Saturday, June 18, 2011
Study Day Friday
This will be a really short post, because I didn’t do very much yesterday. In the morning Moumita came over and we worked on my Bangla in preparation for the quiz on Sunday morning. For lunch we went to Café Mango, where I ordered a Mango Lassi and fried chicken. When I try to order a Mango Lassi, I have this problem where I have to decide whether to say am or mango, and end up saying mango like they do in Spanish. Everyone looks at me funny! After lunch, we went over to Moumita’s house to study some more. Her family has a really nice apartment, with a really lovely verandah. We sat out there for a while and enjoyed some am. When it got somewhat later she had her guard get a rickshaw for me. I managed to direct the rickshawallah all the way to my house, and celebrated by giving him extra money.
Out with Moumita
In class on Thursday we learned how to tell time. In Bengal they break the day up into 6 (unequal) sections based on the sun instead of AM/PM. When you say the time, you have to say the time of day and then the time, and the time of day at particular hours changes during different parts of the year. It’s a bit more complicated than the American system. We also learned how to conjugate verbs in the simple present tense. Now I can write sentences!
After class I went out with my language partner Moumita. We went to Banani for lunch, to a restaurant called Roll Express. It’s an Indian restaurant that serves wrap-type rolls. I got a beef roll because I was craving beef, and it was good but had too many peppers. Next we went to East West University to meet Moumita’s friend, who we saw for a very short time and then we left. We took rickshaws everywhere.
Next we went to a store called Aurong because I wanted to buy salwar kameez. Aurong is run by the BRAC NGO. They had a lot of nice things, but everything was really expensive. I didn’t like any of their salwar kameez, so we left and took a CNG to Bashundara City. Bashundara City is a giant 8-story mall (it even has an entire floor of sari stores). As we were wandering around the mall, Moumita said that she had been invited to a wedding and asked if I would like to go. I said yes, and she told me that it was later that night. I was surprised. Neither of us had appropriate clothing or anything, but we went anyway. First we went to her friend’s home (which was nearby) to freshen up, and I borrowed an orna from his sister. Their apartment was very nice. It was the first Bangladeshi home I’d been to.
The ceremony wasn’t the actual wedding, but was a good-luck ceremony and party associated with it. In this ceremony, the groom was supposed to have a yellow powder smeared on his face for good luck. Unfortunately, we had to leave before this happened (we left at 11). We arrived around 9:30 and sat with Moumita’s friends. About half an hour later, the groom’s relatives arrived and were greeted by the bride’s relatives, and gifts were exchanged. The groom entered under a flower-covered shade that looked like an umbrella, and went up onto the stage. Then there was entertainment, planned by his relatives. First, a group of relatives sang some songs. Second, a group of young relatives (which included several of Moumita’s friends) did a long sequence of Bollywood dances. They were very good, and it made me want to dance too. After the dancing, Moumita’s car arrived and we left. There was very little traffic and it only took about half an hour to drive back.
After class I went out with my language partner Moumita. We went to Banani for lunch, to a restaurant called Roll Express. It’s an Indian restaurant that serves wrap-type rolls. I got a beef roll because I was craving beef, and it was good but had too many peppers. Next we went to East West University to meet Moumita’s friend, who we saw for a very short time and then we left. We took rickshaws everywhere.
Next we went to a store called Aurong because I wanted to buy salwar kameez. Aurong is run by the BRAC NGO. They had a lot of nice things, but everything was really expensive. I didn’t like any of their salwar kameez, so we left and took a CNG to Bashundara City. Bashundara City is a giant 8-story mall (it even has an entire floor of sari stores). As we were wandering around the mall, Moumita said that she had been invited to a wedding and asked if I would like to go. I said yes, and she told me that it was later that night. I was surprised. Neither of us had appropriate clothing or anything, but we went anyway. First we went to her friend’s home (which was nearby) to freshen up, and I borrowed an orna from his sister. Their apartment was very nice. It was the first Bangladeshi home I’d been to.
