Rickshaw rides: check

it's 7 am in Dhaka and I wake to roosters. Do you know another city of 14 million where that would happen? From my bathroom window I hear construction workers readying heavy equipment while singing Bengali tunes. Lots of construction in this ever growing city. We got back in Dhaka two nights ago after a week long adventure in Cox's Bazar and Chittagong. We saw many schools and even got to assist with the lottery admission at a village school tucked down a long dirt road in Chittagong. My chittagong host, Khan, is a baker - I had the best cha at his elegant and comfortable apartment; thought I died and went to heaven when he busted out a tray of exquisite cakes with evening tea.

Yesterday my beautiful host mother Asma took us to Democracy Watch, which works for social justice and against election fraud. We met yet more of the impressive 20 and 30 somethings here in Bangladesh - they are activated and passioned.
Our Cox's Bazar hosts were a group of several rototactors (under 30). So much energy in the Bazar. So much heart, vitality ... And plenty of trash. The beach was clean and gorgeous but the town surrounding it was a bit rough on all of us, with in-your-face street kids (will sing for 10 taka) and half-clothed people rolling on the sides of dusty streets strewn with trash. And yet, my memories are of the people we met, from Rotarian president Mahfouz (sure I'm spelling that wrong), an award-winning shrimp farmer, to our primary guide Moji, an accomplished 24-year old Rotaractor. We got our rickshaw rides in there - the preferred method of transport. And my memories of those rides are of sunshine and wind and motion as the rickshaw drivers
dodged trucks and pedestrians. It's amazing how even the most intense squalor starts to seem bearable from the seat of a racing rickshaw. Bangladesh is definitely a land of light and dark, and when I stop placing value judgements on the extremes of it all, my exprience becomes richer.

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andrea barkan
805 - 815 - 9876