Buddha Granted Me Fame, Fortune TBD

It feels great to be a Champion! Now I am referring to the fact that MY TEAM, the Green Bay Packers won the Super Bowl. It was such an invigorating feeling but I must say, it was a lonely feeling, too. I watched it by myself on a Monday morning. With each "belt worthy" play, I was forced to air high-five myself. When WE won, the day went on, school wasn't canceled, and I didn't get to relive the big game through countless replays and endless "The Packers are Great" analysis.

These are the sacrifices I make for the poor.

I took my boundless jubilation to Indonesia where my work will keep me for the next month.

The week once again was comprised of meetings and hours upon hours stuck in traffic. Wrapping up the week and planning for the next, I decided to take advantage of my weekend to visit the largest Buddhist temple in the world, Borobudur.


It is a massive site; the photo does not do it justice. As I approached the temple with great humility, I was bombarded by local youth, clamoring for my autograph. Did they know WE had just won the Super Bowl? Did this blog become world renown? Or was it my sweet beard and my new Bangladeshi threads that led them to believe I was something special?

They wanted, no, needed to know everything about me. Their English wasn't the best, but they were trying. How long had I been there, where was I from, what was my name? "Please sign this Mister. Can we take a picture?" Fame can be tedious.

After the 20th autograph and answering the same 3 questions, I looked up to see, what I presumed to be the local English teacher, smiling to thank me for my patience.


The next morning was an opportunity to experience the sunrise at
Borobudur. It seemed fitting to experience Buddha in the early morning, minus my adoring fans. I think that is the way He would have wanted it.

Steve

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Borobudur, Indonesia

Communication is important, whether in a taxi or a waterfall

The week in Dhaka can be summarized in two words, meetings and insanely-long-taxi-rides.

With my lack of local language skills, I am quickly learning effective techniques to communicate. The lesson was learned painfully with my first cab ride in Dhaka. I had an early morning meeting and knew that traffic would be a nightmare so I left 1 hour before and only had to travel 4 miles (no joke). Instead of asking the people at the front desk that spoke English to call a cab, I decided to venture out on the street to get my own. Me, need help, please.

I was going to a well-known place called "BRAC Centre". I threw in a little Bangladeshi accent, negotiated a price, and we were off. Easy.

Traffic was as expected so for the first hour I was calm and enjoyed the chaos of Dhaka. The driver began to ask me questions, actually I have no idea what he was saying but I began to wonder... Did he really know where he was going. An hour and 15 minutes into the drive, 15 minutes late now, I was a little worried. The person I was to meet called and I explained I was almost there (a total guess actually).

Another 15 minutes passed and she called again as the taxi driver was pulling up to the building. Getting out, I explained that we had just arrived, I looked up to see the sign, "Apollo Hospital".

APOLLO HOSPITAL?!?! I do not speak Bangla and by no means expect Bangladeshis to speak English. The problem in this scenario is that both places, BRAC Centre and Apollo Hospital are English words. At this point I am thoroughly confused and dejected. Once again, I pass the phone to the driver and he gets new directions. He and I have a small discussion, he in Bangla and I in English, mainly I am just saying, "The Apollo Hospital?" We hit traffic jam after traffic jam. Even more frustrating is the fact we were already on these roads. Finally, I decide to pull out my iPhone and to my suprise Google Maps works.

GOOGLE!!! We hit one final traffic jam so I decided to walk. Of course, as soon as I begin to leg it out, traffic lifts and the cabbie passes me by. I arrive just short of an hour late for my meeting.







In need of a little escape, I decided on my way back to Indonesia I would stopover to stay at a former colleague's bed and breakfast in Malaysia, The Dusun. It could not have been any more perfect. When you think of a jungle paradise, this is it.

For the most part, I did nothing. Relaxed, read, slept; pure bliss. I did go on one walk through the jungle to a beautiful secluded waterfall. Once again, the lack of local language was a minor set back.





