The Social Life

Wow, a week between posts.  I have been busy.  School is now in full swing.  I'm having to spend a lot of time preparing for my economics classes.  They are two year long classes, so the seniors studied economics last year - about 25 years more recently than I last did.  And as juniors and seniors, they aren't as easily fooled or bluffed as the freshmen I've been teaching the past four years.  It will probably be easier once I've had a chance to review most of the major concepts and establish my academic superiority.  And next year will be a breeze.

There really isn't much in the way of entertainment in Dhaka.  I believe there is one movie theater, but it only has two screens and is probably in Bangla.  There is a huge, modern mall on the outskirts of town that was completed about two years ago.  But then the builder was imprisoned for fraud (apparently) and it has been sitting empty ever since.

So that leaves the clubs, some restaurants and entertaining at home.  The restaurants can't serve alcohol, but will allow you to bring wine and will provide wine glasses.  We tried the most popular Italian restaurant last Friday.  Some of the entrees were amazing, some were very mediocre, and all were overpriced.  A single pizza was $7 (more than I pay my cook or driver for a day).  I am really missing coal fired pizza now.

The Australian Club is the place to be on Thursday nights (for Happy Hour), and a group of us went a week ago.  We don't have our American Club cards (and thus reciprocity) yet, so we have to rely on the kindness of Australians to let us in (but they are a friendly bunch).  They have a nice open air bar next to the pool at which we can fortify ourselves against malaria.  I can see now that the British Empire in Asia would never have happened without gin and tonic.

This was followed up by Dart Dudes - a weekly men-only party hosted by a chemistry teacher.  He brews his own beer and gin, and I have to say they were both pretty tasty.  He distills his alcohol one more time than commercial distillers do, and you could really tell the difference.  The purpose is actually (supposedly) darts and not drinking, and I was somewhat apprehensive.  The host is very serious about darts and pointed out that he had the most expensive darts you can buy anywhere.  I had visions of being the first one to send one of these beautiful little missiles sailing into the concrete wall or his TV set, thus ruining the dart and my social life for the next two years.  It didn't help that all of the other guys were teasing me about being able to throw a dart with my neck brace.  Fortified with the courage that only good alcohol can provide, I stepped up to the line, loosened my arms, rolled up my sleeves . . . and threw the first bullseye of my life.  I then turned to the crowd, smiled and said I was finished, and sat down.  Of course they made me get back up and actually play a game, and I was able to hold my own.

At the same time, the Dart Widows hold another party in a different apartment.  I was warned that no one with a penis was allowed to cross the threshold.  The woman with whom I share a car was attending that party, so I had to stop in on the way home to see if she needed a ride.  I cautiously held the door frame, stuck only my head inside (figuring they wouldn't throw things at the neck brace) and asked to see her.  After three hours of drinking they had loosened up enough to actually let a man in and I stayed for one more drink and some more food.

I also attended TV night on Wednesday.  The host rotates (and chooses the shows to download) and everyone else BYOB's and brings food.  It was so nice to actually watch TV again after so long, and the food was great.  We watched three CTV shows that I had never heard of (for good reason, I now know).  I had been flaunting my Canadian citizenship until now; this made me question that decision.

I'm learning that manners really matter here.  You never crash a party.  Several of the new girls crashed the Dart Widows party and were warned that they risked being blackballed for the rest of their time here if it ever happened again.  And everyone sends written thank you notes.  Thank goodness I brought some stationery with me.  Thanks mom for giving it to me all those years ago.

I'm off to a Ramadan Iftar dinner tonight.