I figured: don’t ask, don’t get. I’d love to see a Bengal Tiger in its natural environment. It’s not likely to happen. They live way out in the jungle and I’m more or less stuck in the city. Fear of me getting bitten by mosquitos is real and fair. And I’m sure such a tourist activity would cost a lot of money. Ah well, it was worth a try. I’ve also asked for an Ayurvedic Massage while here – this is a part of the world where this healing technique originated. I’m crossing fingers that wish can be made real.

But back to the here and now… Happiness is fresh undies after 3 days wearing the same ones (washing in sink each night along with the under arms of my tops!) My luggage has arrived and I now have many options and combinations of clothes to choose from. Hurrah!

So at least I now have my own clothes and can feel less embarrassed about wearing the same clothes and no earrings or make up or adornments – I’ve felt rather pasty and drab and that everyone can see how weary I’ve been feeling. There are enough other things to feel embarrassed about. One is my difficulty in understanding who is part of the WSDA. I’’m often introduced in a hurry as Ahmed moves on and I find myself unsure what their name is again and what their roles is so I know whether I need to pay extra attention to them. Are they important for me to know who they are and make friends with them? A couple of times I’ve just skipped by them as it was all a bit awkward and then later discovering they are some critical part of my visit here. Sorry. Sorry. Everyone has been super tolerant as I’ve stumbled my way through greetings in part English, part very basic Bangla and part made up sign language.

Talking of tricky navigation of experiences, while in a foreign country, our powers of observation really come to the fore, are acutely necessary. I’m constantly needing to “Notice. Recognise. Respond.” Vigilance and awareness of what’s important to pay attention to, responsibility for what’s needing special focus on my part, and creative solution finding. Pretty much everything is either new or enough different that it takes some consideration to navigate. Here no shoes are allowed in the communal bathroom, so there are a pile of jandals at the door. First several times I missed that cue and had to run back out and change my shoes or put on the jandals. The shower itself is barely a dribble, but it’s a cooling dribble so I’m perfectly happy. Interesting to note the bucket and smaller pouring container in the corner for those who prefer to douche that way. In the toilets, the bidet – which I’m now getting good at using (it became even more my friend with the regular use I made of the toilets and the hot, stingy orifices that were blessedly eased by the water rather than raspy toilet paper – read next blog). I need to put on appropriate, conservative clothes for my walk to and from the communal bathroom as there are usually a few people milling around. A couple of times I’ve peeked out of my room door, saw no-one there so ran the gauntlet not fully covered up (it’s just too hot…) and someone has popped out of the shadows. Doh! Hoping I’m not offending too many people by my dress and foreign presence. I am rather the spectacle (and the mildly shocked double takes continue to amuse.)