Entering the pool, I decided to explore the larger waterfall just upstream. Once I climbed to the top, I looked back to see the guide motioning with great exaggeration to come down. Here is the problem. Did he want me to come down the way I got up, along the rock wall or did he want me to slide down the waterfall?

I point at the water, he waves his arm furiously to come down. I point to the wall, he waves his arm furiously to come down. I do this a half a dozen times and am no clearly than the first on which way.

The decision was made for me. The current from the waterfall swept my leg as Johnny did Daniel Son. The waterfall was not a Noah's Ark amusement ride. It was actually painful and not that much fun. I came to find out that the guide's gestures meant, "Don't be an idiot, come down from there. It is very dangerous, you little American fool."

These painful experiences have made me a better person and a much more effective communicator.

Peace and love,
Steve

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Jalan Kemang Raya,Jakarta Capital Region,Indonesia

A long travel day: Patience tried and failed

The streaming sounds of horns honking is soothing especially now that I have a clean set of clothes. I am now in Dhaka, Bangladesh where I will be for the next few days meeting with Grameen Trust and BRAC.


These are two of the World's leading institutions creating solutions to end poverty.


Grameen Bank's and Dr. Yunus's Nobel Peace Prize




To paint a picture, (see photos if you don't like to read) Bangladesh is the size of Wisconsin but has over 150 Million people with 81%(proof) living on less than $2 per day.




The streets are filled with people, cars, motorcycles, tuc tucs, human powered rickshaws, buses, and plenty of dust. Dhaka is a mass of concrete as far as the eye can see and the eye can't see very far with the cloud of dust and smog that blankets the city.

Getting here was a true test of my patience which at times I failed, actually just once. Three flights and on two different airlines complicated the situation. My travel agent was able to get me a steal of a deal on some Bangladeshi airline but the catch was I had to buy at the airport (cash only, what?) I would have a few hours to kill before the flight boarded at 1am.

When the airline counter opened, I scurried my way to the front of the line head of a sea of people mounting with what appeared to be all of their worldly possessions. When I arrived to the counter I explained that I would need to purchase a ticket. This was met with confusion, not a good sign. He confirmed with his manager and came back to explain that I was out of luck. The agents couldn't accept payment which was exactly what I was told to do.

"What do you mean you can't sell me a ticket?" I was thoroughly confused and was certain they would let me on the flight. This banter went on for a few minutes when I finally asked to speak with his manager. At this point, I still was not angry because it was only logical that we would find a solution. they have seats and I have money.

Once the manager, Shokat arrived, I was certain we were in the clear. I presented my reservation number and explained calmly that I needed to purchase the ticket. He immediately restated the absurd. "We cannot sell you a ticket."

Panic struck, I was going to be stuck in this airport. Patience packed her bags and left, I was on my own.

I tried to rectify the situation elevating my voice and throwing in a few demonstrative gestures. Shokat (I only remember his name because I wrote it down along with his number 3 times in an attempt to strike fear into his heart) was adamant that there was nothing he could do and I had to call my travel agent. At this point it was midnight on Sunday.

I accepted defeat by the hands of Mr. Shokat but only for now. I ran to another airline. The ticket agent confused as well, directed me to their office. There I asked a man from another airline for some help. I explained the situation (Patience had returned; she needed to freshen up) and he made a call to someone at the Bangladeshi airline.

I was told to go speak with Shokat.

Somehow Mr. Shokat had come around to the idea of letting me on the plane. Why, no one knows but I have learned not to question the Universe. I apologized to him for Patience's absence.

One I arrived to Bangladesh, 4am now, I went to collect my bag. Gone. At this point Patience was by my side and said everything would be alright.

One breath followed by another, I finally arrived to the hotel ready for some sleep. The rock hard bed and the steady buzz of traffic and horns outside were no match for my exhaustion.

The first order of business when I woke was to find a toothbrush and toothpaste. A convenience store was located next to the hotel. I picked out the cheapest toothbrush and toothpaste I could find.

The total, exactly 61 Taka (no joke). At that moment a calm washed over me letting me know I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

My bag arrived the next day.

Peace and Love,
Steve

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Dhaka, Bangladesh