What did I expect? Cockroaches pouring out of cupboards the moment my back was turned? Battalions of flies covering every possible, including human, surface? Mosquitoes the size of fighter jets dive-bombing the enemy with malaria? The Deshi equivalent of Delhi-belly, dengue fever, dysentery, cholera? Yes, all that. And worse.
Well, happily I can report that so far - there are mozzies but not malarial, just the usual type - bastard. Flies. Where are they? I think I've seen five. What's the story? Maybe they overwinter in Africa and are gathering at the border waiting for the rainy season. Cockroaches. Well, yes. I've seen one. That was in the induction flat after the guys we shared with kept leaving food out at night. In this flat - none. We clean for England - or rather Bangladesh. Every scrap of food is put away when not being cooked or eaten. Every utensil is scrubbed and polished and stored away. If any cockroach dared to show it's face in our flat I don't fancy its chances.
As regards the lurgy, I didn't have all those jabs for nothing. But I have just spent the last four days sampling the joys of private hospital care Bangladesh-style so I've got the I-was-sick-in-the-Desh medal big style. It's really embarrassing to say it but I was hospitalised for a sore throat. Damn. I knew it was my weak link health-wise but to be hospitalised! Anyway, for those who are interested in such things it was acute peri-tonsillitis with complications (an abcess). Not fun. I hadn't been able to speak, eat, drink or later breath (much) for a few days and had to be antibiotic-ed, re-hydrated, re-whatever-ed intravenously. What can I say, it was a great hospital so it reminded me of France rather than England. The bed was soft, there was hot water and a TV. As soon as I came back to my senses I felt as though I was on holiday.
One interesting feature to compare with both France and England is the Deshi approach to personal hygiene - mine not theirs. In England it's my problem; in France I'm pushed into a shower with a bottle of antiseptic the second I am admitted, then the day after my op I'm marched into the bathroom and 'helped' to wash myself thoroughly, again with antiseptic. Here, there is a woman whose sole job is to wash the patients by hand. She arrives with a big bowl of warm water and half a dozen muslin cloths and proceeds to help me out of my pyjamas and then wash me down from head to toe. It's like being a baby and having mummy look after you. After the shock of the first time, it's lovely. Just don't even think about being coy. I had three washes the first evening first to clean me and then to help reduce my fever, then twice a day after that. Lovely.
The brain is such a weird country. During my first night I had a nightmare/hallucination sort-of thing. I was convinced there was a rice paddy growing under my bed and it kept trying to spread but that no-one must find out. So I had to wake up to keep pushing it back under the bed. I've heard of monsters under the bed, but a paddy field? Hmmm.
View from my 6th floor room - and yes, it's pollution.
Bath time & washing clothes in the lake above.
Well, happily I can report that so far - there are mozzies but not malarial, just the usual type - bastard. Flies. Where are they? I think I've seen five. What's the story? Maybe they overwinter in Africa and are gathering at the border waiting for the rainy season. Cockroaches. Well, yes. I've seen one. That was in the induction flat after the guys we shared with kept leaving food out at night. In this flat - none. We clean for England - or rather Bangladesh. Every scrap of food is put away when not being cooked or eaten. Every utensil is scrubbed and polished and stored away. If any cockroach dared to show it's face in our flat I don't fancy its chances.
As regards the lurgy, I didn't have all those jabs for nothing. But I have just spent the last four days sampling the joys of private hospital care Bangladesh-style so I've got the I-was-sick-in-the-Desh medal big style. It's really embarrassing to say it but I was hospitalised for a sore throat. Damn. I knew it was my weak link health-wise but to be hospitalised! Anyway, for those who are interested in such things it was acute peri-tonsillitis with complications (an abcess). Not fun. I hadn't been able to speak, eat, drink or later breath (much) for a few days and had to be antibiotic-ed, re-hydrated, re-whatever-ed intravenously. What can I say, it was a great hospital so it reminded me of France rather than England. The bed was soft, there was hot water and a TV. As soon as I came back to my senses I felt as though I was on holiday.
One interesting feature to compare with both France and England is the Deshi approach to personal hygiene - mine not theirs. In England it's my problem; in France I'm pushed into a shower with a bottle of antiseptic the second I am admitted, then the day after my op I'm marched into the bathroom and 'helped' to wash myself thoroughly, again with antiseptic. Here, there is a woman whose sole job is to wash the patients by hand. She arrives with a big bowl of warm water and half a dozen muslin cloths and proceeds to help me out of my pyjamas and then wash me down from head to toe. It's like being a baby and having mummy look after you. After the shock of the first time, it's lovely. Just don't even think about being coy. I had three washes the first evening first to clean me and then to help reduce my fever, then twice a day after that. Lovely.
The brain is such a weird country. During my first night I had a nightmare/hallucination sort-of thing. I was convinced there was a rice paddy growing under my bed and it kept trying to spread but that no-one must find out. So I had to wake up to keep pushing it back under the bed. I've heard of monsters under the bed, but a paddy field? Hmmm.
View from my 6th floor room - and yes, it's pollution.
Bath time & washing clothes in the lake above.
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