ME-CATION : Manuel Antonio Natural Preserve, Costa Rica

Beautiful Manuel Antonio Natural Preserves

A “Me-cation” is a short trip that you design and take where only you get to set the agenda – it caters to your own senses. If you feel like lazing all day and reading, that’s your call or if you’d rather hike a forest, or just browse some book-stores – that’s fine too! You eat only the food you choose – listening to only your favorite tunes  – and best of all – nap whenever you feel like!

Last year, I took my first me-cation searching for lighthouses at Cod Cape

This year, recently, I journeyed back to Costa Rica after 12 years.  Manuel Antonio Natural Preserves came highly recommended– plenty of natural treks, completely serene lush greenery – monkeys and butterflies make you feel like you are in enchanting forest!

When I was maybe 7, my family lived in this wonderful place called Joypahar, in Chittagong Bangladesh. Our home was a magical Bungalow with Teak flooring, in the middle of a mangrove forest.  A large banyan tree on our driveway, a rock garden, a steep drive down-hill, lots of nature trails, lots of places to get lost! Dr. Yusuf’s “next” bungalow number 7 was a downhill rock-step! I learned to ride a bike in Joypahar.

Landing in Quepos in this little plane after a 20 minute plane ride!

When I flew into Manuel Antonio last week, landing on the small airstrip via the 20 minute Air Sansa flight from San Jose, the first feeling of the place was as if magically,  I had time-traveled to Joypahar!

After settling down in my cozy hotel, went for a dip in the pool and tasted my first caiparenha – sugarcane with a twist of lemon! From the pool, the view of the Pacific stretched out far away! It was great just to sit in the pool and look out in the horizon!

View of the ocean from the infinity pool! Looks even better with a drink in hand!

A short nap and afterwards, a seafood risotto accompanied with a light Shiraz, I planned my ziplining tour for the following morning. On the way to my room, I crossed paths with a white faced monkey who looked at me, as if saying, “What are YOU doing here? “

What are YOU doing here?

Breakfast in Costa Rica, starts with freshly sliced mangoes and papayas. Then one can choose between a made-from-scratch omlette or some black bean rice and shredded chicken/beef! All of this with fresh guava juice, and a fresh assortment of breads and desserts! One can get used to this lifestyle easily.

This is where we started – up on a tree-house like structure!

We drive 45 minutes through palm forests to get to the Canopy safari ziplining tour site. After a brush with hundreds of beautiful butterflies, we started our adventure.  From treetop to treetop, about eight of us were anchored and zipped through one of the most luscious greens I have seen. Touching trees, and leaves and the sheer ecstasy of hanging upside down while flying at 120 feet above the ground or over a stream is exhilarating at the least!

Hanging from my zipline!

The best feeling was when it started to rain and we were ziplining away in the open rain – as if God had decided to send down the shower just to make things more fun and soothing at the same time.

I woke up from my nap on the beach to this view!

Next day, took a bus to the Manuel Antonio Beach and walked the beach to get to a shady spot. It was easy to fall asleep on a bench, looking up at these beautiful trees that are protecting the beach. I woke up watching a green iguana climbing a tree nearby. The tide was coming in and there were plenty of surfers enjoying the ocean. I went and played in the tides for a while and decided to go the nearby thatched roof restaurant for a caiperenha and some sautéed seafood on a toasted piece of French bread.

Seafood on a toast with my Caiperenha! Tastes great after a swim on the beach

Next day, I joined some other tourists from Texas and Mississippi in a wonderful half-day whitewater rafting trip down the Naranjo river; high-octane at times, with twists and turns around lush landscape and lots of bamboo and birds. We went under a tree where a sleeping snake hovered around our heads. Two of our fellow rafters were squealing and screeching at the snake. The snake was probably more surprised than we were at this human intervention.

Beautiful rivers thru lush forests!

The locals recommended two great restaurants to try in Quepos. I loved Kapi Kapi for its Asian-Latin fusion food; I tried a wonderful crusted Mahi with a Soy glaze; The Aqua Azul experience was just as good; I felt as if I was up on a tree house – with no windows. The rain poured down around us and we lost power for a few minutes. With the singing rain, and darkness around me, once again, I was transported back to a childhood, to Joypahar.

As we get older, we tend to look backward, to those days in our lives, that were care-free or fun; when the world had few expectations of you – and you could have uninterrupted fun.

Today, as I look back at my three me-cation days in Costa Rica, while full of adventurous fun, it also helped me re-connect with my childhood – lush green hue and music in the air, a few no-worries type of days, making life worth living.

Room with a view out to the ocean and the rainforest!

Antidote for Anxiety: January 2012

I haven’t felt like this for a long time!

