Smile Sylhet!

We finally made it to Sylhet, Templeton's base for his sojourn in Bangladesh. Its the capital of the nothern province, which is famous for the tea gardens and tea production. With a population of 6 million, it is still considered one of the smaller towns in the country. Being a "regional town", the lack of other foreigners make me just stick out a little bit more and people seem to gather around us whenever we are out.

Its very cosy inside T's apartment - as in, it feels like home and its, well, hot. Its on the fourth floor of a block of around about 12(?) units (two per floor). Its probably a bit big for just one person, and it looks a little empty because he doesn't really want to furnish it. But as soon as I arrived it turned into a mess... The front door is secured by a padlock, and so is the gate to the complex. Padlocks are probably what the No.8 wire is to New Zealanders to the Bangladeshis. T's neighbours are quite nosey but quite friendly too, so I don't feel particularly threatened but we sort of try and keep a low profile. Its in a quietish and leafy neighbourhood even though its only 5 minutes rickshaw ride from the main drag. Its a typical mid-range middle-class Bangla brick apartment block that is kind of non-descript in my architectural vocabulary - maybe like, if you take rows of mint lollies and pile them together in a neat stash, then take some away as if you are playing Jinga with it. There is an awfully ostentatious building at the top of the road, kinda like a banana republic style embassy in Thorndon Wellington or one of those Chinese built mansions in Howick with those ghastly poles guarding the front door, added with chunks of blue perspex jabbed around the edges just to give it a 21st century feel. Apparently, during the wet season when his street was flooded there is fish swimming in the street. A little dusty white and brown pussy cat hangs around the area, catching a grasshopper or two sometimes and I like to say hi to him but he runs away. I'm thinking by now you should have worked out that I am an incurable cat-person. That's another thing that the locals are amused about - the fact that I say Hi to cats.

I went and visited T's work on the second day after an invariably long sleep in and met some of his colleagues and had lunch at his office. For 30 takas (about 60 australian cents) you get a 1-meat, 1-vege and rice dish for lunch. I was lucky to turn up on a day where the office ran a course on HIV prevention & education for a group of sex workers, but while I really tried hard to convince the officer in charge to let me sit in, they didn't feel comfortable having me there, which is completely understandable.

I am getting some shopping done for a ball I am going to at the end of the week in Dhaka, and we spend the day running around visiting different shops for things like sari, a blouse that goes inside the sari, bangles, shoes, bindis, makeup, and fake eyelashes. The way they organise shops here in Bangladesh is quite interesting - all the shops for a particular item, like saris, would all be in one area in one shopping complex, pretty much selling the same thing at the same price, one after another. You then have to go across town to get makeup and accessories - and again with each shop, all the same size, lined one after another, selling pretty much exactly the same products. I just can't see how they actually compete and make money with so much similarity with each other. It certainly is hard for me as a consumer to choose with no variation in choice, if you know what I mean. Another insteresting observation though, is that even though all the stuff I've been buying is all "girly stuff", the shop keepers are all men. They are still extremely clued up on how I should wear make up and even demonstrate how to put a sari on for me.

The town is getting ready for the Shab-e-barat festival, which takes place a month before Ramadan. Its basically a big feed along with a whole evening of praying, because they believe that it is through out this very evening that Ala decides the fate of all people for the coming year. The streets certainly has a festive feel to it as people seem to be really busy with shopping and getting home. Even the cap sellers come out to exploit the time of the year where every man and boy absolutely must go to the mosque. The butcheries are at their busiest, with cows and goats tied at the front of each shop. The poor skinny things looked bored, and while I would imagine that they'd sense that their lives are about to end quite soon by crying and wailing, its not the case. Maybe because the actual slaughtering happens at the back of the shop. Again each butchery looks the same. The bench tops at the shop front is lined with big portions of meat, with large chunks of legs hung on hooks above the benches. The heads are left unskinned and lined up at the edge of the floor of the bench unless there is room on the bench, while the sheets of skin are piled at the back of the shop.

We were invited to T's mate Surma's place for some snacks first, and then to Shahidul and Lopa's for a full on dinner. The stuff Lopa makes is absolutely amazing, apart from the staple chicken curry there was a fish dish (fresh water I assume) made very similar to the Chinese fresh steam style, a vege curry out of a plant that is melon like but also reminded me of ocras, a great dahl and egg soup dish that you eat with lemons, and a potato dish. It was made a lot more atmospheric too with the blackout as we had to eat in candlelight - can you imagine how hard it was too eating with your hands and not really seeing what you're trying to pick up?