The ceremony wasn’t the actual wedding, but was a good-luck ceremony and party associated with it. In this ceremony, the groom was supposed to have a yellow powder smeared on his face for good luck. Unfortunately, we had to leave before this happened (we left at 11). We arrived around 9:30 and sat with Moumita’s friends. About half an hour later, the groom’s relatives arrived and were greeted by the bride’s relatives, and gifts were exchanged. The groom entered under a flower-covered shade that looked like an umbrella, and went up onto the stage. Then there was entertainment, planned by his relatives. First, a group of relatives sang some songs. Second, a group of young relatives (which included several of Moumita’s friends) did a long sequence of Bollywood dances. They were very good, and it made me want to dance too. After the dancing, Moumita’s car arrived and we left. There was very little traffic and it only took about half an hour to drive back.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Conjugations and errands
On Thursday morning, my roommate and I took a rickshaw to school. It later turned out that we will have a bus to take us there every morning, but we didn’t know that at the time. Margo was the one trying to hire the rickshaw, and we had trouble finding one that was willing to go to Bashundhara. We finally found one that charged way too much and didn’t take us to the right place, but got us close enough to walk there. So we walked around the block with the rickshawallah following us to make sure we got to the right place.
Class was mostly grammar lessons, actually learning basic sentence formation. Bangla has a zero-verb structure that’s very similar to Arabic, so it was easy for me to understand. Our class with Sharmad was over adjectives, and his classes are always fun and extraordinarily helpful in terms of cultural understanding. In our last class we did two role plays, one with a rickshawallah and another ordering food at a restaurant. Atif played the rickshawallah and the waiter, and we were the passengers and customer.
After class we had a lecture on Muslim architecture by a professor from Dhaka University. She was a very good speaker and gave us a lot of good information on Muslim architecture and culture. Her talk was specifically focused on Bengali architecture. The Bengali style of mosque building is particularly interesting because it is patterned on Bengali huts that are the traditional village house. We will be seeing some old architecture when we are at Sonargaon this weekend.
When the lecture was over, I went out with Moumati. We first went to a tailor in Noddabajar so I could get a salwar kameez made. It turned out the fabric I bought at Newmarket wasn’t quite large enough for the pants, so hopefully he’ll be able to do something about that. We then went shopping for a bedspread, since I really needed one. Most Bangladeshis just sleep with a single sheet, but I was getting cold at night with the air conditioning. We went to Golshan Dui to run some errands, and then took a rickshaw to a wholesale market down in Golshan Ek. I found what I was looking for there: a handmade cotton bedspread. Moumati managed to bargain it down from the original 1600 taka, and I got it for 1150. I then realized that I was going to be late for dinner, and we hurried to get home.
Class was mostly grammar lessons, actually learning basic sentence formation. Bangla has a zero-verb structure that’s very similar to Arabic, so it was easy for me to understand. Our class with Sharmad was over adjectives, and his classes are always fun and extraordinarily helpful in terms of cultural understanding. In our last class we did two role plays, one with a rickshawallah and another ordering food at a restaurant. Atif played the rickshawallah and the waiter, and we were the passengers and customer.
After class we had a lecture on Muslim architecture by a professor from Dhaka University. She was a very good speaker and gave us a lot of good information on Muslim architecture and culture. Her talk was specifically focused on Bengali architecture. The Bengali style of mosque building is particularly interesting because it is patterned on Bengali huts that are the traditional village house. We will be seeing some old architecture when we are at Sonargaon this weekend.
When the lecture was over, I went out with Moumati. We first went to a tailor in Noddabajar so I could get a salwar kameez made. It turned out the fabric I bought at Newmarket wasn’t quite large enough for the pants, so hopefully he’ll be able to do something about that. We then went shopping for a bedspread, since I really needed one. Most Bangladeshis just sleep with a single sheet, but I was getting cold at night with the air conditioning. We went to Golshan Dui to run some errands, and then took a rickshaw to a wholesale market down in Golshan Ek. I found what I was looking for there: a handmade cotton bedspread. Moumati managed to bargain it down from the original 1600 taka, and I got it for 1150. I then realized that I was going to be late for dinner, and we hurried to get home.
