Oversaturation

If there’s a maximum number of hours one should spend staring at a computer screen in a two-week period, I have probably already passed it. This tells me a few things: my laptop is indispensable; grad school and scholarship applications are too darned complicated; and I’d be up a creek without a paddle if I didn’t have an internet connection in my room.

Most of my time at the computer has been spent laying out the inaugural edition of the revised Article 14, my organization’s English language health and human rights newsletter, but I’ve also begun the process of filling out a funding application package for the European Commission – something else that’s guaranteed to increase Per-Laptop one on one time. And that’s only at the office.

After returning home from the office (without leaving the building) either I go through my “alternative fitness program” or fix a snack with whatever food I’m likely to find in the fridge or pantry. The former and more active activity consists of a few sets of pushups and sit-ups in my room, followed by two to four flights up and down the fifteen stories separating my apartment from the ground floor. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating; I’ve only done three flights in one go, but I’m shooting for four next time. Either way, it’s not long before I’ve plugged my computer back into its adapter in the wall and reinitiate my never-ending quest for information on graduate programs and potential sources of funding. With three institutions in BC, two in Ontario and one each in the UK and Switzerland, I get to sample the world’s wealth of web designs and PDF documents all from the comfort of my Dhaka city desk chair. Here’s where the dependence on a semi-reliable internet connection comes in to play. More than half of the applications I’m in the process of filling out are online, and without access to a North American postal service I rely on email to coordinate reference letter requests, ask for advice from various circles and exchange other bits of important information in “real time”, as they say. Needless to say, I’ve been attached to my computer like a doctor to his stethoscope.

Fortunately, my daily overdose of Inspiron (the model of my computer, not an intravenous drug) has been counterbalanced by the good news that has been coming down the pipe over the past few days. Most importantly, I’m no longer working and residing in the country without authorization, or ‘illegally’, as some may put it. On October 18^th the kind folks at the Immigration and Visa office sent letters to the Canadian High Commission indicating an approval of the “foreign nationals’” request for a visa extension until February 28^th, 2005. Hallelujah. Marc and I had a small wager going, well, not a wager, more of a ‘gentleman’s bet’ to see who could guess when our visas would be approved. While Marc’s firm believe in the incompetence of the local bureaucracy led him to predict November 1^st, I felt as though 22 days would be plenty of time and gave them until October 20th. Unfortunately, I made the fatal error that is guaranteed to scuttle even the most determined quasi-gambler’s plans for glory: not publicly declaring the bet. Oh well, I can still be silently pleased with my precision. Onwards.

Speaking of the High Commission, we finally got around to acquiring the letter of approval needed in order to become temporary members of the Canadian Club up in Gulshan. Not only are they valid until the end of February, but we get to pay “intern” rates as well. I’m not sure what those are, exactly, but they’re certainly less expensive than regular fees charged to diplomats making real, diplomatic salaries. It also sounds like there’s a large contingent of young Canadian interns, most of whom work for BRAC. Apparently there was a big party at the Club on Friday, and they even had a live “rock band”. I’ll be heading up on Friday for some much needed R&R – a swim in their outdoor pool, a few kilometers on their erg machine, a read through some Canadian magazines and perhaps even some writing – a change of location always brings out new ideas and refreshes the mind.

But so does an Iftar party with forty colleagues from the office, such as the one we had this evening and which commenced the moment we heard the evening prayer coming from the speakers of the mosque next door. Both the taste and the variety of the food was astounding; puffed rice, dates, chicken patties, apples, bananas, rich beef soup and excellent sweets. Usually the iftar meal is done with family and close friends, but since our office refers to itself as a family, an event like this isn’t very surprising and is certainly very welcome. I can only imagine how good the food must taste after having fasted since 4am…but I don’t think I’m dedicated enough to see for myself.