Arriving to Dhaka
On August 3, our family began our thirty-one-hour flight path to Dhaka. We took two eight-hour flights, each accompanied by a five-hour lay over, and a final four-hour flight to Dhaka.
On the first flight, I gratefully received the gift of having the entire row to ourselves. The second flight was during the night, and both kids slept soundly for nearly the entire eight hours. On the final flight, we were split between two rows. We both had row mates who seemed to have a pleasant attitude about being seated near children. Funnily enough, the airlines wanted to see the baby buckled before take-off and landing, so I would sit the baby under his own seat belt while he screamed until the flight attendants were in their own seats again. The Asian airlines were particularly generous and at the sound of any crying we were showered with kids’ snacks and toys.
The air was clear, and a slight rain hit the windows as we landed in Dhaka. The man next to me leaned over and said something to me in Bangla, but all I could pick out was the word “Dhaka”. I felt a great amount of peace. We were unloaded from the plane onto a bus that drove to a detached airport terminal. Inside a person was waiting for us to navigate us through the visa process and to assist us with our bags. All of our bags were intact, on time, and promptly loaded into a new vehicle to be driven to our new home. Only two of the roads we drove on had lanes painted on the street. The cars, double decker buses, electric bikes, and pedestrians weaved around once another with astonishing closeness without crashing. Each road was a constant merge which bottlenecked as we turned into the enclave. Against the concrete background, colorful rickshaws, large overhanging trees, and women dressed in long, brightly dyed hijabs brought vibrancy to the landscape. At a train stop, we saw a passenger train pass with a very relaxed man standing on top of the train in an Argentina jersey. We turned a few more corners, and suddenly we were home.
We entered a spacious apartment, with tiled floors and white walls. As we walked around I began to feel excited thinking about future moments of being able to host and play inside. Each room was enhanced by sconces, vaulted ceilings, and dark wood that lined the doorways. The dining table was filled with flowers, kids’ toys, and warm food prepared by some of Miles’ new coworkers. We learned where all of the light switches were and how the faucet knobs worked and laid down to rest at 4:00 pm. Most of us slept until midnight and again from around 3:30 until 6:30, with the exception of our baby who slept his first eleven-hour night in his new crib. Because of the time difference, both Miles and I got to call our families to report that we were settled into our new home.