Language Partners and Embassy Briefing
On Tuesday we had our first weekly quiz, so we spent most of the extra-long weekend preparing for it. I tried to memorize all of the words we had learned, and it turned out that I was overprepared. The quiz was very fair and mostly covered letters and numbers. In the oral part Atif asked me where I got my salwar kameez, and I couldn’t respond because I didn’t remember the name of the store!
After class we met our language partners. My partner’s name is Moumita, and she’s a senior at IUB studying environmental engineering. We went to the cafeteria to get lunch, and sat on the courtyard steps for a few minutes to talk. She asked what state I was from, and didn’t know where Ohio was when I told her (story of my life!). She also taught me some new words, including nani, “maternal grandmother.” We didn’t have time to talk for very long, because the CLS people had a briefing at the American embassy.
At the embassy, we were basically given a security briefing and told that we need to watch out for petty street crime. The security officer gave us his phone number so we can call him directly if we get into trouble.
After the briefing, Devin and I went to Noddabajar. It was the first time I went without one of the Intermediate students. We walked to a few shops, and used Bangla to ask for things like tissues and Tasty Saline. Several people had asked us to get some mangos, so we went to look at the fruit stalls. We ran into Bennett, who is another person in my class. He reminds me a lot of Evan Pugh; he wanders around and talks to everyone. We finally found a stall that had good-looking mangos, and bought a kilo of them. He also had pomegranates, and I asked him how to say it in Bangla. They were too expensive, so I didn’t get any.
After we left Noddabajar, Bennett took us to the mythical cha stand on Road 12. I call it mythical because I’d only ever heard of it, and because it really does look rather mythical when you get to it. It’s a little shelter set back off the road and surrounded by plants in the middle of a residential area. I got a cha, which is tea mixed with milk, sugar and other spices – similar to a chai latte in the US, but different tasting. The stand also sells shingara (Bengali samosas that I actually like better than their Indian counterpart) and some breaded and fried onion thing. All of this food should be safe, since it is served right out of the fryer. I’ll try some of the food another time.
After class we met our language partners. My partner’s name is Moumita, and she’s a senior at IUB studying environmental engineering. We went to the cafeteria to get lunch, and sat on the courtyard steps for a few minutes to talk. She asked what state I was from, and didn’t know where Ohio was when I told her (story of my life!). She also taught me some new words, including nani, “maternal grandmother.” We didn’t have time to talk for very long, because the CLS people had a briefing at the American embassy.
At the embassy, we were basically given a security briefing and told that we need to watch out for petty street crime. The security officer gave us his phone number so we can call him directly if we get into trouble.
After the briefing, Devin and I went to Noddabajar. It was the first time I went without one of the Intermediate students. We walked to a few shops, and used Bangla to ask for things like tissues and Tasty Saline. Several people had asked us to get some mangos, so we went to look at the fruit stalls. We ran into Bennett, who is another person in my class. He reminds me a lot of Evan Pugh; he wanders around and talks to everyone. We finally found a stall that had good-looking mangos, and bought a kilo of them. He also had pomegranates, and I asked him how to say it in Bangla. They were too expensive, so I didn’t get any.
After we left Noddabajar, Bennett took us to the mythical cha stand on Road 12. I call it mythical because I’d only ever heard of it, and because it really does look rather mythical when you get to it. It’s a little shelter set back off the road and surrounded by plants in the middle of a residential area. I got a cha, which is tea mixed with milk, sugar and other spices – similar to a chai latte in the US, but different tasting. The stand also sells shingara (Bengali samosas that I actually like better than their Indian counterpart) and some breaded and fried onion thing. All of this food should be safe, since it is served right out of the fryer. I’ll try some of the food another time.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Old Dhaka
The Internet is out again, so I will post this asap. Even though Sunday is a normal class day here, we get to stay home today because of the hartal (country-wide strike). A few of us may try to go to church this afternoon, but besides that I’m going to stay in Baridhara today. This post is about our trip yesterday.
