Any Colour You Like
I simply can't resist the chance to forage into Old Dhaka. On Friday, I was going to have a slow morning before church, but Ali ambushed me with a plan to go to Bongo Bazaar, and then search for Rickshaw Art. "Oh please can I come?" "Sure"
Bongo Bazaar is where they sell garment factory extra's. Often they are imperfect, or not "export quality." It's the ultimate thrift store. If you want to rummage around inevitably you can get a great winter coat for $10, or next season's jeans for $2. You'll also find gloves with imperfections like skinny wiggly fingers (someone's first attempt at using a sewing machine?), or T-shirts over which two or three different designs have been screen printed.
We breeze past the first few stalls quickly - saris and baby clothes. Soon we are in the women's western clothes section - cute shirts, skirts, jeans. "Madam, come here!" "You want?" "Foreigner!" The shop keepers are excited to see us.
Almost as soon as we find the women's section, we leave it, finding ourselves in the men's section. Hey! Where are the rest of the women's clothes? It dawns on us. No Bangladeshi women wear these clothes in the country. Millions of Men, on the other hand, can wear the western men's clothes here. Thus, there are only 40 stalls selling women's clothes, and 1500 selling men's clothes. Argh!
We continue looking through the bazaar. There are cool T-shirt shops where Carolyn stops for a while, picking out gifts to take back to North America. Across the way there are walls and walls of football (soccer) shirts. Most are Green and yellow, or blue and white. Brazil and Argentina are obviously the only two teams that matter. I browse the shirts, looking for a Spain, Mexico, or anything else that catches my eye.
"England!" the shopkeeper hollers. "No, Spain" "England will go farther [in the tournament]" "Maybe, but I love Spain." "No, England!" He pulls out a shirt with England emblazoned on the front. It is definitely the cutest shirt I've seen in the market. I want it. "No, I don't like England" I say, looking at the shirt. "Yes, England, they will go far!" "Well how much is it?" "250 taka." "No. I don't really like England, and all the other shirts here are 50 tk." "OK 50 tk."
Just then someone brings a shirt with "España" from a far stall. "Oh!" I grin. "Now you've blown it" Ali groans. Sure enough, when I ask how much it is they say 400tk. I bargain and cajol and walk away. "I won't pay more that 50 tk." "Ok, 60 tk." So now, by virtue of a shopping trip, I am an England supporter, unless they are playing Spain.
After we finish in Bongo Bazaar we decide to try finding the rickshaw art places. Last summer a friend and I spent 2 or 3 hours looking for rickshaw art, to no avail. However, when I took some friends on an Old Dhaka tour early last December I spotted some shops as we rickshawed out of the old city. Could I find it back? We decided that it would be best to start from Hindu Street.
Hindu Street is one of my favorite places in the world. The overcrowded, built up, dusty heat of it (which my mother hates) excites me. It's so Alive. Since we are already there we walk around for a while. It is Friday, the day of rest, so the street is less crowded than normal.
We gaze at the Hindu Temples, in which old men are discoursing on religious or social matters. I poke into the kite shop and get some paper kites, including 3 Lime green ones with a yellow diamond in the middle - Hooray for Brazil!
Bongo Bazaar is where they sell garment factory extra's. Often they are imperfect, or not "export quality." It's the ultimate thrift store. If you want to rummage around inevitably you can get a great winter coat for $10, or next season's jeans for $2. You'll also find gloves with imperfections like skinny wiggly fingers (someone's first attempt at using a sewing machine?), or T-shirts over which two or three different designs have been screen printed.
We breeze past the first few stalls quickly - saris and baby clothes. Soon we are in the women's western clothes section - cute shirts, skirts, jeans. "Madam, come here!" "You want?" "Foreigner!" The shop keepers are excited to see us.
Almost as soon as we find the women's section, we leave it, finding ourselves in the men's section. Hey! Where are the rest of the women's clothes? It dawns on us. No Bangladeshi women wear these clothes in the country. Millions of Men, on the other hand, can wear the western men's clothes here. Thus, there are only 40 stalls selling women's clothes, and 1500 selling men's clothes. Argh!
We continue looking through the bazaar. There are cool T-shirt shops where Carolyn stops for a while, picking out gifts to take back to North America. Across the way there are walls and walls of football (soccer) shirts. Most are Green and yellow, or blue and white. Brazil and Argentina are obviously the only two teams that matter. I browse the shirts, looking for a Spain, Mexico, or anything else that catches my eye."England!" the shopkeeper hollers. "No, Spain" "England will go farther [in the tournament]" "Maybe, but I love Spain." "No, England!" He pulls out a shirt with England emblazoned on the front. It is definitely the cutest shirt I've seen in the market. I want it. "No, I don't like England" I say, looking at the shirt. "Yes, England, they will go far!" "Well how much is it?" "250 taka." "No. I don't really like England, and all the other shirts here are 50 tk." "OK 50 tk."
Just then someone brings a shirt with "España" from a far stall. "Oh!" I grin. "Now you've blown it" Ali groans. Sure enough, when I ask how much it is they say 400tk. I bargain and cajol and walk away. "I won't pay more that 50 tk." "Ok, 60 tk." So now, by virtue of a shopping trip, I am an England supporter, unless they are playing Spain.
After we finish in Bongo Bazaar we decide to try finding the rickshaw art places. Last summer a friend and I spent 2 or 3 hours looking for rickshaw art, to no avail. However, when I took some friends on an Old Dhaka tour early last December I spotted some shops as we rickshawed out of the old city. Could I find it back? We decided that it would be best to start from Hindu Street.
Hindu Street is one of my favorite places in the world. The overcrowded, built up, dusty heat of it (which my mother hates) excites me. It's so Alive. Since we are already there we walk around for a while. It is Friday, the day of rest, so the street is less crowded than normal.
We gaze at the Hindu Temples, in which old men are discoursing on religious or social matters. I poke into the kite shop and get some paper kites, including 3 Lime green ones with a yellow diamond in the middle - Hooray for Brazil!
We try on enormous Styrofoam Hindu Wedding hats.
We watch a man cut, sand and design a shell bangle. Carolyn buys a set of ankle bells that traditional dancers wear to create rhythms.
Then we hop on rickshaws to find the rickshaw art place. The rickshaws pass out of the Hindu quarter in into a mostly Muslim area. Hundreds of men and boys in their white punjabi's are on the street. Most of the stores, however, are closed. The part of me that wants to find the rickshaw art today is disappointed, another part of me recalls its Reformed upbringing and applauds their decision to take a day of rest. We'll get rickshaw art another day.
When we get home there is just enough time to shower and put on my new España shirt before heading out to church.
(There is more about Hindu Street, and Old Dhaka in general in the August 2005 archive)
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