And what a Bang(ladesh) it was.

 There is a difference between traveling to a place and living in one. Traveling allows you to experience the cursory details, to see the sights and cross monuments and museums off a checklist of must-sees. Traveling is wonderful, and I hope to continue to do it throughout my life. I want to see as much of this great big world as possible. But to live, truly live, in a foreign country is a different beast entirely. To meet friends, have "usuals", wave hello to neighbors- these are the things that truly change a person and how he or she views the world. While I've been immensely fortunate to have opportunities to travel, I have never had the chance to truly live in a country other than the United States. Bangladesh provided me the ability to set up roots- however shallow and temporary- in a home far from my own. It is because of this that I have accomplished my goal. I came here with the intent to truly get to know how this place works, what makes it tick, and how to fix it. Maybe my goals were a bit lofty, but I feel as if I have uncovered a secret- these things aren't knowable. As soon as I thought I had Dhaka all figured out, a completely new layer of confusion, frustration, and admiration would show itself like a never ending I-Spy poster.

So maybe that's it. Living in a place that is foreign in every sense of the word gives you the ability to connect with it- but only so much. There will always be secrets to uncover and lessons to learn; and I don't expect to have it all figured out in fourteen weeks. That being said, this has been the most incredible experience of my life to date. I've broken the stereotypes that I held for myself, I did things I never thought I would do, and I met some of the most caring and committed people I can imagine.

Henry Kissinger once described Bangladesh as an "international basket case". In some ways, he is completely right. There are times when I am so sad for this country and how a very few at the top are largely responsible for the misery of tens of millions at the bottom. Without real change in the government, Bangladesh can never fully crawl out of the hole it has dug over the past forty years. However, there is tremendous good being done as well. Aid money is pouring in and myriad development programs are improving the lives of millions of families across the country. Bangladesh is not without friends, and I am confident that sooner or later, the hard work being done by NGOs, aid organizations, and even some in the government, will pay off.

So I am optimistic as I say goodbye to this thumb-print of a country. It has taught me innumerable lessons on Public Health, development, friendship, loyalty, hard work, honesty, gratitude, and so much more. For all of its faults, it has made me better in the truest sense. I only hope that one day I can return the favor.

Sunderbans- the final frontier

My final trip out of Dhaka before coming home was to the Sunderbans, which in Bengali literally translates to "beautiful forest". It's the largest mangrove swamp in the world- but it looks like a different planet. All the trees have aerial roots that stick up out of the ground like straws. There is no soil- only mud. lots and lots of mud. The kind of mud that makes a sound like the end of the ketchup bottle every time you take a step. Everyone who lives here says it is a must-see, so my trusty band of Canadians and I decided to experience it for ourselves. We set out on a special excursion, one that coincided with the kickoff to the honey collecting season. Honey is a major commodity of the Sunderbans, and the mowalis (honey hunters) leave their families for the month of April and spend 30 days in the jungle searching for monstrous bee hives of death. In the course of the month, an average of twelve mowalis will die via attack by Royal Bengal Tiger. Bees. Tigers. Mud. the three ingredients for a relaxing vacation.

After an uncomfortable 10 hour coach ride next to a guy who climbed over me to go pee so much I actually think he has undiagnosed diabetes, we boarded our river vessel. This mothership was to be our home for the next four days, bravely taking us into the unknown depths of the forest. We spent a whole day cruising and playing cards, reading, and relaxing. The next day was spent doing pretty much the same. Late that afternoon, however, we went on our first honey hunt.

We followed the honey hunters, our guide, and two armed guards with rifles circa WWI deep into the jungle. After wading around in mud for about 15 minutes and fording river channels I've seen only on Oregon Trail, we heard the distinct victory shriek of a mowali. We rushed over to find a bee hive about four feet long and two feet tall hanging from an immense mangrove. The whole thing was swarming with over 1000 2-inch bees. I was about six to ten feet from it. The mowalis started their smoke torches, which disorients the bees and prevents them from stinging. Under the cover of smoke, we watched as the mowalis brushed away hundreds of bees with their bear hands and cut large chunks of the honeycomb into a collecting pot. As the bees were swarming all around us, we covered our faces and prayed they were drunk enough off of the smoke to leave us alone.

After running like banshees away from the hive, we stop at a safe distance to survey the loot. Mowalis can extract up to six kilograms of honey from a single hive. They don't destroy the hive, and in fact this practice promotes forest development by prompting the bees to re-pollinate vegetation in order to rebuild their hive. We visited two more combs in that first trek, and saw some pretty significant tiger prints. It was enough to scare the crap out of me, and I was glad when we made it back to the boat sans beestings and with all of our limbs.

We came back to the main boat covered in mud, sweaty, dirty, and triumphant. I went out three more times the next day. The pictures don't do it justice. This was seriously one of the most incredible, mind-boggling, and adventurous things I've ever done. I'm content to do it once...and leave it at that.

This was the perfect bookend to my Bangladesh experience. After coming back from the Sunderbans, I have only three days to get everything together before I leave. I can't think of a better way to spend my last weekend in Dhaka than almost getting eaten alive.