It rained yesterday morning. The monsoon hasn’t technically started yet, but, as Atif told us, the weather’s giving us a little taste of the rains. It poured for about two hours. We left in the bus about half an hour after it started, and drove all the way to the old part of Dhaka in the rain. Dhaka driving is even crazier in the rain. I felt sorry for the rickshawallahs, who got drenched if they had work.
Our first stop was the Armenian Church. In the 17 and 1800s there was a small but important community of Armenian businessmen in Dhaka. Now there aren’t any Armenians in Dhaka, but the church is recognized as a historic landmark by the government. The bus parked a couple blocks away, and at first we thought that we were lost. Mahfuz went to figure out exactly where it was (it was still raining buckets) and came back to show us where it was. We then hurried along this narrow road huddled under umbrellas until we came to a gated archway on the right. We filed into the archway, which had a platform on the right side and opened out onto a graveyard. The graves were marked with flat slabs on the ground, covered with Armenian writing. After a quick dash through a few meters of rain, we came to the covered side of the church (it had one of those pillared areas on the side) and walked to the front of the church, ending under the belltower. The church is surrounded by a graveyard on three sides, and the property is bordered by normal Dhaka apartment buildings. We took our shoes off and went into the worship space. It was a small church that was nothing special architecturally, compared to other churches in Europe and the US. It was very pretty for Dhaka, however. The church layout was very like old Catholic or Presbyterian churches I’ve been in, with a rail separating the congregation from the front, a decorated altar, a small shrine on the side, and a pulpit. On the left of the altar was a separate room where they performed baptisms. The caretaker told us about his family, particularly his father who spoke fluent Albanian. Before we left he let us ring the bells.
We drove to the next site, the Ashan Manzur (the palace of the Nawabs of Dhaka recently turned into a museum). We were a bit early, and they wouldn’t let the bu in the gate. We were in an area where bideshis didn’t usually come, so there were a lot of people (mostly men) staring at us through the bus windows. Andrew opened his window and talked to one of them in Bangla. I didn’t understand what they were saying, but a rough translation was that the man said that we were white and they were black (dark), and Andrew responded that we are all people. We parked for a little while, and then they let us drive into the grounds. The Ashan Manzur is a big pink building on the Buriganga, the old course of the Ganges. They had it set up as a museum, just like an old plantation house in the US. It was interesting to see the use of both local and English-influenced furniture and dress; in paintings of the nawabs, they invariably wore English pants and shoes with more traditional-looking shirts. The dining room was straight out of 17th-century England. I was most interested in the jalsaghar, which was used to host live entertainment. It was also interesting that the nawab had separate rooms for meeting with Hindu and Muslim visitors. As we were about to leave, some of the people in the program had a rude awakening to the fact that they were, in fact, in Bangladesh: the bathrooms at the Ashan Manzur were just holes in the ground and did not have toilet paper.
Our next stop was the Lal Bagh fort, an unfinished Mughal fort from the reign of Aurangzeb. It was built in true Mughal architecture fashion, and contained three buildings (residence, tomb/shrine, and mosque) within surrounding gardens, fountains, and walls. According to Atif, it’s one of the big places to date in Dhaka. There were a lot of couples there, too. We went into the residence building, and one of the old men who take care of it gave us a tour. He was really excited to be giving these bideshis a tour and practicing his English. Atif showed us a hidden underground escape tunnel in one corner; he said two people got lost in it last year, and it’s now closed up. We then walked to the top of the army barracks and took pictures. I may actually be able to post some pictures with this post, since the internet is working really well right now.
