Going to Work

I took a video going to work in Gaibandha. The video starts out with me climbing over construction outside the house and getting a rickshaw. The video takes place on a rickshaw so the video is a bit choppy and bumpy but you can still see the "Main Street" of Gaibandha.

Thanksgiving in Rangpur

Thanksgiving morning. I called my mom and sister in Key West to wish them a happy Thanksgiving. I was on the iphone on video phone and said hi to all of my relatives.

“We miss you Chelsea! We love you Chelsea! Come here and taste the turkey.” The phone was dipped down and a piece of turkey brought to the video camera. “Can you smell it?” Fiona, my 13 year old sister, kept showing me our dog. “Fiona, I really don’t care about the dog! Keep showing me the people!!” Ladles were brought up to the camera and the camera was put in all sorts of plates. I had to fight back tears and sound all cheery-like. Nothing worse than someone crying before the cocktails.

A trillion miles away, I started my thanksgiving bright and early. I would make: 3 roast chickens dressed with rosemary, lime juice, and sautéed garlic and onions, Garlic mashed potatoes, stuffing made with bread and lime juice and garlic and onions, Green beans and chinese mushrooms sautéed in soy sauce and lime juice, Roasted pumpkin with nutmeg and cinnamon. I would cook all of this with two gas burners, a microwave and a toaster oven.

You know what’s not so hard? Cooking a Thanksgiving meal with staff. I had two other cooks working with me to prepare the meal. Jahangir cooked other dishes, dhal and rice, goat curry, coconut egg curry. Lovely helped me cut garlic and mash potatoes with the bottom of a cup.

The kitchen smelt amazing. I set up my music, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday, to create the perfect air of a casual 50’s thanksgiving. I lit candles on the table and the balcony, and people started to arrive.

Around 25 people showed. Drivers, cooks, children, cleaners, students and senior management staff set down at the long table and ate together.

Everyone brought flowers and mishti (sweets) and we got tipsy off of coca-cola.

I went into the kitchen and Lovely and Rani attacked me with a bag of glitter. Rubbing it into my neck and face they said “Happy Birthday” over and over. Then they took me out to a hallway where they had candles lit all over the floor.

Rani crouched down to me, picked up a candle, and held it under me circling her arm. “Ooooo.” Her voice was deep and scary. She was scaring the evil spirits away from me so I would have a positive year. It was more comforting than eerie. The Muslim prayers rose up from the night and I, for the millionth time this year wondered,

“Where am I?”

I received a lot of presents from everyone. Lovely gave me a clock shaped like a couple dancing, the drivers gave me a copper bowl engraved with “Happy Birthday Chelsea,” Jahangir gave me henna and a baby Barbie doll on a horse that wound up and moved (!!! BEST 23rd BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER), and my roommates bought me a mug and a shirt.

At the end of the night, we gave everyone food to take home, made the guards delicious plates, and cleaned up the kitchen. Shefa and I settled down into cups of tea in the conference room and worked on our important presentation for USAID the following week. It was fun. Work is always more fun than school. We quibbled over bullets and margins. Made proclamations about fonts. And at 2am called it a night.

I am thankful.

Asalam Walaikum,
Chelsea

What did you do when you were 22?

I had a hard week. There was emotional drama, physical drama, and I was ready to call the whole thing off and run away to Rangpur for the weekend. I got into the back seat of the van and we head up. It was dark and no one in the front could see me back there. The windows were cracked open and the Bangladeshi air rushed into my seat. In such situations there is really only one course of action. I put on my headphones, turned on Beyonce, and rocked out, in silence, all the way to Rangpur.

When I got there, Shefa and Neelu were ready to party. They had bought chips, coke and Sprite and we were ready to dance. We played music videos in the conference room on the projector and danced full out.

At around 11pm Shefa had the idea to go up onto the roof to look at the stars. It was chilly and chillier when we lay down on the concrete floor. But who needs physical comfort when you have the Bangladeshi stars?

“So how was 22?” Shefa asked.

It was the year I started at Hopkins. Johns Hopkins. My dream school and what I had worked hard to reach for 21 years. It was the year I had a hard time dealing with my parent’s divorce and all the rippling it entailed. I met some absolutely amazing people. They will be with me for the rest of my life. And the friends already in my life proved to be larger than life. I dated a zookeeper, I learned how to play the guitar, and I went to Israel.