Anxious, nervous; not even certain why or what I am fearful of.

Last time I felt this way, was just before Daiyaan was born.  More than sixteen years ago, I felt this tug on my heart – felt paralyzed as to what to expect. I had never been a father before and didn’t have my own father to ask – how to feel – what to expect. The day after she was born, the anxiety dissipated. Somehow I knew, how to hold her, how to soothe her.

Every time I have started in a new role, a new job, the urgent need to understand and win has overridden the anxiety. There are always people there to talk to, understand and discover new things. The immense curiosity of people overtakes all anxiety.

But today, the feeling is completely different.

In all these years, I have never taken part in a team sport like this. A 200 mile relay race (http://www.ragnarrelay.com/race/floridakeys ) traversing the southernmost points of the beautiful United States. 12 of us; some 36 hours running on surface streets.

Sleep? Not sure.

I am not certain, that my nervousness comes from my inability to actually complete the task; after all, we have trained since October. I believe it stems from the newness and it’s “in-your-face” reality of the possibility of letting your team down.

I hear of chatter of buying running tape, injuries, alligators in the alley, getting disqualified, sipping “drinking goo” – all of this newness  – in my face. I am glad I have a great coach, who talks about just drinking chocolate milk to heal.

Last night, people were talking about drinking more beer or loading up on more starch. Then someone mentioned having salt tablets (sodium) or bananas (potassium). A thousand remedies popping up around me – like pop-up ads on a new web-site.

I have to stop thinking about all this!

I make myself a hot cup of “gorom cha” (milky hot tea); turn on some music that comforts me.  A soft message appears on my cell from my sixteen-year old daughter, “Don’t be (anxious)! You’ll have fun”.

Awww. My heart melts.

I have surrounded myself with people, emotions that I love; I feel comfortable with.

Anxiety is nothing but an emotion, where uncertainty surrounds you. I believe, I have found the remedy. Focus on what makes you comfortable; what makes you smile. Once you know what that is, everything else becomes a piece of cake.

It’s gonna be 74 degrees today in South Florida. Glorious sunshine all the way.

I am ready. The world has prepared me for whatever comes. Alligators or not!

Go for it, my team, The Water Boys!

When I start my run, I will think of running towards Shania for a big hug!

The Pull of Contradictions (Dotana): November 2011

It’s easy to love one thing, people, nation, religion or race; it’s a lot more difficult to
love different types of things or people, which may contradict each other.

As a child, it’s difficult to grasp the symbolism of a game of tug-of-war during a friend’s birthday. We pull, laugh and fall on the ground as the rope keeps moving in one direction or another.

On a trip back to Bangladesh, like a game of tug-of-war, I feel a tug at my heart.

The warmth and affection, from friends and family,  is addictive. When you are “visiting”,everyone loves you for these precious moments. They visit you, invite you to join them for a meal, shower you with gifts, and offer you unsolicited advice – in no particular order.

While sitting in my mother’s living room, thousands of miles away from home, I feel
the craving to play with Shania, my six-year old, in our pool or go on a sunset boat ride with Daiyaan and get a salty kiss from the Atlantic! I want to be here and there at the same time.

The classic immigrant dilemma: I want my two worlds to commingle.

At the end, though, how we sort through these contradictory urges, makes us human.

Is it, by taking the path of least resistance? Or, is it by making the most difficult path?

Many immigrants, face a trigger-decision at one point or another; give up your career goals or the interest of your children’s education, to fulfill your wish to be with and take care of an aging parent? Or – abandon the parent, to achieve your life-long goals and to ensure the future safety and security of your children?

When the heart is involved, I think it’s difficult to think about all of the options and consequences with a clear mind or perfect heart. Sometimes there is a triggering event that forces one to make a choice – a tragedy, disaster or some pinnacle event. It’s easy that way – blame it on the circumstances! “Ja hoi, bhalor jonnoi hoi (Whatever happens, happens for the best).”

Last Year, I wrote about making decisions with “No Regrets”. (http://zainmahmood.wordpress.com/decisions-with-no-regrets/)

Sorting out a dotana however, is not always that simple. There are (at least) two options to
consider.

1. Give-in and let pre-determination, “whatever happens, happens for a reason”, take over.  Let destiny choose its course, look for divine intervention to sort out the dilemma. And pray hard.
2. Seek an “elegant” solution that meets most of yours, and other stakeholders’ needs.

Neither path is perfect – rarely is there a guarantee of blissful happiness.

The deterministic path makes some nervous – mostly those who believe that outcomes can be managed, maneuvered.

The elegant choice path requires working hard, prioritizing, making choices and acting on those choices.