When we got on the bus, one of our teachers, Sharmad, explained the cultural reason why Bangladeshis stare at us so much. Besides the fact that there aren’t many bideshis around, in Bengali culture staring is encouraged; if you look away, you seem shifty and untrustworthy.
We then went to get lunch at a place that was pretty far away from where we were. It turned out to be a bit of a fiasco, because we had such a big group and were each paying individually. By the time we left, it was too late to go to the Hindu temple we were supposed to visit. We had to leave that area by 4 because they didn’t want us anywhere near the hartal demonstrations.
Some of us were dropped off in Golshan Dui so we could visit a grocery store. There’s a bideshi grocery store there called Lavender’s where we can get Western foodstuffs. It’s really expensive. I bought some Jif peanut butter and crackers. Then I decided to take a rickshaw home in an attempt to use my small amount of Bengali. I failed at using Bengali, but I did get to the right place for the right amount of money.
Newmarket
This morning we had our first rainstorm since getting here. I looked outside and the sky was a strange yellowish color and covered with clouds. I thought it was about to start raining. The next time I looked up, it was pouring. But it only lasted for about five minutes, and then it was all over and everything quickly dried out.
Farida’s cousins (who live in Dhaka) came over to visit and go with us to Newmarket. There were four of them: one woman and her 2 ½ year old son, a girl about our age who was in the university, and a guy who was slightly older than us. Only the two who are our age spoke any English at all, but we were able to communicate through their small amount of English and our small amount of Bangla. Besides Farida, the people who went to Newmarket were all beginners: Justine, Noboko, and me. Farida’s male cousin was able to arrange two CNGs to take the whole group to Newmarket for a really good price. Farida got into one with her cousins, and her male cousin sat with the driver in ours. CNGs are basically small green metal cages on wheels, with the driver in front and room for three people in back. They’re really hot and the fumes from the gas engine behind the passengers can be overwhelming. However, they are the best long-distance private transport in the city. They can just be a little frightening.
Newmarket was worth the journey. We went to a sari (in Bengali, shari) store first. The salesmen really wanted to sell an expensive sari to the bideshis, and they must have pulled forty out for us. Sari stores have a special design. Stacked along three walls are saris, with a raised platform covering half the open space by the sari-covered long wall and little red stools lined up beside it. We sat on the stools while they showed us sari after sari, and eventually we had to walk out because they were so intent on selling a sari to us. I do want to buy a sari sometime this summer, but I really didn’t see any I liked. Also, I didn’t have the money to buy one.
We walked down the street and came across stalls selling fabric for salwar kameez. They came in matched sets of fabric cut appropriately for the piece (salwar, kameez, orna) and were the fixed price of 350 taka. Since this is the ordinary way to get a salwar kameez, it is a lot less expensive than buying a pre-made one. Each of the pieces are decorated appropriately for a completed salwar kameez: decoration around the neck, different patterning on the legs, etc. I bought two from different stalls: one that is blue and pink, and another that is green and off-white/tan. I’m going to a tailor in Noddabajar sometime next week to get them made. Buying these fabric sets was an interesting experience, because I knew just enough Bangla to express what I wanted. This made me realize that I am functional in Bangla in a very, very limited capacity, which is very rewarding since I knew absolutely no Bangla a week before. 3 days of class and I can already competently shop on my own (for fixed price goods).