And now I was turning 23, on the roof, under the stars, in Bangladesh.

As it turned midnight, Neelu, Bulbul and Saijudin came up the stairs with a birthday cake lit with candles. It said “Happy Birthday, Chelsea! Khub Bahlo!” They put“Khub Bahlo” on the cake because it is my favorite phrase here (mainly because it’s one of the few phrases I know how to say) and it means “very good.”

I cried a little bit because I’m a cryer and blew out the candles.

I wished for a year as exciting and filled with love as the last.

Asalam Walaikum,

Chelsea

Day In and Day Out

My turtle project is still rolling around on some desk in Dhaka. It’s rolling now, because it’s become such a large ball of paperwork tied together with red tape. It’s disgusting.

Howeverwho, I have loaded my time with other projects from Jiva. I’m working on an advocacy campaign which includes: website creation, maintenance and design, creation of the Jiva journal and the news briefs and research summaries that goes into it, and real-time archiving. I am on several working groups, and am writing two papers. Not to mention trying to crank out my master’s thesis so I can stop paying for tuition. (That’s how they get you!)

All in all my life tastes like a ripe papaya spritzed with lime juice. I’ve started doing P90X, continuing my goal to become a beefcake. I’ve started meditating which is right on schedule for my 5 month spiritual crisis (lasts for 3 days and then I get back to watching Arrested Development at night).

I signed up for Ok Cupid (A dating website) in Bangladesh. The responses I am getting could be a book of their own.

Ok Cupid in America: "Yo baby you fine. Hit me up."

Ok Cupid in Bangladesh: "Are you the Aryan princess destined to restore the glory of the Arya to the subcontinent? The Vedas did not foretell of this but by God I see it in you!"

True story.

And I'm just trying, every day, to live my life here, and not just bide time here.

Asalam Walaikum,

Chelsea

The Secret

I have discovered the secret to living in Bangladesh. Have Rani come over to your house on a Saturday afternoon. You will lie down on a soft towel and she will make a homemade concoction of deliciousness in a bowl. Then, for an hour, she will massage your back with the sweetest oils and the softest hands. For $2.

Love

The Most wonderful friends, Clarke Saylor and Meagan Petri sent me a package filled with love. Capri Suns, Cheez Its, quick read, glow bracelets, a puzzle (which I wanted so bad and couldn't find in Bangladesh!) and dinosaur capsules (yes Meagan I'll show the village children and make them think I have magic powers). Then they heard I lost my music and kindle and loaded up music, movies, audiobooks, comics and Photoshop onto a hard drive. This is unbelievable guys. You are unbelievable.

Nepal: Last Day

Last day waking up to the mountains. From now on it would be a steady climb down back to Pohkara. My guide asked me if I wanted to take the 2 scheduled days to go down the mountain or to cut it down to one. I voted for one day and raced down the mountain. We ran through the jungle, jumping across brooks and across rickety bamboo bridges. I felt like Fern Gully.

But the sun was beating and I started to feel woozy. The stone steps flew past my face as I ran down the mountain feeling like I was in a dream. The steps became deeper and my legs started to wobble. An old woman was in the path ahead of me and saw me struggle. She went into the house and got me a walking stick.

My guide told me that she was heading in the same direction as we were and I begged her to join us. Her face was deeply creased but her smile was big. She stopped at all women in the streets selling oranges to buy some and share with us. She peeled my orange for me giving me the insides as we walked. I found out she was 72 and could fly down the mountain faster than me. She was visiting her daughter and grandson in Kathmandu and told me that I had to come stay with her. I refused but bought her lunch and a few candy bars.

I had to say goodbye to her when I got in the car to Pohkra. But damn, what an impression.

I hobbled around Pohkra trying to find presents for my family. I decided to treat myself at a romantic candle lit café. I ordered a glass of red wine, a steak the size of my head, a side of hummus, and a big thick slice of black cake. It was a meal to end all meals.

Last day in Kathmandu I ran around getting last minute presents. I was cold, wet, smelled unfortunate and my hair and caked together in a really attractive knot. On the flight back to Dhaka (which was delayed 7 hours), I made friends with a woman who told me she could talk to horses, a man who may be my future employer, and got lost in a sea of white gowns—men coming back from Mecca for their hajj.

Now I am comfortably back at home, in Bangladesh, swarmed with work and clean dry clothes. Thanks for tuning in for my vacation! Next up: China!

Namaste,

Chelsea