Having tried both paths, my personal inclination is to try the latter first, and if no
headway, succumb to the former! This path, if all fails, gives me the excuse, that at least, “I tried”.

In college, I knew studying Engineering was the more practical option – but passionately loved Economics as a field to study. The solution was to pursue a major in Engineering and a minor in Economics. The practical outcome-based decision overruled my heart. Clearly, that decision has served me well for twenty years!

However, not all decisions in life turn out that simple, or with a pleasant outcome.  Sometimes, one finds themselves making the decisions on which path would lead to a “lesser negative” outcome. Recently, a friend shared his personal experience of disconnecting life-support to one of his parents after many months of coma; everyone looked at him to make that decision. Even today, he wakes up in the middle of the night, crying and perspiring.

After everything is said and done, there are no perfect decisions.  As we grow older, we confront our decisions with courage and some level of moral intensity – or with a deep belief that God (or some Universal Energy) will aid and abet us in sorting out the outcome – the only choice we really have is to prepare to live with the consequences of that particular decision.

When things go haywire, we can choose to be a victim or, own up to our decision and live
the best we can, under the changed circumstances. Second guessing ourselves, “could’ve,
should’ve, would’ve, done this or that” is rarely of much use. Instead, let’s accept the new reality, learn from the experience and try to make the best, again, whenever the situation calls for it.

On a dusty Dhaka evening, outside the airport, I put my bags on a trolley, kiss my mother’s
forehead and tell her that we will see each other soon. There is lingering anxiety and questions in the air; in silence, our eyes ask each other, when will I see you again, are you going to be all-right in this alone world. I see tears in her eyes and turn away because I don’t want her to notice mine. I can hear her saying from the back, “Bhalo Thako, Baba
(Stay well).”

I wish, like that childhood party game, every tug-of-war life decision, was simple, scar-free, and didn’t involve getting hurt or hurting someone else. We could laugh, scream, pull harder and worst, fall on the ground; after the game, there was always lemonade, a nice frosted cake with ice-cream and maybe another game of hide-and-go seek.

Does God Live Here: August 2011

Does God live up in the sky, amongst the clouds?

As the 767 soars above the sky, my six-year old lifts the window shade looking at the amazing blue around us, with puffs of white clouds scattered like cotton from an old pillow. She looks at me joyfully and asks, “Does God Live Here, Daddy?“

When you are a child, you are likely to believe many a story about the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus or even or where “heaven” is ~ thereby having a distinct impression of where God’s “home” is.  As time passes, and we experience discrete pain, or disappointment – we question many of these beliefs, and come to our own conclusions about the mysteries of the Wishing Well.

As my children grow up, I watch their innocence being washed away, layer by layer – through experiences they have – or, just by watching TV or listening to a friend. Recently, my sixteen-year old asked me if I knew the meaning of Rihanna’s song “S&M”.

As I was growing up, in the black & white TV days in Bangladesh, the world used to be quiet simple. We watched The Saint, Hawaii Five-O, or Star Trek - the bad guys always looked ugly, the good guys looked like they were personally chiseled by God. There was a defined “good” and a “bad” – the world always ended up safe because some valiant person invariably, saved the world. We always went to bed knowing that tomorrow, the world would be safe – because of our parents and all the other good guys, who would ensure that the sun comes up safely and the sky remains blue.

As one grows older, and becomes a parent – and learns that we have to save the world now, and keep it safe every day – it’s quite a responsibility! Every night, I make sure I lock the doors, turn off the outdoor lights – turn on the alarm and go to bed worrying about burglars.

Recently, during a personal crisis, I talk to a therapist about worrying that I am taking many actions on behalf of my children that, I am concerned, may not always be taking the “right” steps. She eloquently tells me, “children don’t come with instruction manuals” and that, I just have to trust my best judgement!

It’s so much easier to make a multi-million dollar decision at work – with Six Sigma data, facts and factoids – advisors and confidants. You look at the rational outcome possibilities – pick the least risky option and wham , a decision is made!

When it comes to life, and your children – you intuitively try your best to make the right decision every time. You try to locate  a home in a good neighborhood so that they have good friends; you try to find the right schools for them; you try to take the right memorable vacations,  that combine both fun and learning.

But at the end, you really don’t know the cumulative outcome, of all those micro decisions. The mysteries of the world have influences on them and even your own complicated, decision-making process. Sometimes, horrible tragedies (like an accident or a disease) overcome us; worldly incidences like job loss, alcoholism or addiction, hinder our thinking process.

At the end of every day, after we have saved the world (the best we can), we come home, jump in the pool, splash around with alligators and mermaids, buy make-belief hamburgers from the make-belief snack-stand, and hope that wherever God lives, she keeps our children safe and healthy. We wish for their eternal happiness – just like our parents did for us.

My dear Shania, I believe, God lives all around us and within us. Wherever she lives, I know God will protect you, even when I am not there.

Searching For Lighthouses: June 2011

Two years ago, my family’s new-year’s card had a saying, “Lighthouses are like good friends. They shine bright whether the sky is blue or grey.  As we pursue our dreams, we search for the beacon that guides us back to our core.” This was accompanied by a beautiful silhouette of the four of us walking towards our Lighthouse.

I had received many comments on this card – and how it reflected the values of our family.

Two years is a long time. Our lives have taken on different texture. Our family composition is changing and we have each become a different person through both success and adversity.

But the lighthouses in my life have remained vigilant – and continuously supportive. The number of calls, emails, Facebook messages I receive every day, from four continents, is sometimes mind boggling.

That’s why, good friends, are so valuable in our lives; like a lighthouse  a friend won’t judge or discriminate against us. During our most difficult times, we can count on our lighthouse friends to be there – looking out for us, showing us the way to safety.

A few weeks ago, I was searching for a place to get away, from all the current chaos of my life. At my therapist’s suggestion, Cape Cod, in Massachusetts, made perfect sense. Surrounded by shimmering blue sea, the cape provides amazing, real Lighthouse “hugging” opportunity.  

What better way to start searching for your own soul than to really look into your friend’s eye – and see a reflection of yourself. I booked myself at a B&B close to Provincetown for a few nights started my journey in earnest.

For three days, I kept walking the streets of little towns, coffee shops and small vegetable gardens, in search of lighthouses and friends.

Cape Cod Lighthouse

At the main Cape Cod lighthouse, I went to the observation deck, where the lighthouse was originally located – and sat there, repeatedly listening to Anoushka Shankar’s “Beloved” on my IPOD; this mesmerizing tune amazingly intermingled my eastern sensibilities with this beautiful western sun, breeze and the blue ocean.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyREq70I9TA&feature=related

So many stories just kept moving through my head!

Breakwater Lighthouse

At the Breakwater Lighthouse, I walked the half mile stones to view this amazing structure sitting next to a small farm-house structure. One has to walk through the thorny sand dunes, to get close to the lighthouse. But when you get there, and look at this lonely structure, at the edge of adversity, innately, you feel safe.

First time in my life, I have taken such an alone vacation; no agendas, no masters – just me, my IPOD and my undiluted curiosity. I was apprehensive about this lonely journey to a new place – where not a soul was known to me – and I had no natural inclinations.

In some ways, these four days freed my soul.

Staring at the Cape Cod lighthouse, I realized that this journey in life is not really that alone. We find companionship in strangers – we seek someone to share our feelings with. However, nature mandates that all we can really find are temporary alliances. Nothing in Life is Permanent, reminds me a childhood friend!

I am grateful to God for giving me so many lighthouses in my life. Starting with a doting family and loving children – friends near and far, that I know will guide me in my difficult times. These Cape Cod memories are attached forever to my sensibilities.

Mumbai Moving: November 2010

I have been traveling to Mumbai for over five years, almost every year, for business. It typically has been a stifling experience. Everywhere I went, it always felt as if the town was congested and stuck in some of sort of a never-ending traffic jam. Also, in the past there were unusually long and disorganized lines, everywhere. This time, the first thing that strikes me, as I land at the Mumbai International Airport, is the relative lack of people. The immigration officers are courteous (no smiles, though) and very prompt. The clearing process takes less than 2 minutes and I am now walking through a large duty-free shopping complex where Black Label seems to be the most popular liquid of choice.

In the past, when I came out of the airport, it felt as if there were a million people out there trying to sell you services or just being entertained by tired, traveling fools. This time, I find that there are only a handful of people at the entrance – and it’s easy to spot my hotel ride.

Thedriver adjusts the temperature, asks me if I want a diet coke, orange juice or mineral water – and informs me that due to some traffic, it may take a few more minutes than the normal 45 minutes journey to our hotel. Guess what, he’s right. It took 50 minutes. However, the traffic kept moving, albeit, sometimes slow, we get there, and the chaos and confusion – seems to be in a moderate lull.

Mumbai is no Shanghai or Dubai with its organized and fast moving traffic. But things don’t feel stuck anymore.

The second thing that strikes me in Mumbai, this time, is that most my meetings start on time.  Almost always, the meeting attendees arrived ahead of schedule; in one instance, one of them was stuck in traffic due to a commemoration parade and he texted me 15 minutes ahead that he maybe 5 minutes late.

While here, I have the opportunity to attend a gorgeous, Bollywood style wedding at some beautiful sea-side locations; even the wedding programs started within thirty minutes of promised time. We have always joked about “Indian Time” – things will start, whenever! I feel in Mumbai, this time around, that there is new-found respect for time. It feels like, that people here are equating time with development and money – and don’t want to waste either.

My hotel is located on the famous Marine Drive, overlooking the Arabian Gulf which is the route Vasco De Gamma and other Portuguese trading traveler, entered the city. While cloud covers welcomed me to Mumbai, the last two days, I enjoy a warm sunshine that shines on the blue Gulf – which was calm – almost like a lake. As I walk the spacious sidewalk, hugging the harbor, its impossible to miss the intensity of emotions and movement around you.

Both the pedestrian and automobile traffic seemed to have purpose, a destination. There is no hesitancy in their eyes. There is a form of kinetic energy that’s contagious in Mumbai. As if, someone has set the people of Mumbai free – and they are moving forward.

Every time I have been in Mumbai, the service, whether at a hotel, restaurant or shop, have been accommodating and courteous. I find the hotel concierges trying to solve my problem; the local store, trying to sell me more souvenirs than I need and the taxi driver always accommodating the special request to stop here or there.

Originating at another side of the subcontinent, these new characteristics of Mumbai make me take notice.

Don’t get me wrong; the large slums are still there. The mold and the mildew on the buildings, the dust – the every-changing construction routes are omnipresent and can be overwhelming at times. However, with the gleaming new sky scrapers, office complexes, beautiful bridges connecting harbors and shopping malls suggest that next time I am back – and all the future times that I will visit this eclectic city, it will look somewhat different.

Timeliness, lack of congestion, exquisite service – coupled with the intent to win, starts at this gateway to India. The mixture of art, fashion, with a strong four-thousand years tradition of trade and commerce – now intermingles with banking, investment and many other sectors.

On my last day, I notice, a man carrying a fragile cargo of trays of fresh eggs on the back of his bicycle while he navigates his way through the traffic. Something tells me, in the next few years, this scene and the bicycle-egg-transporter will likely disappear. In some ways this man is a symbol of Mumbai. Its’ as if the fragile cargo of communally intermingled Mumbai, is being carried along and navigated through its changing landscape – balancing quickly and constantly, so that the wind doesn’t hit too hard and destroy this cargo of life.

There is no doubt that Mumbai is on the move – the question now is how fast and where is it is headed.

Awesome Australia!

The Great Ocean Drive

 

Not sure why I have been drawn to the Australian aspiration for years; never really read much about this land or its people; I have seen a few of those movies from Australia (Rabbit Proof Fence, The Piano) – familiar with a good Shiraz from Southwestern Australia – have watched their athletes carry their flag in the Olympics or at a cricket game. But until now, I have never had any substance to form an opinion on Australia.      

Sidney Opera House

 

What strikes me first, as we land in Sydney, is the welcoming nature of the Australian people. From the first interaction of the polite immigration official,  the gentle taxi drivers, or the servers of our meals at different cities – everyone seems keenly friendly, smiling – not in the plastic way that you see advertised on American TV; you cannot pay everyone in a country to behave this nicely.      

There is something authentic and positive in the people and its landscape – its abundant natural beauty and mineral resources.        

     

The Sydney Bridge - worth the climb

 

Our guide to the Bridge Climb in Sydney – Chris, and the two young women who are part of our team during the Bridge Climb, want us to know more about their land – visit more places. I probe about something negative (like how many people have jumped off the bridge to commit suicide) – and realize that Chris answers without concern: many – but doesn’t dwell on it – keeps moving forward.       

I learn that both the Kangaroo and the Emu – two national symbols of Australia, can only move forward – cannot move backward – symbolic of this relatively young nation – shrugs off its past, and doesn’t hold on to grudges.       

Sydney is truly a beautiful and efficient city. The Opera House (the third most recognized marketing brand in the world: after McDonald’s Golden Arches and the Coke logo) is a truly magnificent structure – any angle you see it from. A forty minute ferry ride on some crystal blue waters, brings you to Manly – the welcome sign says – a thousand miles away from care – reflects the mood of this beach resort. You feel immediately relaxed watching the surf hitting the rocks.       

Our Blue Mountain tour guide, Rob, complains about the tolls he has to pay to get on the Ring Road (AUS$20+) and dominates his conversation with a self depreciating humor. But when it comes to the topic of the Aborigine or the convict settlers, he is both funny and respectful: that’s a tough balance.       

