Lose this crowd
I have been meaning to write in here since returning from our studio trip to Bangladesh, but life has been a crazy roller coaster since. We just finished out mid-reviews and are now on spring break. I initially had fantasies of spring break being one last fun adventure of grad school life. Instead, my focus has been on securing my future. I’ve begun the hunt for post-grad employment and its nerve racking. I’m sure in the end I’ll be fine; I just have to ensure I can financially survive the transition between New Haven and beyond.
This was definitely the best studio trip. It was one of the best adventures I’ve ever had. It started out right. We get to the airport, a shady, dirty little shithole. Outside at the place our bus is to pick us up, is a fence that runs the entire length of the airport. On the other side of it were at least a thousand people standing at the entire length, five rows deep just looking at us. They looked impoverished. There were so many of them. There were guards at the airport doors with rifles slung over their shoulder. It was night, and this was our first impression. Then our bus shows up. What was later named our spaceship, in the midst of twenty-year old cars with rust, duck tape and broken everything comes this brand new 40-person megabus. It has all the bells and whistles: LEDs, Air con, tinted windows, shiny wheels, a huge decal that said “Foreign Tourist” and a sign that said Yale University. It was almost too much. We couldn’t stop laughing. This thing stayed with us for the duration of the trip and was a champ. At the end of the trip, we tipped our drivers with all the money we had left.
Our first full day in Dhaka, we got a private tour of Kahn’s National Parliament. I love to pick on Kahn, but that project was pretty outstanding. We left and took a look around at some colleges and then decided to look at a street market. This is where the adventure really began. No one noticed that Peter wasn’t with us when we jumped on a series of bicycle rickshaws. Our Bengali assistant professor, Kheshef, told all the drivers where to go and I was the last one to jump on. I never knew Peter was missing so rode alone. As we got into the dense traffic our rickshaws began to split up and take different routes. We make it to a big road and my driver decides to peddle faster on the fast side of vehicular traffic. The city was amazing by rickshaw. It was all so raw and real. Then too real. A cargo truck in front of us changed lanes right into us. I suddenly and slowly heard the rickshaw beneath me begin to crush and splinter. We were being squished between the truck and a concrete wall maybe 3-feet high. I noticed the wall and just jumped right onto it at the same time as the rickshaw collapsed completely beneath me and under the truck. The driver was able to jump off and squeeze between the wall without getting crushed. Traffic stopped and police who were nearby rushed over. Everything was chaotic. My head was chaotic. All I could think about was that I was alone in one of the largest and most dense cities in the world without an idea of where I was or how I could get anywhere. I didn’t know where our hotel was; I didn’t even know where we were going. Only the driver knew, and I didn’t know where he went in the chaos. The police kept asking if I was ok. My legs hurt and I later noticed huge bruises on both of my knees, but otherwise I was fine. Had I remained on the rickshaw or reacted slower, my legs would have been completely crushed. I wished I had taken a photo of the accident. I began texting Matt, Steph and Brian hoping someone would respond and I could get out of there. I went with the police and a director came to us. He asked if I was ok again. Then he said I could go. I told him I had nowhere to go, but he didn’t understand my English. The police found my driver and told him to tell another driver where I was going. Then Khashef called and I gave my phone to the new driver to sort out where I was going. I finally made it back in one piece, but it was an adventure. That night I took a card of the hotel in the event of being split again. Always know you’re way back James.
to be continued...
soundtrack to entry:
This was definitely the best studio trip. It was one of the best adventures I’ve ever had. It started out right. We get to the airport, a shady, dirty little shithole. Outside at the place our bus is to pick us up, is a fence that runs the entire length of the airport. On the other side of it were at least a thousand people standing at the entire length, five rows deep just looking at us. They looked impoverished. There were so many of them. There were guards at the airport doors with rifles slung over their shoulder. It was night, and this was our first impression. Then our bus shows up. What was later named our spaceship, in the midst of twenty-year old cars with rust, duck tape and broken everything comes this brand new 40-person megabus. It has all the bells and whistles: LEDs, Air con, tinted windows, shiny wheels, a huge decal that said “Foreign Tourist” and a sign that said Yale University. It was almost too much. We couldn’t stop laughing. This thing stayed with us for the duration of the trip and was a champ. At the end of the trip, we tipped our drivers with all the money we had left.
Our first full day in Dhaka, we got a private tour of Kahn’s National Parliament. I love to pick on Kahn, but that project was pretty outstanding. We left and took a look around at some colleges and then decided to look at a street market. This is where the adventure really began. No one noticed that Peter wasn’t with us when we jumped on a series of bicycle rickshaws. Our Bengali assistant professor, Kheshef, told all the drivers where to go and I was the last one to jump on. I never knew Peter was missing so rode alone. As we got into the dense traffic our rickshaws began to split up and take different routes. We make it to a big road and my driver decides to peddle faster on the fast side of vehicular traffic. The city was amazing by rickshaw. It was all so raw and real. Then too real. A cargo truck in front of us changed lanes right into us. I suddenly and slowly heard the rickshaw beneath me begin to crush and splinter. We were being squished between the truck and a concrete wall maybe 3-feet high. I noticed the wall and just jumped right onto it at the same time as the rickshaw collapsed completely beneath me and under the truck. The driver was able to jump off and squeeze between the wall without getting crushed. Traffic stopped and police who were nearby rushed over. Everything was chaotic. My head was chaotic. All I could think about was that I was alone in one of the largest and most dense cities in the world without an idea of where I was or how I could get anywhere. I didn’t know where our hotel was; I didn’t even know where we were going. Only the driver knew, and I didn’t know where he went in the chaos. The police kept asking if I was ok. My legs hurt and I later noticed huge bruises on both of my knees, but otherwise I was fine. Had I remained on the rickshaw or reacted slower, my legs would have been completely crushed. I wished I had taken a photo of the accident. I began texting Matt, Steph and Brian hoping someone would respond and I could get out of there. I went with the police and a director came to us. He asked if I was ok again. Then he said I could go. I told him I had nowhere to go, but he didn’t understand my English. The police found my driver and told him to tell another driver where I was going. Then Khashef called and I gave my phone to the new driver to sort out where I was going. I finally made it back in one piece, but it was an adventure. That night I took a card of the hotel in the event of being split again. Always know you’re way back James.
to be continued...
soundtrack to entry: