Bangladesh 2024 pt. 8: ...Until Next Time

SATURDAY, JUNE 29th, 2024

Dhaka, Bangladesh

DAY 23

Amar shesher din. My Last Day. Nathon and his friend had stayed and chatted the night before, and after they left, Trevor, Lisa, and I tried to walk our beef curry off. Then, I tried to pack my suitcases and make sure they were within weight. I had drank 3 cups of coffee that evening, so I hadn’t been a lick tired when I went to bed. Consequently, we all slept in on Saturday.

I woke up to thunder. I’m not used to hearing thunder first thing in the morning, so I was a bit confused when I opened my eyes. Upon realizing that this is the last bed I will see for two days, I cherished my last moments with it. Then, I arose and went downstairs to drink hot tea with Trevor and Lisa.

I finished packing and we picked up around the house. Then, we loaded all my bags (within weight) into the van. Lisa wanted to show me a bazaar and a river just down the road from Pink City, so we took a little detour on our way out. It was totally awesome to see a completely Bengali village in Dhaka.

We then drove to North End. I had to have one last salted caramel latte. We got roast beef sandwiches for lunch. I bought another coffee cup even though I didn’t have room. When we got back in the van, I had to rearrange my backpack to fit it in.

My flight wasn’t until 7:30, and I didn’t need to be at the airport until 4:30, so we killed time and went to Aarong’s. Of course, I found the perfect decor item for my classroom next year. Of course, it stayed on the shelf because I didn’t have enough room to bring it home. It was too heavy. So, future 7th & 8th graders of WPCS, I apologize for leaving that cool little wooden and gold biplane in Dhaka. It will live in our classroom in spirit.

And then, it was time to go. We pulled up to the young airport employee holding the sign with my name. He would be my guide through the hectic airport: a necessary service. We stood on that curb that has seen so many goodbyes. I hugged my mission family and told them I’d see them at Christmas. I could hardly keep from crying when I saw Kylie’s bottom lip quivering. I’ll have to get her a really nice Christmas gift.

I followed the guy into the airport. He spoke very good English, and wanted to know if I liked their country. “I love it here,” I said. He asked me for my favorite things, my favorite foods, and would I be coming back?

And then, the problems started. The man at the check-in counter seemed confused when he typed my name and confirmation number into his computer. “Your booking is suspended,” he said coldly. Another time, he threw the word “cancelled” around like it had no meaning. After my trip here, that word is not a fun word for me. “You need to contact the airline or your booking agency,” I was told without a care.

I was at a loss for what to do. I hadn’t received any notification about anything like this. In fact, the night before, I had received a notification that I could check in for my flights. Of course, when flying from Dhaka, it doesn’t work to do mobile check-in. But that’s normal and didn’t raise any red flags.

My guide wondered if I wanted to visit the Emirates office. “I’ll take you,” he said. “It’s only upstairs.” He dropped my suitcases in one of the lounges and scurried up the stairs. When we arrived at the end of the long, empty hallway, we found the office dark and closed.

There was a number on the door to call in the event that they were out of office. I tried to call, but my phone had decided I didn’t have enough stress and decided not to work. But, my new friend actually had a heart and dialled it on his phone. We got ahold of one of the agents and I told him what the problem was.

I felt like curling up into a ball and crying. I felt like giving up and staying in Bangladesh forever. I think I could manage if I had to. I was growing increasingly thankful that I had found out my new friend was a Christian. It sounds weird, I know, but it just felt nice to have someone with me who was a little bit the same. We had something in common. I have grown to love both the Muslims and the Hindus in Bangladesh, but there is something about the Christians who are so few and far between. After I had told him that I was a Christian too, and it was always nice to find others in this country, I felt like he was on my side.

And I think he was. He was so positive, always smiling and reassuring me it would be OK. The agent on the phone said he would contact the main office and try to have me rebooked and sorted out within 30 minutes. This was the issue: apparently, when all my flights got cancelled and rescheduled through Istanbul on my way here, it wasn’t done correctly. So, when I didn't show up in Dubai on June 5th, my return flight through Dubai was suspended. After all, how could I be returning through Dubai if I had never gone in the first place?

