Posts in Batch 20
118 - Chandu the Magnificent (Chitwan National Park, Nepal)

So, Chandu (seasoned guide), Denis (personable assistant), and I (inept Caucasian) boarded a dugout canoe and shoved off. Patches of human activity soon faded behind us. Birdlife abounded. Denizens included Siberian ducks (a.k.a common eider… I think?). Chandu claimed these ducks inhabit the plains of the Terai to escape bitter Siberian winters. They mate for life and are often found in pairs… allegedly. He also said when a mate dies, the other commits suicide. Romeo and Juliet ain't got shit on these birds. I can confirm none of this and believe Chandu was pulling stories from his ass. By 9 a.m., he was drunk, so this wasn’t unthinkable. The question “how do ducks commit suicide” is right up there with…

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117 - To The Jungle, Bubba! (Sauraha, Nepal)

My strident aim was to avoid the Disneyland package tour everyone and their mother was hell-bent on participating in, a three-day/two-night extravaganza with a cursory jungle walk and an elephant ride. I wasn’t against riding elephants in theory, assuming they’re cared for, but it would feel less asshole-ish if it was a necessity rather than a tourist dalliance. In Thailand, I gave Dumbo a spin. Admittedly, it was fun, but every time I rest on the memory, I have an uncontrollable desire to kick my own ass.

I’d read the pachyderm express was ideal for circumnavigating the freakishly tall and surprisingly sharp elephant grass covering areas of Chitwan.

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116 - Bye Bye Bangladesh

I discovered a second GMG office in the terminal. Trust but verify, no? I inquired within and was told the decision was made the night before. Of course, it had. I asked if it were possible to check-in, so I could enter the gate area and enjoy the luxury of internet. They agreed. I then paid to access the executive lounge (I'm worth it) where I watched television and surfed the web with impunity. You haven’t lived until you’ve spent eight hours in the executive lounge at Dhaka International Airport.

A final punch in the balls came when the flight was delayed an additional half-hour, which in Bengali translates as two hours. This time it was a VIP departure. All runways were shut down until liftoff…

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115 - Charming My Cobra (Munshiganj, Bangladesh)

Enter Mindfuck 101. Am I sweating? Yes, I’m sweating. Did my heart just skip a beat? Two beats? Would I win a Darwin Award for this? Am I dizzy or just hungry? Do I have an ulcer? Canker sore? Am I a moron? Yes, I’m a moron. No, no, I’m outstanding. Super cool… the coolest dead tourist in Bangladesh. Mama, I’m coming home.

Before then, I would’ve deemed swallowing snake venom suicidal. Expert reassurance and logic propelled me into the breach. There were children present. They wouldn’t slay Johnny Adventure in front of the kids, would they? I let myself believe the village elders wouldn’t invite the shitstorm that might result from a negligent tourist death… um, right…

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114 - Abandon Ship (Chittagong, Bangladesh)

I stood in the mire trying to digest this alternate reality. Any way you slice it, the scene was a constant tragedy unfolding. Children without a childhood? Men without a choice? A government without a conscience? No, that's too easy. Nothing is black and white. Nothing is ever that simple. Child labor is horrible, but what other options are there? Take away their jobs, and where does that leave them? Their families? Is dangerous work better than no work at all? Increase oversight. Increase safety standards. Lower profits. Lower wages. Choices. Terrible, terrible choices. You could blame the government, I suppose, but before pulling that trigger, delve into the history of this star-crossed nation…

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113 - Shiny Happy People (Chittagong, Bangladesh)

At the river, I was speechless. Men and boys paraded frantically from small ships to weight scales with baskets of white grainy material atop their heads. I soon realized this was salt and that this patch of riverfront was where it was unloaded, weighed, and initially processed. Nobody was screwing around. It was like watching leaf-cutter ants moving with military speed, discipline, and precision. I had to watch my step to avoid being trampled.

There’s one surefire way to gum up the works—take out a camera and start firing away. Everyone wanted in, much to the dismay of those on a tight schedule. Men hauling salt. Men weighing salt. Men bathing in the filthiest water you could imagine…

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