Swimming among some of the most beautiful corals in the Great Barrier Reef, I notice a blue star fish and lots of Nemos. Our snorkeling tour guide shows us five types of Anemones (including the little pink ones), the Brain Reef and other colorful marine life. As the tour guide reminds us that we have to head back to our ship, somehow, I feel sad – unsure that I will have the opportunity to come back to this beautiful place another time; I want to enjoy this marine sanctuary for a few more minutes.        

The Twelve Apostles at Sunset

 

 The drive from Melbourne to see the remaining  rocks of the Twelve Apostles, we drive through little towns like Geelong, where the Ford engine plant produces for the legendary Falcon, a brand that is celebrating 50 years. Here you feel as if you are in a (nicer part) of Michigan. The local pancake house sells a delicious banana caramel pancake that is served up with a generous dose of Australian ice-cream and pleasant conversation.       

For an American visitor, Australia is very much like the US, convenient and friendly, with a slightly punctuated accent and wonderful landscape.       

Target, McDonald’s, Marriott, Starbucks and the morning show on TV, will make you feel very much at home. Even though Australia went through a sudden change of government (to have the first ever female Prime Minister) during our stay, most of the news is dominated by some news from the United States.       

     

Kabab at Brisbane - Better than Istanbul!

 

We find the quality of food, everywhere we have traveled in Aussieland, wonderful. Pancake on the Rocks in Sydney is unforgettable and I go back twice, for the local ice-cream store ICE ROCK for the cake batter flavor. The Dhaba by our Melbourne hotel serves wonderful Indian roadside food – with a flair. Ahmet’s the Turkish Kabab place in Brisbane serves even better Kabab then I have enjoyed in Istanbul.       

This nation loves sports. It’s either the World Cup football (soccer), or cricket, or rugby –Australians simply love sports. However, even after this passion for sports, on the opening night of World Cup, when Australia loses to England 1-0 – the feeling next morning among the Socceroos is nonchalant – there isn’t a big regret in it – just like the Kangaroo or the Emu – Australia just moves forward – we’ll try again tomorrow spirit.      

The skeptic in me questions, is this why you don’t often hear about major technological innovation or significant achievement originating from this rich nation/continent of twenty-four million people? One does not hear about many Noble laureates (ten in the history of this nation) or unique innovative business concepts that are Australian.       

I think the magic of Australia is a little bit different.       

Unlike the puritan spirit of America – where we constantly prove that we are better, faster than others and that we live on a city on a hill – Australia is comfortable with Good Life – taking it all in a stride – No Worries, Mate – no need to prove anything to anybody.       

That’s why it’s so Awesome @ Australia!     

Got my Aussie Kangaroo Hat!

Where My Spirits Live: June 13 2010

Our tour guide introduced me to an Australian Aborigine concept; the Aborigine believed that one’s spirit is connected to the land that they are born. They could never understand how the English traveled thousands of miles to live in a foreign land, thereby never really estimating their need to “conquer” their land.

I have heard similar stories from my paternal grandmother, my Dadi, how she believed that her soul was connected with her land of birth in Kumilla. Even though she lived in Dhaka for most of her life, I have heard the fond stories about her parents’ home in rural Bangladesh.

For many of us, living in lands far away from where we were born, such a statement – sentiment, is both unsettling and disturbing; we search for meaning in the land where we live, but parts of us remain connected to where we were born.

Does this mean that our spirits are fractured? Distributed into many little spirits? Or is it simply that our spirits have lost connection with mother Earth?

Since these are almost impossible questions to answer, using rational facts and figures, one must develop their own hypothesis – paradigm – to give meaning to our existence. One may look at this as another form of rationalization (to fit our needs).

In this lifetime, I believe, I have experienced five different births. 

Of course, there is the physical birth. But it feels as if I was re-born the day I stepped foot in the United States and made this my new home. The day we married, my life took on another new dimension; the day each of our children were born, I became a new person.

Maybe that’s why, I feel happy in all these birthplaces that my life: Columbia, Missouri; Oshkosh, Wisconsin; Toledo, Ohio and Denver, Colorado – in addition to Dhaka, Bangladesh.  

My soul is connected to all these places.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Columbia, Missouri – after almost ten years. On the sunny fall morning, as I drove by Cramer Hall, or walked into Brady Commons, my heart beat faster. I could see myself walking with a backpack, exploring my new gift of life. Like a child learning to play with a new set of blocks. I was instantly happy.  

It’s amazing, how life turns, like a river, in different angles, sometimes abruptly – others, modestly – very rarely with a strategic plan of its own.

Fractured or not, distributed or not, my spirit has been enriched by its five re-births . Like the meandering river of life, my spirit maybe enriched by the dry air of Denver or the moist rainfall of the Erie  – the calm of Lake Winnebago or the simplicity of the Missouri.

