Pizza Hut South Asian Style

Walking into the South Asian Pizza Hut was a very interesting experience. Pizza Hut is considered to be one of the most glamorous restaurants in South Asia. In fact the one in Bangladesh happens to be the largest one in South Asia. I remember at ten going to Pizza Hut in the states,. I'd simply order my food to go to eat at home. The Pizza Hut in Bangladesh however does not have that "fast food" pace to it.

Upon my entrance, a guard opened the door, and a flute player greeted us with his music. With the impacts of globalization, I expected the food to have a syncretic feel to it. I wanted to see "chicken masala pizza" or naan sticks, yet the impact of soft power has hit South Asia full force with Pizza Hut. In fact, the pizza tastes as same as the food in the states.

There were many formalities involved. I sat down with my family, and we discussed what we were going to eat. It was huge deal. The waiters were very well dressed with their pizza hut outfits, and I had my menu in hand. We ended up ordering a "vegetarian pizza."

The food was mediocre...I managed to try and enjoy it. I kept thinking about the power of homogenization. It’s striking to see the influence of the west in the East. The funniest part of this experience was listening to Snoop, and Justin Timberlake. There was this artificial bubble created for the foreigners to adjust to the chaotic environment. It was a place to hide. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to hide. I know I didn’t fit in. But I enjoyed not fitting in. I saw lots of white people there. There was also Pizza Etiquette there. We had to eat with a fork and knife, and the waiter continuously came to our tables to make sure everything was okay. My waiter in particular was very happy to wear his Pizza Hut outfit.

We sat, ate, listened to the commercialized hiphop and left. Upon leaving the flute player continued to play his music. The streets were the same, and I was out of "the bubble." **Sigh**

Ancient Garden of a Bengali King

Today was a peaceful day. The rickshaw ride was fairly smooth (minus the heavy bumps on the road). I visited an ancient garden of a former Raja (king). Walking through the garden was splendid. What I found most amazing about this experience was visiting his grave. I set a few flowers from the garden on his grave to pay my respects. There were significant factors that interested me about this particular garden. First, the king’s name was a mixture of Hindu/Christian roots. I was immediately able to notice the colonial history behind this location. The tomb stone stood erect with a cross unlike Islamic tomb stones which rest on the ground. The setting was beautiful. I saw all kinds of plants that were only seen in Bangladesh. The soil was a bright reddish colors, and there were little ponds with lotus leaves all over the garden.

Many couples were spotted sitting shyly next to their significant other. In Bengali culture it is forbidden to be seen in public as a couple, so the Garden is a secret get away where couples could somewhat display their affection. I walked past maybe six different couples in a row. Each couple was different. Some were religious Muslims in traditional garb, and there were others in Indian clothes. The interaction between men and women are very different here compared to the USA. There is a bad association with being affectionate in public. This includes holding hands, hugging, or any form of touching, unless you are clenching for your life on the Rickshaw. I wanted to take a few pictures of these couples. But this was forbidden for their aim was to maintain their relations very private. I saw a couple hiding behind a huge tree, kissing. It was so cute. I felt bad for them. I believe a large reason for the perversion among the males here gawking their eyes ate women, is because of the restrictive culture. I also marked students and teachers of Botany studying the variety of plants existing in the Garden. Many of these plants are very old. I was honored to be part of such an ancient site. I was saddened to hear that the garden were surrounded by palaces, which have all been broken down :( I wish I could have seen what the palaces looked like. Walking through the garden, I was sure that the palaces had to be magnificent.

The Evening Rickshaw Ride

This evening was quite interesting to say the least. (the picture btw above has nothing to do with this entry, I simply uploaded it so I can portray some more beautiful sceneries out in Dhaka).
Today I went for a Rickshaw Ride, at 6pm just to catch the evening breeze and pollution of course. At this time the sun was setting. My heart was with the city. I felt cold, aware, and calm. I almost got hit by a bus again. It’s okay J I have become well acquainted with the unpredictability of the metropolis.

