I bought 7-Up at the market

Oh 7-Up. I love you from the top of your spritzing neck to the bottom of your dewy, curvy, bottom. Your angelic bubbles surface when I pour you into my tall glass. You are cold on my fingertips. And when I drink, you warm my soul.

At the Zoo

I woke up this morning at 3 am to loud Arabic prayers and dogs howling and barking. Seriously one of the most frightening combinations of noises. The prayers echoed so loud it sounded like I was in a cave. They got louder and louder, circling up through the trees sounding almost like ghosts that were strangling dogs. I didn’t go to sleep back to sleep for a few hours.

So I know I’m supposed to be on bed rest, but I decided to go to the Zoo. (Mom if you protest I won’t let you read my blog anymore.) I went with Bulbul and Brian. The walk was long and filled with men, young and old, shouting out to Brian. “Hello! What country?”

The zoo itself was heartbreaking. Lions that barely had enough room to turn around. Hippo that was in a filthy pond and monkeys sitting on concrete with nothing to play with.

As we soon realized, we were more of a spectacle than the animals. A large crowd started following us and asking to take our picture. We should have carried a species sign: “Human species of white distinction dragged from their natural habitat of Natty Bos and Netflix in the distant country Baltimore.”

We found an amazing playground with a ferris wheel. We all got on it and made a larger scene. The very nice men who offered to help us on the ride asked us for money for their service on the way out.

Reza, one of the men working in IT with Brian, took us all out to dinner. We ate at a dark Thai and Chinese Restaurant. When we ordered sweet and sour chicken the waiter asked us “sweet or sour?”

Work is going slow but that’s to be expected in this molasses country. I'm learning a lot from just being.

Blessed are ye that weep now for ye shall laugh

Anger is quick in this office. People get so mad and furious, red and shaking.

Sadness is deep on the streets. Like the woman I heard wailing outside the market and the untold sadness in the orphan’s eye.

I often try to blink and swallow all this away. But it feels good to shudder and let it pass through.

Bedrest in Bangladesh

I got into the back of the ambulance and was told to lay down on the gurney. An extreme exaggeration but my muscle relaxants were making me loopy so I complied. Let me tell you. Bangladesh, from the back of an ambulance, while tripping on muscle relaxants, is craaaaazzzzy.

I was escorted by 5 men including Brian. We sat in the waiting room for two hours. Brian and I tried to amuse ourselves sketching people and playing on his iPhone. I was a little too amused at everything in general.

There was a crying baby in front of us who was extremely malnourished. Her head was propped up because her stick body couldn’t support it. She was crying but not with any strength. It sounded painful.

I was led into the neurologist’s office and there were 10 people in there staring at me and waiting for their turn. So much for patient confidentiality. They told me to raise my arms. “Higher, higher, raise them!” they yelled. I was in a lot of pain. “I KNOW I CAN’T!” Sheesh.

I told them the doctor in the US diagnosed me with a herniated disk. The doctor laughed at me and the US. I went for x-rays (which I plan on hanging up as wall art) and the doctor believes me to have a pinched nerve that has been exacerbated and has spread to restricted movement in the top half of my body (arms, jaw, throat, back and neck.) He gave me a bunch of Bangladeshi medication, and told me to take those instead of the US medication. I am ordered to bed rest for seven days.

Of course I researched them all. Interesting one of the pills is actually a psychoanaleptic used as an anti-depressant and mild sedative. I will not be taking this drug.

So here I am. Feeling loopy in rural Bangladesh, confined to the bed for seven days. I have a circle around me of my book, my work, Bengali workbook, and guitar. Although just looking at my hands is amusing these days.

Asalam Walaikum,

Chelsea

There is Something Living in my AC but I'm Too Scared to Check

I hate shopping. I wish everything could be ordered from the internet. But I needed some more clothes. So Zangit took me to a few shops in Rangpur. Shops here are the size of window displays, with no outer wall. You lean in, scream what you want at the man with the fabric and hope he heard you.

I could either design Salwars myself with my choice of fabrics or pick out ready-made ones. Obviously I picked out 2 ready-made ones. Zangit made fun of me because they look very similar. But I love them. Olive and simple with a dupata (scarf) that is sheer and light.

I bought a back warming pad from a small surgical supply store. All of their equipment had celebrities photo shopped wearing them. Someone needs to tell Jenny.

The pain in my back has gotten progressively worse from all the motorcycle riding, traveling and bumpy roads. It has spread to my neck, jaw, throat and when I woke up this morning I couldn’t lift my arms. This happened in the US too and then got better when I stayed still for a few days. Dr. Bubul thought I should stay in Rangpur to see a physician instead of heading back with the crew to Gaibandha. So I’m here, for three days. It’s kind of claustrophobic but I really need to stay still so it’s a good place.

Asalam Walaikum,

Chelsea