in which Tim drives a rickshaw

For an American in Dhaka, it is simply a fact of life that when you walk down the street (no matter what street it is, or the time of day) you will be the object of an awful lot of attention. The attention-givers generally fall into one of three categories. The first are the beggars, who I have talked a little bit about in the past. The second group is what I like to call "the English speakers", despite their limited vocabulary. These interactions usually begin with them politely inquiring "your country is what?". I always reply truthfully (although I might start having a little fun by saying something like "Korea". What do you think?), and they usually run out of English after one or two more sentences. Fortunately my Bangla is improving, so I can start to make the conversations a little more interesting.

The third main group of people who pay attention on the street are the rickshaw drivers. Some are polite (they leave when you tell them you don't need a ride). Some are rude (they stop in your path to try and get your attention and force you into their cart). And some are as persistent as the desperate telemarketers that tend to call around dinner time.

Last night I had an amusing encounter with one such driver. I was walking home from a friends place quite late at night. I had about eight blocks to go, and fancied the walk. Toward the beginning of the route, I picked up a persistent rickshaw driver, who just kind of cruised along next to me, chatting with me for six blocks. I appreciated his sense of humor and relative politeness, and told him since he was kind of wasting his time with me since I wanted the exercise anyway. I told him that he got plenty of exercise in his line of work, but some of us sit at desks and in cars all day and like to stretch our legs on occasion. He then told me that if I liked, I was more than welcome get some exercise by driving his rickshaw. How could I turn down such an invitation? So on I got, and he climbed into the rear passenger seat. Down the street we went, drawing a few shocked looks and even more laughs from fellow rickshaw drivers and pedestrians who were struck by the image of a Westerner pedaling a rickshaw down the street.

The most shocked look came from the guard of my apartment building (who knows me quite well) when I pulled up to the gate. Sure, it was socially unconventional. But I got some exercise, and it makes a half decent blog entry. At the end of the day, I think that's a pretty good score.