I was beyond frustrated. The helper guy led me to their lounge to sit and wait. I messaged Lisa and told her not to get too settled into the couch. I might need them to come get me. I didn’t have a clue if I’d have to stay another few days, or forever, or if I’d be leaving today. Ironically, I got my daily Bible verse notification as I was sitting there. Psalm 23:4: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. I wasn’t really in the valley of the shadow of death quite yet, but it was nice to be reminded that I wasn’t as alone as I felt.

All’s well that ends well. After awhile, they called back and said they had me rebooked for my original flight. But, while I was talking on his phone, my helper hiked off on me. Some other guy adopted me and took me back to the check-in counter, where the agent heard about my plight. He said it was not my fault, and that it was the fault of whatever situation I booked with. I won’t be naming names.

When he handed my boarding passes through his little window, I breathed a sigh of relief. My Christian buddy came back to find me, and I thanked him for his help and his patience with me. I breathed another sigh of relief as I passed through Immigration. Again, I breathed a sigh of relief when the gate agent at the gate glanced hastily at my ticket without any incident.

When I entered the waiting area for the passengers, the most Bangladesh scene was waiting for me. Four Muslim men were fully immersed in afternoon prayer. I had heard the call to prayer while standing in line, and here were a few of Allah's faithful followers.

Of course, the gate was packed with people. I couldn’t tell if we were boarding or not and there were no screens to say. So, when I felt like the time was right, I stepped into the line.

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DAC-DXB

I didn’t realize it was possible for a child to scream for five hours. I wanted to be angry, but one time a lady told me something that changed my mind. I was sitting next to her on a flight with a screaming baby. She clicked her tongue and said “Ah, I feel so sorry for the babies. They can’t understand what is going in their little ears. They are so uncomfortable.”

I was able to practice my patience once again when he spilled all his orange juice onto my leg. His parents were mortified and I resisted the urge to burst out laughing. I’d be embarrassed if my kid did that too. I told them it was ok, he was only little.

Across the aisle from the orange juice and me was another child whose aroma suddenly filled the entire section. The captain had just turned the seatbelt sign on due to turbulence, and the mother didn’t think she should get up. I think she could have sneaked to the bathroom without anyone noticing.

I was so hungry and so thirsty, so when they brought me my chicken curry, I dove in. I emptied my sprite in practically one swallow. Well, their curry has nothing on Nathon’s or Dipti’s or Ety’s or Shathi’s or Joyanti’s curries. And there was orange juice on my lap. Bangladesh will be Bangladesh, and I will miss everything about it, even the less glamorous parts.

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DUBAI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

JUNE 29th and 30th, 2024

We arrived in Dubai when it was nearly midnight. I was a little surprised that the airport wasn’t as bougie as I imagined. It seemed fairly normal for an international airport— maybe even underwhelming. The airport people in Dubai are very friendly- not as aloof as some I’ve encountered. They’re always wearing a smile and are willing to answer questions. 5 stars for that.

Once I was through customs, I took the escalator upstairs and hunted for a place to sleep. I thought had found the perfect place— a quiet, empty gate. When I opened my eyes the next time, it was full of people. I walked to a new place: a place that was ideal for sleeping. Others were already sprawled out on the long chairs. I put on my sleeping mask, stuck my AirPods in my ears, and zonked out.

When I woke up with the sunrise call to prayer, it was light outside the windows and the airport had come to life. I got breakfast at McDonald’s and took my morning walk. I stood at the big windows trying to spot the Burj Khalifa. Was I even in Dubai if I didn’t lay eyes on it? I did find some other buildings that looked cool, though. And lots and lots of A380s. I took a walk and looked around, trying to find something fancy. This was DUBAI, after all! It had all the normal "fancy things" as every other foreign international airport I've seen, but it wasn't as grand as I'd expected Dubai's airport to be. One thing was for sure: it was BIG. And perhaps the coolest thing: it had a waterfall with fountains on the other side of the glass elevators.

