What the Water Wants Is Hurricanes

Ali went on an adventure to find Seven Domed Mosque the other day, and upon finding it took me to go see. The oldest Mogoul style mosque in Bangladesh, dating from 1680, is surrounded by training centers and hostels for the madrassa (Muslim boy's school). The mosque's courtyard was full of tupee-wearing boys playing ball, who hardly even noticed a pair of bideshi girls staring at them and their mosque.
It was fun to find such a thing right in my own neighborhood - just past the bazaar, down a few back streets, up a hill (a hill! in the middle of Dhaka!), and past a factory. The factory was pretty sketchy - lots of people working with glowy hot chunks of metal with absolutely no protection. Next time I'm going to get off the rickshaw for a closer look.

Another day the dark sky turned wet. From dry sky to POURING. Big, fat, thick drops fell down so heavily that we all sat at the office window, watching it. The wind started to blow and that’s when I remembered that all of the windows in my 5th story apartment were open. So I headed home, just across the street, to close the windows. I ran through a full foot of water in the street, but it didn’t matter, because by the time I got to my building my whole body was as wet as my feet. The water was streaming down the stairs as I sloshed up them, from the roof -which must not have a high enough step in front of the door. My apartment was almost as wet inside as outside...almost. Nasty black lines streaked the walls from the dirty screens on the windows above sizable pools on the floor, and a rather unfortunate soggy mess on Ali's desk.
That’ll teach me to leave the windows open during the storm. Welcome to the South Asian Monsoon.

Washing 50-100 ants out of the water tank of my coffee pot is not my favorite way to start the day, yet I've had to do it all week. How do they get there? Why doesn't the coffee filter catch the ones I miss? Floating ants in my coffee - extraordinary is not always excellent.