I could not have planned the journey of my traveling spirit. I just happened to be there, as the river of my life turned in one direction or another.

It’s difficult to project where exactly this river will meet the ocean; so far, I have been fortunate by its different turns, in beautiful places – surrounded by friends and family that care. When that day arrives, today or tomorrow, I pray, the many layers of my spirit are nourished by the smells, sights, friendships and melodies of its many births and transcends peacefully to (at least) its five places of birth.

Cravings for the Mundane Repetition of Daily Activities

Sitting in yet another crowded airplane, heading home after three days of conference rooms with no windows, my mind craves home.

I slip into my imagination of walking into our kitchen/dinette, as the music on the stereo is comingled with the noise of utensils clanging against pots and pans or, maybe a salad being chopped on our wooden cutting board; our five year old is yet inventing another costume party with her own plastic pots and pans and brings me a cup of tea in her miniature plastic tea cup.

This is my loving home; my warm embrace, my innocuous brush with fate, my solace after any treacherous day. I love coming back home into this sensual cacophony which welcomes me with open arms.

Sitting anywhere, anytime, I can imagine the smells, sounds and embraces of my little piece of heaven.

After a three month hiatus, some of my travel responsibilities have resumed. It’s Washington DC this week; next week I am in Dubai, Saudi Arabia and Bahrain. The following week: Houston. In many roles nowadays, it’s not unusual to have some travel. I do my share.  

Those who don’t have to travel for a living, often think about how “romantic” it is to travel,  from city to city, living in hotel rooms and having to greet complete strangers every day. People ask me about all the great cities I get to see – London, Tokyo, Shanghai, New York, Dubai; often, people tell me how “lucky” I am to have tried so many types of food, wine or coffee. Really.

What one may not realize is that most of these business travels take us from a plane to a hotel to a conference and then a repeat back of the sequence.  Yes, the hotel rooms are comfortable and we do eat at fancy restaurants. However, I am yet to find a hotel room that makes my soul “light up” with harmony and joy. 

In over fifteen years of work/travel experience, I have had a few memorable work related travel trips; once I had the chance to walk the Great Wall of China, twice, in the same week, albeit on a cold and frosty day. The trip was fun because my co-workers were goofy and fun to be with; they bought silly, fur hats with communist insignia and wore them during the whole journey.

Yet another time, I walked the Red Square in Moscow at midnight, with bodyguards and translators in toe. The drive from the Russian customer’s site to the airport, in a bullet proof Mercedes with a driver, who spoke no English and insisted on driving on the yellow striped center median and at over 70 miles/hour during rush hour traffic.  I felt like the unsuspecting victim of a bad mafia movie.

Sometimes, these trips do turn out to be loaded with adrenaline. However, a vast majority of these trips typically constitute of an airport pickup, a business dinner, a clinically bland hotel room followed by restless sleep; next morning, you wake up to your own time zone alarm clock and wonder where you are, followed by learning to adjust the new shower temperature, another bland breakfast, two or three meetings (or one very long and tedious meeting) and then a rush back to the airport to catch a plane back.

With spare time between meetings, sometimes one may take a walk outside on a Paris late afternoon or take a run by the river in Bratislava. But not having the loved ones next to me to show the beautiful blinking lights of the Eiffel Towers after dark or to show the castle on top of the hill in Bratislava – It’s as if I am talking to myself and saying, look, isn’t that beautiful .

After a typically haranguing long day, as soon as I step back on the plane, I feel relieved. I sit down on my designated seat, put on my noise cancelling headset with my selection of music and start my journey back to where I really want to be.

I think about a kissing Daiyaan on the forehead, or reading a story to Shania that evening – and to feel the warmth and love in our kitchen that evening;  I stroll in and pour a nice, full-bodied red in my glass, and intermingle with all the on-going activities. 

I am one step closer to where I want to be. A few more hours.

I count the blessings for the simple pleasures of my repetitive, daily, mundane life.

Elephant on the Move: Inflection Point in Bangladesh: Jan 2010

   

Painting by Goutam Chokroborty

 

There comes a point of time, in the life of a nation, when things are on a path of change; it’s a generational change. It’s a change, both material and psychological, that is different from its previous generations. My visit to Bangladesh this winter only confirmed my feelings about this emerging nation and the inflection point that it is experiencing with chaos and hope, uncertainty and confidence. There is something unprecedented going on here.   

My first interaction with the Bangladesh of 2010, happens on the plane to Dhaka. The “shonar manush” (golden people) that I meet on the plane, on their way back from their work in the Middle East, are different. Five years ago, when I travelled these routes, there was a fear in their eyes; today, I see confidence; they don’t just stand around accepting their fate, they ask questions, help each other and move forward. They have trendy haircuts and wear funky sunglasses to catch a nap; I hear twenty cell phones beep around me, as our planes land on the Dhaka runway.   