Farida then went to look at a nearby shoe store and bought a pair of sandals. Everyone was really hot by this point, so we went into an air-conditioned diner that was next door. There were two next to each other, and their proprietors were vying for our business, yelling “Madam! Madam!” at us. It’s strange to be singled out so much, but bideshis can’t avoid it here. We’re far too obvious, since there are so few foreigners in the country. Farida’s family had already gone into one of the diners, so we followed them inside. The eating area was upstairs. We ordered soft drinks, and they came in cans that were taller and thinner than American cans. It then became photo op time with the bideshis, when Farida’s family decided to take a lot of pictures. We then walked toward the exit of Newmarket, and stopped in a store selling jewelry and things. I made the mistake of pointing at a hair clip that was pretty, and had to explain that I really didn’t need it in the little Bangla I know. The storekeeper kept lowering his price trying to get me to take it, but I really didn’t want it. I need to watch that next time I’m in a store. As we were leaving the bazaar I saw a stall selling really pretty silk ornas in different colors for 150 taka, and bought a purple one. Outside on the street was a book stall, where I stopped and asked for Harry Potter. They first offered it to me in English, but I asked for Bangla and they pulled out the entire series in Bangla. I decided to buy Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is my proudest purchase in Bangladesh.
It took a long time for Farida’s cousin to find CNGs that were willing to take us back to Baridhara. Eventually he found two, and we left the same way we came. On the way back I saw something interesting: we passed a mosque that was in the middle of prayer, and there was a whole crowd of men who had spread their prayer rugs in the street. I got a great picture out the window of the CNG.
That night we went to a small restaurant called Café Mango, which is located around the corner from Noddabajar. It’s a very Americanized place, and there were several other bideshis there. I had a delicious piece of chicken with garlic butter and vegetables, and tried a mango lassi for dessert. A lassi is fruit juice, yogurt, and milk mixed together. Very refreshing.
Farida’s cousins (who live in Dhaka) came over to visit and go with us to Newmarket. There were four of them: one woman and her 2 ½ year old son, a girl about our age who was in the university, and a guy who was slightly older than us. Only the two who are our age spoke any English at all, but we were able to communicate through their small amount of English and our small amount of Bangla. Besides Farida, the people who went to Newmarket were all beginners: Justine, Noboko, and me. Farida’s male cousin was able to arrange two CNGs to take the whole group to Newmarket for a really good price. Farida got into one with her cousins, and her male cousin sat with the driver in ours. CNGs are basically small green metal cages on wheels, with the driver in front and room for three people in back. They’re really hot and the fumes from the gas engine behind the passengers can be overwhelming. However, they are the best long-distance private transport in the city. They can just be a little frightening.
Newmarket was worth the journey. We went to a sari (in Bengali, shari) store first. The salesmen really wanted to sell an expensive sari to the bideshis, and they must have pulled forty out for us. Sari stores have a special design. Stacked along three walls are saris, with a raised platform covering half the open space by the sari-covered long wall and little red stools lined up beside it. We sat on the stools while they showed us sari after sari, and eventually we had to walk out because they were so intent on selling a sari to us. I do want to buy a sari sometime this summer, but I really didn’t see any I liked. Also, I didn’t have the money to buy one.
We walked down the street and came across stalls selling fabric for salwar kameez. They came in matched sets of fabric cut appropriately for the piece (salwar, kameez, orna) and were the fixed price of 350 taka. Since this is the ordinary way to get a salwar kameez, it is a lot less expensive than buying a pre-made one. Each of the pieces are decorated appropriately for a completed salwar kameez: decoration around the neck, different patterning on the legs, etc. I bought two from different stalls: one that is blue and pink, and another that is green and off-white/tan. I’m going to a tailor in Noddabajar sometime next week to get them made. Buying these fabric sets was an interesting experience, because I knew just enough Bangla to express what I wanted. This made me realize that I am functional in Bangla in a very, very limited capacity, which is very rewarding since I knew absolutely no Bangla a week before. 3 days of class and I can already competently shop on my own (for fixed price goods).
