Ok, the shine of Dhaka has worn off. This was achieved in one easy step by trying to buy my bus ticket for my return to Rangamati. Ricksaw wallah and I had somewhat of a misunderstanding as to my desired destination. I ended up back where I had come from, only further away on the other side of where I had come from. Heated debate over cost of fare to the place I didn’t even want to go to in the first place. Ricksaw wallah followed me for a bit, until the payment of the debated 10 taka was settled. Bastard.
Fine. Whatever. So I think I’ve now bought a ticket for a bus to Rangamati at 7am tomorrow morning. And I also think I know where to go to catch the bus from. Two quite big ‘thinks’ there. But I’m feeling lucky. Pleeeeease all go according to plan tomorrow and let me find the bus that actually goes to Rangamati. That’s all I ask. I’ve forgone the option of air-con (only the night bus to Rangamati has air-con, and I’m not ready for the night bus yet), so I don’t think I’m asking too much.
Next stop is post office… I’ve put off that fun activity and now need to do it in this mood, which I can already guess isn’t going to work out well for me. And then, fuck it, I’m off to the Bagha. I do actually need to go to officially become a member, which is something you can’t do after office hours. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it.
Great news: I’ve bought Season 2 of the Sopranos. I LOVE the Sopranos, developing a bit of an addition here. Only started watching it here in Bangladesh. Tony Soprano is my ex-boss and Tony’s nephew, Christopher Moltisanti, is my ex-boss’ faithful, ‘wanna be taken seriously gangster’ office side kick. ‘I’m sorry T!’
P.S. The rat in the flat is dead. The cleaner bought the dead rat to the office to show everyone this morning. Brought the dead rat … to … the … office.