Bangladesh receives more than $10 Billion of remittances from 1+ million migrant workers in Middle East, Japan, Malaysia, Brunei and to a lesser degree many EU nations and the United States. They are the lifeblood of this nation. They provide sustenance to every service, production and retail sector in this emerging nation. They are the single largest source of income for this emerging nation.   

Even the airport is expanding with new terminals. The number of airlines queuing to ferry people back and forth to Dhaka has doubled in the last 3 years. The lines through immigration and customs, while cumbersome and illogical, moves ahead.   

At the hotel, the staff is impeccable in their service. Their English is good and they genuinely want to help you to achieve your goals. The rooms are bright and dynamic. The food is extra-ordinary. The car service we use is meticulous in keeping time and flexible beyond comprehension when we want to stay out till 4 am in the morning. Bangladesh, is becoming more of a service oriented nation and a customer service culture is developing more than ever before.   

On the roads and markets, the traffic is incomprehensible. As if nothing moves. But it does. Things do keep moving. We do it make it to the dinner parties (albeit late). Everyone starts dinners around 9 pm.   

While stuck in traffic, I discover the amazing new Radio Phoorti (Fun); one of the tens of new FM radio channels that broadcasts weather, sports, politics, music and traffic: all the ingredients of new Dhaka life. This amazing new media has spawned a great music industry in Dhaka in just over two years. There are now hundreds of music stars and bands coming out every day. In the past, we would go and seek out one or two new bands or musicians every year. This year, there are so many, at the neighborhood CD store, that I couldn’t even count them. Interestingly enough, when I ride with two of my friends (who in the past, listened to western rock bands), they play Bangla music on their CD players. One of them, introduce us to the #1 song in Bangladesh “ Bahir Bole Dure Thakook, Bhitor Boley Ashook Na” (The outside says stay afar, the inside says come closer), a beautiful melody, both symbolic and amazing in its reach.   

Through interactions and coincidences, I meet three new entrepreneurs, in their twenties and thirties; the first one is a twenty something software engineer, graduated from the US and returned home to start a software services company. He tells me about his dream of taking his company public in <5 years. Next, a cousin, tells me about the land he has recently acquired to set up a solar power plant that will supply industries in a certain region of Bangladesh; the third is a couple, who are setting up the first sports bar in Bangladesh in the next sixty days. Their market research on menu options, target marketing concepts, is just amazing. This is the new face of entrepreneurship of Bangladesh that I have never seen in the past. These folks are not stuck with retail or garments or real-estate; they are helping Bangladesh branch out to services and completely new economic activity.   

Upon the advice of a friend, I visit an art gallery in Uttara, with an amazing collection of charcoal and oil on canvass. I acquire a small piece of an emerging artist and view many other great artists. I am most impressed by the work of Goutam Chakraborty, the owner of the gallery. His own series titled: Elephants, has a level of brightness and dynamism, notwithstanding the symbolic nature of the Hindu God of wealth, that is amazingly reflective of the current Bangladesh I see out on the streets.   

I enjoy a cold coffee with a friend at the Coffee World, where wi-fi is free and the waffle-sandwich is amazing. We talk about emerging HR trends in this nation. Everywhere, I notice hope, prosperity, anxiety and dexterity. As if the nation is shrugging off its brooding past and looking forward to an amazing future.   

Of course, not everything is perfect. But in my lifetime, never has everything been perfect in this land. Roads have always been congested, there has always been poverty, and corruption and some religious zealotry. But overall, as I talked to people in the markets, and streets, I feel a palpable sense that things are moving forward. I hear lamentations from my business friends that there is no support from the government; in fact the government is instigating the laborers for more wages. When I attend the different rooftop parties with live bands and free-flowing booze, Manolo Blahnic shoes and bright red Tandoori ovens… I am not certain that I can fully agree with my rich friends lamentations.   

Elephantine or not, Bangladesh is on the move. Things are changing. The young crowd, the generation which has grown up post the military juntas of the 80s, is changing this nation forever. Global Warming maybe changing its coastline, but, I see hope in the ambition that the problems here will be solved by the people here, not necessarily by the consultants of the treacherous multi-lateral lending institutions.   

I look forward to visiting this land again. When Ieft twenty five years ago, things were dismal in its view; I never anticipated seeing the changes that I see today. At the doorstep of 2010, I envision Bangladesh as a Middle Income Country in 2015 and beyond. The Elephant is moving forward.