After 11 hours, it was finally time to go. We went through additional security at the gate, and they tagged my carry-on for gate-checking. I passed through the doors and collected the things I’d need for the flight. As I was squatting there, a tall man with glasses came over. “Excuse me,” he said in accented English. “What’s happening with these bags again?” I guess he wasn’t familiar with the procedure. I found out that he was flying from Tehran to Vancouver. I explained the procedure and how US customs works. He thanked me and left me alone.

As the pre-boarding started, I stared out the windows searching the skyline, trying to get a glimpse of the world’s tallest building. One of the security guys looked at me and said, “if you’re looking for your plane, it’s that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

“I’m just looking at the buildings,” I said.

“Yes, we have a beautiful city. You can visit any time!” (Remember what I said about the friendly people?)

“What’s that building there?” I pointed to a tall, round building with a slanted top.

“That is Emirates Aviation College,” he said proudly. He continued pointing to other buildings in the skyline. “And you can see the Burj Khalifa when you fly out.”

I hoped he was right.

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DXB-SEA

Another 777-300ER. (For any airplane geeks out there. I have some in my family and friends.) The flight was the longest of my trip, scheduled for just under 15 hours. I settled into my new home next to two Muslim guys who looked about my age.

As we left the gate, I got my first real look at the airport. It was sprawled out looking like weird oversized desert worm with all these pointy windows going up over the top. The top of the airport looked dusty from the desert, and the sky behind was completely brown. I watched the skyline as we taxied, keeping my eyes peeled for that famous building.

The pilot came over and made his announcements. He was quite obviously American, so I knew we was in good hands. The beautiful flight attendants, with their red caps and white scarves, scurried around the cabin making sure everyone was happy.

And soon, we lifted up into that dusty sky. My seat was right over the wing, so I couldn’t see much unless the aircraft turned. I got a few peeks at Dubai, and it was beautiful. And then, the wing dipped for a split second and I saw it. The Burj Khalifa. It stretched up and up and through the dust, the base growing narrower and narrow until the only thing left was the spire. In a second, it was gone.

As the flight wore on and on, I nearly died from boredom. The besties beside me popped a few pills and went to sleep. Some cultures have no concept of personal space: neither their own, nor their seat mate's. I kept feeling a leg, or a foot, or an elbow, or a hand. And when I finally drifted off to sleep, a *tap tap tap on my shoulder. Suddenly, now was the perfect time to go for a stroll. You see, I was sitting on the aisle, trapping them in. I could hardly be angry, because once, while on a flight from Singapore to San Fransisco, I was trapped by the window for hours while the guy beside me refused to wake up. I'd take any excuse to stand up with that awful memory in mind.

Our path took us over the North Pole, so I watched the screens diligently. It was just ice. No Santa. No reindeer. What a letdown. I guess it is the offseason, so maybe they’re in vacationing in Bali or something.

We were served two meals, both very Middle Eastern and very reminiscent of the food I had left in Bangladesh. Right before we landed, the handsome Egyptian flight attendant handed me a “margarita pizza.” I could have had four more. At last, some normal food in an airplane.

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SEATTLE-TACOMA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

It’s still June 30th. It’s been a long day.

I don’t know how I made it without dying of boredom, but I did. It took 2 hours to go through baggage claim, customs, rechecking the bags, and security again. I found my Iranian friend in line. Ah, so they did let him in after all.

But I had all the time in the world. My original layover was 7 hours, but the flight kept getting delayed. The latest update was that my flight was leaving at 11pm and arriving in Denver at 2:30. My hotel room in Denver was looking fainter and fainter by the minute.

From his house in Grant County, my dad looked up the flights and told me there was one leaving from Seattle for Denver in one hour. Maybe they had room for me. I scuttled over to the screens and saw it was leaving from gate C16. That was a train ride and a long walk away. And boarding would start soon. Should I even try?

I’ve always wanted to run around an airport feeling important. I’ve always wanted to people see the panic in my eyes and make way for me. Well, I don’t run if I don’t have to, so I walked as fast as I could, still feeling important. I arrived at the gate to see a looooong line at the desk.

When it was my turn, I asked the nice lady if there was any room on the flight. “Why, yes honey, there is!” she said. PHEW. I didn’t have to stay in the airport for 10 hours after all. I told the lady that I had two checked bags that were going on my original flight, and asked her if I could go without them. She said that was completely fine, and that I would just have to go to the Denver airport later and pick them up. That was no problem, as I was flying home to Liberal the next afternoon anyway. She handed me my new boarding pass just as the flight started to board.