Farida then went to look at a nearby shoe store and bought a pair of sandals. Everyone was really hot by this point, so we went into an air-conditioned diner that was next door. There were two next to each other, and their proprietors were vying for our business, yelling “Madam! Madam!” at us. It’s strange to be singled out so much, but bideshis can’t avoid it here. We’re far too obvious, since there are so few foreigners in the country. Farida’s family had already gone into one of the diners, so we followed them inside. The eating area was upstairs. We ordered soft drinks, and they came in cans that were taller and thinner than American cans. It then became photo op time with the bideshis, when Farida’s family decided to take a lot of pictures. We then walked toward the exit of Newmarket, and stopped in a store selling jewelry and things. I made the mistake of pointing at a hair clip that was pretty, and had to explain that I really didn’t need it in the little Bangla I know. The storekeeper kept lowering his price trying to get me to take it, but I really didn’t want it. I need to watch that next time I’m in a store. As we were leaving the bazaar I saw a stall selling really pretty silk ornas in different colors for 150 taka, and bought a purple one. Outside on the street was a book stall, where I stopped and asked for Harry Potter. They first offered it to me in English, but I asked for Bangla and they pulled out the entire series in Bangla. I decided to buy Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is my proudest purchase in Bangladesh.
It took a long time for Farida’s cousin to find CNGs that were willing to take us back to Baridhara. Eventually he found two, and we left the same way we came. On the way back I saw something interesting: we passed a mosque that was in the middle of prayer, and there was a whole crowd of men who had spread their prayer rugs in the street. I got a great picture out the window of the CNG.
That night we went to a small restaurant called Café Mango, which is located around the corner from Noddabajar. It’s a very Americanized place, and there were several other bideshis there. I had a delicious piece of chicken with garlic butter and vegetables, and tried a mango lassi for dessert. A lassi is fruit juice, yogurt, and milk mixed together. Very refreshing.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Ei rickshaw!
Today we had the much-anticipated rickshaw lesson in my first class, when we learned how to catch a rickshaw and tell the rickshawallah where to go. This is perhaps THE most practical lesson we could get, because we have to take rickshaws everywhere. Two of our teachers did a role play, with one as the rickshawallah and the other as passenger. Atif, the rickshawallah, really got into the role, lounging and pretending to smoke. It was hilarious. They also taught us how to negotiate prices with our limited vocabulary. Interactions with rickshawallahs are pretty standardized, so theoretically this lesson should cover most situations.
In the next class we learned Bengali consonant signs, which are a few standardized signs that signal a conjunct. In Bangla writing, conjuncts indicate that several consonants are produced in a row without being separated by vowels. Not all conjuncts form predictable patterns, but the ones written with consonant signs are easy to figure out.
My third class was on making words out of letters and pronouncing them correctly. We only got through four sounds: k, kh, g, and gh (the h represents aspiration, which is the difference between the k sound in cat and the one in back). We spent about 20 minutes working on the pronunciation of gh, which is really difficult for English speakers because we don’t aspirate voiced stops.
Our final class was on food words, which was useful but made me really hungry (we don’t get out of class until 2). We already knew a lot of the food vocabulary because the intermediate students had told us over meals.
After class we went to the office to get our cell phones. It had taken a few days to get them, because paperwork is crazy in Bangladesh. Rozima, the site director, then told us that there is going to be a hartel, or countrywide strike, on Sunday and Monday. We are therefore not having class and should stay home for safety reasons. On Tuesday we have a briefing at the US Embassy.
Farida, Corinne, and I then took a rickshaw to Golshan Dui, to buy some school supplies and go shopping for salwar kameez. I attempted to tell the rickshawallah where to take us, but couldn’t remember the words; as I was obviously struggling, Corinne took over. I need to take a rickshaw today or tomorrow so I can practice hailing one myself.
Golshan Dui is a big traffic circle in an upper-class commercial district. We walked across the circle (in traffic circles, Bangladeshi drivers actually pay attention to traffic laws!) and went to a bookstore, where I managed to buy tape and a binder without a lot of assistance from the others (just the numbers, which I don’t know yet.) Then we walked down the road toward Banani, and came to our destination: two stores in the same building selling pre-made salwar kameez. They were definitely catering to bideshis (foreigners) like us; both stores reminded me of the little boutique clothing stores you can find in the states. On the top floor there was a selection of salwar kameez ranging between 1500 and 4000 taka each. They even had somewhere to try them on. I found one that I liked, and that was fairly inexpensive. It’s a dark red with blue embroidery around the sleeves and an orange-and- gold embellished neckline, green-gold pants, and a green-gold orna with purple and red border. I wish I could post pictures, but it’s really impossible with the internet as it is here.
