Tea?? Biiiiiscuit??

It’s a good thing I really like tea. And that I am a fat kid who can never turn down food, especially if it happens to be in carbohydrate form… because during our tour of the many medical institutions in Sylhet, we were offered tea and biscuits (sometimes more) at every single turn. Basically, if we went to 4 different institutions, there were a minimum of 4 tea breaks… which is fine, but given my usual overheated state and aforementioned paranoia of urinating anywhere outside the comforts of my lodgings it was, occasionally, just TOO MUCH. (Two “quick” digressions. 1. It still boggles my mind that there were so many medical facilities in the city of Sylhet, when there is clearly an dire need for such institutions across the rest of the country, and reportedly even across the district of Sylhet, itself. If only they could disperse. AND 2. While many aspects of this culture have been difficult to adapt to (like the fairly constant spitting… men, women, kids… doesn’t matter, big lugey coming your way), the overall hospitality offered to me, to anyone really, is amazing. People are often overly concerned that the big white bideshi will hurt herself, but they are always well-intentioned. OK. Digression complete).

Of course, on one such tea-laden day we ALSO stopped at the tea garden (on the ~border of India). Tea everywhere! But it was actually quite pretty and serene. The company doctor gave us a tour of the gardens, themselves, as well as the processing plant (which given the lack of safety anything could only conjure images of missing limbs for me). We had… TEA… but outside, at the exclusive guest cottage (formerly used for vacationing/relaxation by the wealthy during the British colonial era; one's stay apparently required royal approval... it has weathered some). Despite my overload, I must say that the tea here is fairly good, and when enjoyed in normal people quantities, I quite like it.

We left Sylhet on Friday, safely carried by “local” transport, though the air conditioned version which most Bangladeshis cannot afford. Our ~4.5 hour journey was interrupted by 2 stops: one for afternoon prayer and the second for lunch. At the second stop I ventured to the bathroom: it had been scouted out by Rupa prior to my leaving the bus. She gave due warning of my bideshi arrival. No less than 4 people enthusiastically directed me to the washroom, which was really only about 3 feet away. And the attendant inside knew to guide my bideshi behind to a western toilet. I have managed to avoid the side of the road thus far. Fingers crossed.