The drums of global tastes have reached deep in the diplomatic enclave of Dhaka. I admire the owners for knowing their audience. The Mermaid Cafe in Baridhara is an eco-cafe outfitted with free Wi-Fi, cane furniture, funky artwork, and the other backpacking eco-warrior accoutrements. Located near a mosque, the cafe is a warren, nay, a medieval old city of room upon room upon room. The entrance has a tiki bar, pools of water carved out of tropical woods where turtles live as pets, and where are the dreadlocked backpackers?
Mermaid Cafe is known for their fresh lemonade as tart as Bangladeshis are sweet. I got the Wild Banana Shake (of course!) and the Thai Chicken with Organic Rice and Beans. It was all excellent. I look forward to trying the rest of the menu.
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This cafe is part of a tourist company and resort down on the coast of Bangladesh in Cox’s Bazaar (a favorite honeymoon destination for Bangladeshis). Cox’s Bazar is the location of the world’s longest unbroken stretch of natural sand beach in the world… 75 miles long.
***updated October 2013 — also Prisma now does Internet and I would choose a package deal if I were doing this again as their Internet prices are much cheaper than what I have*** Ninety-one channels of cable TV arrived yesterday. I went with a recommendation and used a company called Prisma Digital (www.prisma.net.bd). The customer service guy spoke English (useful for me considering my Bangla consists of saying something akin to “Good garble-TV-yes-yes?”). An appointment was made. Forty minutes after the appointed time, a call from the customer service saying that they were late. Another appointment time made. Another hour passed. Another call. Late again. New appointment made. For ten minutes later. Twenty minutes later, they arrived with the guard escorting them up and checking with me that this was truly what “madame” (me) wanted. The two guys came in (not in their uniforms like I was told by the guy on the phone) but still the one guy was carrying a large roll of cable on his shoulder so I figured they were the right guys (or that guy has the strangest taste in neck ornamentation). They took their shoes off out in the stairway. Then they set to work.
Efficiently, they opened the balcony door, fed cable out down to the street, and disappeared out onto the street. Coiling the wire into a loose bunch, he threw the bunch over the first wire criss-crossing the street. He missed and the wire got caught. He pulled it back down. Coiled it up again. Threw it again. It went over. The other cable guy helped guide him. They do this ten times a day, every day of the year (but for ten holidays he gets off per year), so they know what they are doing. No doubt. Then, through some rock, paper, scissors system, decided who would shimmy up the telephone pole. Up he went, barefoot, pulling on wires for support. When he got high enough, he pulled on the plastic tube holding many of the wires… water came shooting out and poured onto the street. Unperturbed, the cable guy reached out for the cable junction. He couldn’t reach it. He climbed a little higher by grabbing hold of the wires. Rickshaws and cars honked and buzzed by on the street. The neighbors came out to talk. The cable guys conferred, one at street level, the other one dangling from a telephone pole (this level of agility and athleticism is not called parkour, base jumping, rock climbing or anything else fancy that involves helmets, safety lines, or club memberships). Then, it was done. They came running up. One guy climbed up the bars on the balcony and neatly attached the cable out of the way, then fed it along the wall so that it would be neatly hidden. When he got to the balcony door, he took pliers and efficiently “bit” off bits of the door frames so that he could feed the cable in. Then they plugged in the TV, set the channels, wrote a neat carbon paper bill, handed me a guide to the channels, showed me some of the choice channels (sport with cricket, Star movies, MTV Asia, and BBC), and left.
Unwinding the cable of which the first 30 feet are free ($.75 per foot after that).
Just another day in the office for Dhaka cable guys.
A word about the channels. Many of them are the same channel but in different languages. I have Bangladeshi, Indian, Chinese, German, Italian, Korean, Japanese, Russian, Arabic, American, British, Australian, etc. channels (TLC, Discovery, CNN, BBC, NG, HBO and so on). All with an Asian twist.
It was 300 Taka ($4.50) for the installation fee and 300 Taka per month with no contract***since 2012, it has cost 400 taka per month, of which I pay six months at a time so that they cable guy will not appear at my door every month***. The guys would not take a tip.
Because the “good banana” salesman was out to lunch (with bananas left unattended on the cardboard boxes that constituted his stall), my friend’s housekeeper had gone back of his own accord to buy the good bananas. I was brought some. These bananas are rich, custardy, and have an after aroma of passionfruit. When I told a colleague how incredibly sweet they were while showing her this photo, her reaction was that they were “so small and ugly.” My response to her was that many of us are small and ugly on the outside but sweet on the inside.