As I rode through the city I noticed that only men were spotted outside. Very few women come out at night. In the midst of all the men, I noticed some surreal situations that caught my eye. First I saw Sufis who had locks in their hairs, walking with huge canes, and dressed only white cloth walk slowly. I heard later that these Sufi men had a lot in common with Rastafarian’s…hint hint Ganja =). Later the Rickshawallah had to take a peepee, so we stopped in a weird location, and I noticed something VERY disturbing. His bathroom was OUTSIDE, in the middle of the road. I was a bit uncomfortable, because he wasn’t the only one peeing. There were a few men squatting and peeing. Everything is starting to make sense to me now. One of the hugest reasons why this city stinks so badly is because these men like to defecate in the corners of the roads! As he was peeing, I sat with a hive of mosquitoes hovering over my head. At that point I didn’t know what to do…so I just sat there anxiously waiting for him to finish his peepee session. Without washing his hands, he hopped back on, and kept driving. I tried to act as normal as possible. The roads continued to crowd with men. Their eyes were like snakes. It was gross. I was covered in black yet they still persisted to look. I almost felt like they were undressing me with their eyes. Later, I saw a few women walking in front of a movie theatre and learned that this was a underground location for many prostitutes. What’s crazy is that they look like regular Bengali women, dressed in Salwar Kamis. The theatre is also a prime location for many of the lower class men (beggars, rickshawallahs, and street vendors). Everything has a price here. And I can feel the costs bearing on the women heavily. I see women doing a lot of sad work…I will explain more of that later. I think the bad condition of women is largely attributed to the illiteracy. 90% of Bangladeshi women are illiterate. Many men have the opportunity to ride rickshaws, or be drivers for the rich folks. But the women here resort to begging, banji, and prostitution. It’s a very grim reality here in the city. As I say on the Rickshaw many little kids stopped me in the middle of the road with massive buses passing by asking for money. One of the kids had a connection with a elder beggar and directed him on which people to talk to giving out money. I quickly learned that this was a type of business also. Like my mother says, money talks! Finally I reached home…and continued to think to myself about a lot of things, which I will later mention…

Love u ALL!!!

The Beauty of Peace

Hi everyone. I apologize for the delayed response...lately so much has been going on. The most mundane daily activities fascinate me. I am learning the value of patience, and living simply. LA has such a fast paced life. Some days here, I wake up in the morning, have some tea, watch CNN/BBC, spend time with my Grandma, explore the outside world, eat lunch, read, and later in evening write. I understand that sometimes, in life it’s okay to move slowly. I think more. I write more. I feel more this way. Each day I step outside I understand the value of life. I almost died the other day on the Rickshaw. In the middle of a crowded intersection a bus was coming full speed 50 miles unaware of my Rickshaw. I missed the bus by a fragment of a second. At that point I realized how important life was. I could have been gone that instant. Here in the city there are no street signs, or organized form of transport. Consequently When I leave outside to do my groceries, or just people watch I make sure that all my senses are wide awake. I am at peace. Here is a quick rundown of my trip so far:

November 29^th, 2007: My mother doesn’t realize the dangers of going out in the city. Bangladesh is currently in the state of emergency. Currently, a military government is in charge. So everywhere I go, I happen to an army officer. Certain areas are prohibited for traveling, especially in the night. But my mother likes to be “adventurous”, we visited a place called “The Stadium.” In this area stereos and electronic devices are sold. I had no idea about this place. This environment is surrounded by MEN. And there is a very ghostly atmosphere outside the stores. When I walked inside, I felt scared. My gut feeling told me this was a very dangerous place to be visiting. The men kept looking at me weird. I wore all black that day. These men reminded me I was a foreigner. I was constantly being stare at. I heard strange mumbles like “she’s a bidesh “(foreigner) or is this girl an “Arab?” I was REALLY happy to hear ARAB. Why? Because I knew if they smelled American, I was going to be an American roast cooked alive! Anyhow, I alerted my mother that I felt a bad energy in the stadium. We left. When I came home, I asked my family members about this stadium place. They were in shock that we even stepped foot there in the evening. I learned from my uncle that, many of these men are from Madarasas. For those of you who don’t know Madarassas are Islamic schools where often time’s extremist versions of Islam are taught. Many of the boys are orphans or of poorer backgrounds. They are brainwashed to die for Islam and kill anyone that looks suspect aka American. In essence, that night, our lives were in danger.

November 28^th, 2007: I spent time with my cousin. During her childhood, she suffered from epilepsy. She fears anything. People, school, getting her eye brows done all scare her. For whatever reason though, she enjoys my company. I can see through her. She has immense potential. Partial reasons for her fear includes the way our family treats her. Most of them think she is really stupid because she hates going to school. This girl has infinite potential. If she puts her mind into something that she is passionate about she will excel immediately. Thus far I have learned a lot from her. She is teaching me about college life. It’s so different here from America. Students aren’t allowed to wear make up to school, and they are beaten if they are social. School is only for studying, nothing else. Sometimes teachers threaten their students with violence. The system is very stern.