The last few months.

A lot has happened in the last few months. First of all, I started a new job. I am now working as a Gender Consultant for GTZ (the German development agency whose name I can neither write nor pronounce) on a governance and infrastructure project in a number of municipalities of Bangladesh. My job is basically to try to make sure that the project effectively enables women to participate in local governance, and that the infrastructure that will be built with funds from the project takes into account women’s needs, as well as men’s.

I’ve learned an enormous amount about gender, local governance, infrastructure and urban poverty in general. All of it has been fascinating. I know people roll their eyes when they hear anyone talking about ‘gender’ but it really is amazing to understand what an important issue it is in a country like Bangladesh. Women especially are expected to interact directly with vital infrastructure and services such as water supply, sanitation, waste disposal, etc, and yet they have no voice when it comes to establishing priorities for infrastructure investment, design or management. Similarly, urban poverty is an extremely complex beast that cannot be understood in the simple terms of how much one earns or eats. I have loved learning more about these issues.

In my work I have lots of highs and lows. Days when what I learn and experience is extremely motivating and I feel thankful to be doing the work I do. Others when I come up against seemingly insurmountable obstacles in the form of people, organizations, lack of time and resources, and am left feeling hopeless if not entirely useless.

Luckily, I work with a great team at GTZ who make each day enjoyable. It’s incredible what a difference having bright, motivated, creative and enjoyable peers can make.

When I’m not working, which is not as often as I would like, I continue my not-so-secret love-hate affair with Bangladesh. My eternally temporary situation here makes it impossible for me not to want to spend every minute exploring, doing, seeing, listening, touching, tasting and yes, even smelling.

Dhaka, normally a cultural black hole, hosted a renowned sarod (a stringed instrument of Indian classical music) player last month and I was lucky enough to attend with one of my colleagues. I didn’t really know what I was in for, other than a good excuse to wrap myself up in a sari, but I was pleasantly surprised. Amjad Ali Khan is the world’s foremost sarod player and despite hailing from Bangladesh’s big neighbour to the west (and north, and east) it was his first performance in the country. To those in the know, he disappointed, but to me, he far exceeded expectations. The music was so incredible that I spent much of the concert with my eyes closed just taking it all in. At one point, he demonstrated how the sarod could ‘sing’ by humming deep, rich melodies and then repeating them on the strings (that he plays with his fingernails, which require filing after every raga!). It gave me shivers. And the tabla players accompanying him worked absolute magic with their fingers. I officially began a love affair with Indian classical music that night and I think it’s one that might actually last!

I’ve been trying to get out biking on Saturdays whenever time and hangovers permit. We cover the same ground each week, a rural area to the north east of Dhaka, but each ride is its own little adventure of wobbly bamboo bridges, treacherous river crossings on semi-submerged boats, precarious floating islands of water hyacinth, coconut breaks, smiling faces and "hAllo how are you"s. On one ride last month we came across a Hindu festival that we were invited to take part in (including having mud wiped all over my face..) and a few weeks ago the water was ablaze with vibrant pink water lilies.

I’ve also been on one (unfortunately only one) weekend trip. A friend of mine organized a cruise on an incredible wooden sailing barge. Owned by a French-Bangladeshi couple, it is named the B613 because they consider it a world of its own orbiting somewhere near the Le Petit Prince’s B612. And an incredible little world it is. There is nothing quite as relaxing as floating along on a few hundred square feet of wood and bamboo, watching the world go by. We traveled up the Jamuna river into the ‘chars’ area, where populations move on and off of different char islands as the river continuously recreates its landscape. We toured a few villages to see boats being built by hand in what is considered a dying trade. I also got to tour a brick factory, something I’ve always wanted to see up close. The kiln was off, so I was able to poke around inside and even stand under the enormous smoke stack.

The evening we spent on the boat was peaceful and starry. I couldn’t help but take a few deep breaths and wonder how I ever ended up living such an incredibly privileged life.

I have been on one other trip, although it was outside my beloved Bangladesh, in my beloved India! My roommates, Libby and Parendi, were planning to visit Varanasi for Deepavali, the Hindu festival of light, so I tagged along. Situated on the west bank of the Ganges, Varanasi is one of the most sacred sites for Hindus, and also one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. It is certainly an amazing place. We spent most of our time between the ghats, where people go down into the river to bathe, and the gullies, an old labyrinth of streets that now make up one of the city’s most important shopping areas. We also got to visit some friends of Libby’s from the year she spent there during University, and her knowledge of the city (and of Hindi) led us to the most incredible food imaginable and to a silk vendor that put a fairly significant hole in my wallet.

On the night of Deepawali a friend arranged a boat for us and we paddled down the river, dancing among the fleets of boats, admiring the flicker of a million candles lighting up the ghats and the water around us. Manikarnik ghat, or burning ghat, where the bodies of Hindus (many of whom come to Varanasi to die) are cremated and their ashes put into the holiest of rivers, had a particularly haunting, smoky atmosphere that felt both sad and beautiful. After a lovely tour, we de-boarded at the main ghat to watch agni puja, the worship of fire performed in unison by ten brahmans with tiered oil lamps, among hundreds of thousands of pilgrims. It was a magical night.

Biman Bangladesh had cancelled our flight back to Dhaka even before we left Dhaka, so on the way home, after a slightly cockroach-infested and unsurprisingly comical train ride, we spent a night in Calcutta. Parendi has friends there who took us into their incredible home and instructured their army of cooks, cleaners and drivers to pamper us all day long. We escaped in the afternoon to explore New Market, drink some of the world’s best street tea, munch on a greasy hot khati roll, and take in an excellent Hungarian film at the Kolkata International Film Festival. That night, after dinner with ‘Auntie’, who kept giving us chocolate and freshly baked goodies to take to Bangladesh with us, we went out dancing at a night club! For three girls who live in Dhaka, this was an unspeakably fantastic event, despite the fact that none of the boys busting out Bollywood moves on the dance floor seemed to want to dance with us...

On the flight home, an attendant made her way down the aisle, between the straight-out-of-the-sixties seats, to offer water. Libby woke up later, thirsty and annoyed to have slept through her one chance at rehydration. It was a blessing in disguise, as both Parendi and I ended up being sick for the next four days. But ultimately, that’s what I love about life here: it’s full of surprises, some good and some not so good…