have been the chance to talk to my family over the phone for the first time since I’ve arrived. I couldn’t find a calling card today, most likely because many of the stores were closed, and all the other cards I came across were for pay-as-you-go cell phones. I can’t even communicate over MSN today because our hotel internet connection is down, but I shouldn’t complain – it’s been a good day. I wonder where I’ll be celebrating number 23…
posted by Per at 2:16 a.m.
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