Went to the mall in the part of Dhaka where lots of universities are located… was it past Dhanmondi? I am atrociously bad with names and places. We went to Boomers which is a popular restaurant chain with hip young Bangladeshis. They had Bangladeshi, Indian and Chinese food. The prices for the food at Boomers was in the 375 Taka ($5) range. The naan was covered in sweet goo as the locals like things SWEET!
Then we shopped. Lots of shops with not so crazy prices (earrings for $.75 to sari material for $150). More about sari shopping later. This is the one I like today. it was on sale for half price and still cost $95. There were lots of shops selling clothes, separate ones for both ladies and men. The mall had shops for buying bangles and other personal adornments for the ears, hair parting, nose, ankles, wrists, fingers, upper arms and so on. So much that sparkles! All that you might want in terms of grooming could be had here. Across from the men’s hairdresser’s was a “kid’s saloon” manned with smiling boys. Instead of chairs, there were colorful plastic space motorcycles (or some other conveyance that a child would find fun to ride).
Chiffon sari with hand sewn seed pearl decoration.
The mall is three floors of shopping and food.
The childrens’ hairdresser.
Block print shalwar camise cloth.
The salesman at the block print shalwar camise shop.
A shop for the ethereal…
ASIDE: I ventured to the toilet in the mall. The Bangladeshi lady with us went with me… apologizing for the condition. I frankly have been in MUCH worse toilets. This one was like some in the U.S. But, I was glad that she went with me as I would never have read the signs in Bangla (there were no pictures so you have to be literate to go to the bathroom in this mall). Also, being able to see into the men’s was perhaps not what I wanted to see on my way out of the ladies.
Getting directions in Dhaka seem to center around, “you go out of the Westin, second left, by the pot hole…” or “you know DIT 2, well, it’s over near there” or “not the Nokia store but the other one. I don’t know the address.” The traffic in Dhaka is infamous. Part of this notoriety is the insane sensation of being in a life-risking video game with whizzing and weaving rickshaws, scooters, cars, trucks, buses, bicycles, pedestrians, hawkers, CNGs (green tuk tuk type things that run on some other fuel), and flatbed wheeled carts pulled by a man. Every one of those conveyances is going at a different speed. If you like to drive NY-style but with no real rules… then Dhaka is for you. Oh and the gear/stick shift is on your left because you are sitting on the right of the car and driving down the left side of the road… while playing “chicken” with the cars coming directly at you one rickshaw-length from you… I only closed my eyes once… otherwise, I kept them open. Otherwise, I would have missed the rickshaw with the family of three with the infant sleeping in her mother’s lap… rickshaw bouncing down the dirt road…
Rickshaw Road at night when there is very little traffic.
Beside the lush Gulshan lake wooded path, in the gated neighborhood of Baridhara in Dhaka, Bangladesh, is a quiet street, lined with six floor high rises, milky lights and security guards at each gated house. Shinier and brighter than the residential buildings is the Ascot, a hotel with a rooftop restaurant. A barbecue restaurant. Passing through the hotel which is decorated like a spa (dark wood and zen plants) and past the staff all welcoming and greeting (there is no shortage of people in Dhaka), you whizz up in the elevator to the rooftop. Outside, the warm winter air (70 F even at 6 pm) is vibrating with Latin rhythms. The walls are decorated with strings of white holiday lights and exotic vines.
The food is good. My salmon with baked potato with butter and chunks of garlic is served with steamed vegetables. Plus, a yummy “jus” of citrus sauce. The portions are normal (so small compared to American portions); the service is slow but friendly; the prices baffling (not what is printed because of the addition of taxes etc.); and you must bring your own wine (and corkscrew). There are wine glasses on the table but you bring your own. This is a barbecue restaurant because the steak, salmon, red snapper, etc. is cooked on the grill (large drum style grills which give those grill marks and scent that tell you that you are eating outside!) My salmon entree cost around 890 Taka but I paid around 1,350 Taka (about $19) to include bottled water and taxes.
With the roar of landing airplanes, Latin music, mosquitoes and exclusion from the world at ground level… this could have been an experience almost anywhere in the world. It’s a good life.
The BBQ restaurant at the Ascot"Roof Top Flame Outlet"
