Munshigonj

That's where I am right now--it's a town a couple of hours away from where I'm currently living. I'm visiting another PC volunteer, as part of training. I'm here for 4 days seeing what he does and doesn't do in his town.

On the back of a lighter I just bought for lighting candles, the warning label says (verbatim):

Announcements:
1. Keep from the childs play with fire.
2. The product is under dox, Keep from hight temperture.
3. Exurpale the fire ofter use. Don't take as fire in use and when you might be used up the gas.
4. Couldn't aftercontlution the product.
Made in Myanmar

. . . They were right. I tried aftercontlutioning the product myself - no dice. I tried burping and exhaling while impaling myself in compliance with rule #3, but after several tries and perforated gall bladder, I gave that up too.

By the way, for anyone curious, the loquacious MJ is Michael, a friend from Improv Olympic in Chicago. He's crazy (in that he's written speeches for Tipper Gore, lives in New York and works in LA, and has a thick Korean accent).

So apparently an essential part of a PCV's day is having tea about 6 or 7 times with various people from the community. It's part of your job. People want to have tea with you sort of like they want a turn with the bowling trophy. They all ask the same 5 questions and are always really excited to see you. But I can also see how this country will grate on a person of Western descent. People stare constantly. Sure, it's a novelty for about 3 days. But after months and years of this, I guess it becomes hard to take. The PCV I visit often copes by making snide comments in quick, American English to sort of let off steam. E.g.: After the 87th time yesterday of being called "ali baba" (which in that context means a rich person who got rich through ill means), or being asked who the President is even though they all know the answer and know that he knows the answer, he'd let off with something like, "Yeah, you're an idiot" and walk away. Naturally, there's harassment and some inherent danger too; some PCV's leave (Early Termination, or ET), and some end up spending a big amount of their time locked in their apartments. I'm trying to slowly build up my tolerance for stares and annoying people and lack of privacy.

The computers here are super-slow, by the way. I get an hour to do whatever, and lots of times that's not enough time to do much. So be patient with me. I'm a tender little flower.

For crying out loud, they don't even speak ENGLISH!

Due to the flood of letters and calls that I should have received, I feel compelled to let you all know that I have not been blown up in the recent bombings here in Bangladesh. The bombs were small, handheld things deployed by a Muslim group and were a political statement. Some of them had leaflets which they scattered. I think 2 people died, which actually probably means that no one was supposed to die. So it's not a huge deal for us.

Now the malaria medication. Now that's a trip. It gives you these vivid dreams that don't quit. Last night I was Brad Pitt in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Glad to see I'm acclimating to the new environment. They also have 4 ways to say the letter "T", all of which can be easily confused with the 4 ways to say the letter "D".

Everything has cumin in it here. I actually just had a cookie with cumin in it. But the food is actually quite good. You have rice with every meal, of course, and when no one's looking I use my left hand. It's also somewhat unnerving the way people watch you eat. As a white person you're a celebrity, and so they feed you and then watch you eat. Last night an "uncle" of some sort literally leaned over me with his head about 5 inches from mine during my entire meal. They also comment about how bad I suck at using my hand while eating. They think I can't hear them. And I can't. BUT sometimes I can. And it hurts. No, it doesn't.

My host family always asks if I miss my family. Here, you always stay with your family and you cry if they're apart from you for like a week. I guess that's a good thing.

I now officially hate the expression "cultural differences." Hate it. Hhhhhaaaaate it. Can't tell you how much I hate it.

Must go now.