The ”Real” Bangladesh?

The grass is always greener and all that. I feel the need to articulate for myself (and, subsequently, you) the pros and cons of city and village life, so that next time I need a reality check, it’s right here in black and white.

I love Dhaka because…
Many of my friends are there.
I can “webcam it up” with my family and friends back home.
It’s crazy, and you need that sometimes.
It’s crazy, but I can escape.
I feel a sense of achievement after successfully reaching any destination, no matter how far or by what means of transport.
I can have a drink!
Mango Café lives there.
There are good places to eat out, as well as good bread to buy.
I can talk to strangers in Bangla, and it makes them happy.


I don’t like Dhaka because…
I’m just another bideshi.
My snot is black by the end of the day.
The rickshawallahs try to rip me off. (But I still love them anyway.)
I am challenged 24 hours a day by the inequalities that exist in our world.

I love my village because…
I’m THE bideshi.
Coming home is like riding into paradise.
I learn things like: Even little cows sound like grown up cows when they moo.
The kids call me “Aunty”.
I’m getting to know everyone, even the rickshawallahs.
I can “take rest” pretty much whenever I need to.
I am learning Bangla quickly.
People go out for afternoon strolls.
I know that if I don’t feel like being sociable, if I push through the barrier, they often make the most memorable experiences, like getting a joke in Bangla for the first time EVER and being able to laugh alongside the locals.
It challenges me just enough to learn from it, but not so much that I want to give up.

I don’t like my village because…
I’m the ONLY bideshi.
Silly teenage girls giggle behind my back (I know they mean no harm – it just annoys me.)
People mistake my personal space for their own.
Cheese and chocolate are not available.