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SEA-DEN

I saw nothing but the inside of my eyelids. And the space needle. And the mountains. But nothing was as beautiful as the inside of my eyelids. I felt like I hadn’t slept in months, and I was out for the night. I could finally sleep since there weren't bare muslim feet all over my leg. (It didn’t bother me that the feet were Muslim. At least I knew they were clean.)

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DENVER INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

I arrived around 9:30 pm. I went to baggage claim and talked to some airline people about my situation. “That’s no problem,” the lady told me. “We are here all night, and you’ll just come here in the morning and pick them up.”

With that, I took a shuttle to my hotel for some much needed sleep.

I had been June 30th for 32 hours.

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JULY 1st, 2024

I woke up to a phone call from the baggage people at Alaska Airlines. They had my bags and were wondering how to get them to me. When I got to the airport, I stopped by the office and picked them up before heading straight to the United counter and rechecking them for today's flight.

Once inside the airport, I saw the cutest dog ever. (Besides Marley and Toby.) It was this massive black lab, but my heart dropped when I saw its vest. It’s so hard for me to resist the urge to pet the service dogs. A smile just doesn’t have the same effect as ear scratches.

But, when I came closer, I saw the glorious words on the vest: PLEASE PET ME. I practically ran to the handler. “Please pet????” I repeated. I couldn’t believe my luck.

“Yes!” the handler beamed. “This is Gallway. She’s an airport therapy dog. We just walk around providing support and finding people to pet her!”

And what a good girl Galway was. The handler gave me one of her business cards telling all about Galway. I found we have something in common. Galway’s biggest pet peeve is “not getting food on time.”

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DEN-LBL

It's always interesting to see what if there are any Mennonites on the Liberal flight. It's not uncommon. This time, it was the scariest kind of Mennonite: the youth girl. They were all dolled up in their linen and white sneakers and stickered water bottles, and there I stood in my floral stretch and Hey Dudes and my obnoxious flamingo backpack and tired eyes. I toyed with the idea of feeling self-conscious.

There is nothing more annoying to me than an unfriendly Mennonite (yeah, I said it), so I chatted with them when the opportunity presented itself. We talked about where we were going and where we had been and where we were from. I found out they weren't intimidated by my obnoxious flamingo backpack. And I found out they were actually quite friendly.

The CRJ-200 felt like a baby compared to some of the planes I had been on in recent days. The tall men couldn’t even stand up straight in the cabin and my flamingo backpack barely fit under the seat. Neither pilot looked older than 25, and the flight attendant told us it was her 3rd day. They all did well. The wind off the mountains rocked me to sleep, and the next time I looked out the window, the crop circles and the plains were laid out like below one of Grandma's quilts.

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HOME IN KANSAS

MONDAY, JULY 1st, 2024

The wind and the sun hit me like a hot fan. But the heat was different than the South Asian heat of last week-- even smelled different. The corn had gotten taller, the wheat had been cut, and the rain had left puddles everywhere.

Mom's sourdough bread and beef stew were waiting for me at the table. So were a hundred questions and a hundred stories. And now, I am filled with a hundred more memories I will carry for a lifetime.

I feel so lucky I was able to go back. In some ways, it felt like I was getting closure. When I left the first time, I was leaving my Home and some of my only friends that remained. I was leaving the security of what was familiar and exchanging it for a place and people who had changed so much, I practically didn't recognize them anymore. I didn't even know where Home was. I hadn't lived in Kansas for almost four years. "Home" had become Bangladesh.

Returning to Bangladesh felt like returning Home. But, this time, leaving Bangladesh felt like going Home too. This time, I have things to go back to. I have school sewing and a classroom to set up and Teacher's Prep Class to look forward to. Leaving this time didn't feel so traumatic. It felt like I was finally able to close the chapter.

I will flip back to that chapter often, rereading my favorite parts. I'll read back on the hard parts and wonder how we made it through. And every day, I will be grateful for that little country in South Asia, for her people, and how they both changed my life forever.