Outlets- Dhaka Style

As you may know, many American and European labels use Bangladesh as a veritable sweatshop for their wares. Brands like Armani, H&M, Gap, Banana Republic, Old Navy, Zara, and some weird ones you only find at Wal-Mart all display that veritable stamp of outsourcing- "Made in Bangladesh". 

Naturally, some of these clothes do not pass quality control for one reason or another. If one piece of clothing is defective, the company rejects the entire batch, even though the others may be fine. Clothes that don't sell well in the West are also often kept in Bangladesh to save on shipping costs. SO. It follows, then, that there would be a Mecca, a shining beacon of cheap western clothes ripe for the picking- and that place is called Banga Bazaar. 

A couple of days ago, some friends and I decided to make our pilgrimage to this magical place. Some Canadians who live in our building had shown us their wares and said it was a fairly easy place to get to. So off we go, ready to bargain our way into some things we couldn't afford to buy at home. 

First of all, I continue to underestimate the extent of the traffic here. I suppose that's what happens when there is absolutely no regard for the laws of the road. On this trip alone, our taxi driver drive the wrong way on a divided highway three times. THREE. 

So after we are dropped off, we realize that it's the wrong bazaar. The drivers have dropped us at BangLa Bazaar, not Banga bazaar. We later find out that there exists a: 

Banga Bazaar

Bangla Bazaar

Babu Bazaar 

Babar Bazaar

Bangu Bazaar

That might explain why we were dropped at the wrong place. We look around for a while and decide we should not give up. So off we go, pilgrims of consumerism, in search of the correct bazaar. Some frantic hand gestures from locals tell us that it is across the river. We see several steamer ferries docked at the port, so we figure we'll take one across. Wrong. We enter the terminal to find that the steamers are basically for show and, judging by the condition, haven't been moved or cleaned since approximately 1960. In order to cross the river, we must get in a rickety rowboat, entrusting our cameras, money, and lives to a Bengali man who strongly resembles Methuselah. Crossing this river poses several threats: 1) we could fall in and drown 2) we could fall in and survive, but catch so many diseases from the water that we're really better off dead 3) this boatman could keel over at any second, leaving us stranded in the middle of the putrid river. So off we go, dodging cargo ships and tug boat barges, trash and other rowboats, until we reach the other side. 

Once over, we soon realize that we again have reached the wrong bazaar. Our bazaar is back across the river. Not wanting to endanger our lives again, we choose to cross the river via the bridge about half a mile away. We continue across the river and keep asking for directions. On our journey we realize that Dhaka must be segmented into districts, with each district having only one kind of store. We pass through the sink district, the toilet district, the paper district, the faucet district, the steel district, the funny-looking-iron-rod district, and the furniture district. At each point, there are no less than twenty or thirty stores- all with the exact same wares. After 40 days and 40 nights (or three and a half hours of searching), we see it. At first it seems like a mirage, but then it becomes clear- jeans! 

We run into this Promised Land and rifle through clothes like it's water in the desert. There are, of course, no changing rooms. After deciding it was worth it, I simply dropped trou and tried on several pairs of jeans right there in the bazaar. The problem is, you lose your ability to walk away from a haggle if you're standing there in your underoos. Consequently, I probably could have gotten a better deal if I had thought this out before taking off my pants. Still, I came out with a pair two pairs of jeans and a polo- all for less than $20. Not too shabby, and somehow completely worth the effort. 

I think I'll go back; but next time I'll bring Moses along so I don't have to get in that boat again.