We took a rickshaw back from Golshan Dui to Noddabajar, the bazaar near our apartments. Corrine showed us where her tailor’s shop is. We then went for a walk through the food stalls to find some green coconuts, so we could drink coconut water. We found one stall that had them and bought three. To be safe, we only had the seller cut the top off and poke a hole into the inside (instead of completely peeling it like they usually do) and then drank the water. It was very refreshing.
For dinner we had goat! It was definitely not my favorite meat. Bangladeshis tend not to remove bones from cooked meat, so there were a lot of bones in the goat meat. This made it difficult to eat. It was kind of tough and stringy, too.
In the next class we learned Bengali consonant signs, which are a few standardized signs that signal a conjunct. In Bangla writing, conjuncts indicate that several consonants are produced in a row without being separated by vowels. Not all conjuncts form predictable patterns, but the ones written with consonant signs are easy to figure out.
My third class was on making words out of letters and pronouncing them correctly. We only got through four sounds: k, kh, g, and gh (the h represents aspiration, which is the difference between the k sound in cat and the one in back). We spent about 20 minutes working on the pronunciation of gh, which is really difficult for English speakers because we don’t aspirate voiced stops.
Our final class was on food words, which was useful but made me really hungry (we don’t get out of class until 2). We already knew a lot of the food vocabulary because the intermediate students had told us over meals.
After class we went to the office to get our cell phones. It had taken a few days to get them, because paperwork is crazy in Bangladesh. Rozima, the site director, then told us that there is going to be a hartel, or countrywide strike, on Sunday and Monday. We are therefore not having class and should stay home for safety reasons. On Tuesday we have a briefing at the US Embassy.
Farida, Corinne, and I then took a rickshaw to Golshan Dui, to buy some school supplies and go shopping for salwar kameez. I attempted to tell the rickshawallah where to take us, but couldn’t remember the words; as I was obviously struggling, Corinne took over. I need to take a rickshaw today or tomorrow so I can practice hailing one myself.
Golshan Dui is a big traffic circle in an upper-class commercial district. We walked across the circle (in traffic circles, Bangladeshi drivers actually pay attention to traffic laws!) and went to a bookstore, where I managed to buy tape and a binder without a lot of assistance from the others (just the numbers, which I don’t know yet.) Then we walked down the road toward Banani, and came to our destination: two stores in the same building selling pre-made salwar kameez. They were definitely catering to bideshis (foreigners) like us; both stores reminded me of the little boutique clothing stores you can find in the states. On the top floor there was a selection of salwar kameez ranging between 1500 and 4000 taka each. They even had somewhere to try them on. I found one that I liked, and that was fairly inexpensive. It’s a dark red with blue embroidery around the sleeves and an orange-and- gold embellished neckline, green-gold pants, and a green-gold orna with purple and red border. I wish I could post pictures, but it’s really impossible with the internet as it is here.
We took a rickshaw back from Golshan Dui to Noddabajar, the bazaar near our apartments. Corrine showed us where her tailor’s shop is. We then went for a walk through the food stalls to find some green coconuts, so we could drink coconut water. We found one stall that had them and bought three. To be safe, we only had the seller cut the top off and poke a hole into the inside (instead of completely peeling it like they usually do) and then drank the water. It was very refreshing.
For dinner we had goat! It was definitely not my favorite meat. Bangladeshis tend not to remove bones from cooked meat, so there were a lot of bones in the goat meat. This made it difficult to eat. It was kind of tough and stringy, too.
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