Date: Sun, 1 Oct 2000 08:38:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jay Schneider
Subject: 7 Years in Tibet
If this is the second time you’re getting this, oops!
I often start these mass-mails out with some sort of comment that this is the English version, which I’m sure impresses friends and family back home who immediately assume that I also send out a Japanese version, every bit as detailed, moving and witty as this list (humor me here, and concede me this point). Well, I should come clean that I do NOT in fact grace my non-English-speaking Japanese friends with such sure-to-be-classic-one-day literature. Any Japanese friend who speaks even the slightest bit of English receives this same bit (and upon reading it, are convinced they can’t understand English at all–“That’s okay,” I say, “my English-speaking friends don’t understand me either”). That’s not to say I ignore my friends in Japan. But my Japanese messages are usually the English equivalent of this:
Hi! Now, I’m at Bangkok. Fun. Food’s good. Tomorrow, I go Cambodia. Fun times I am enjoying, aren’t we? Jay
And now, on with the English version, which I have this time titled “7 years in Tibet”…
I just finished reading Heinrich Harrer’s “7 years in Tibet,” and in my journey to Bangladesh, I felt I was living what I’d just read. Of course, it wasn’t 7 years in Tibet, it was more like 13 hours in Bangladesh. And I wasn’t an escaped, German POW, looking for political asylum. And instead of trekking and climbing through the mountains for almost two years before reaching the capital, I took a plane in about 2 hours. And I didn’t have to sneak in, be threatened on numerous occasions to leave, and beg and plead to be allowed to stay–I was quite welcomed to come. And I didn’t befriend any god-king such as the Dalai Lama, but the shotgun-toting guard at the airport and I did exchange a brief glance, and well…I think we really shared something there. And of course when I make my movie version, I don’t think Brad Pitt will play me, I’ll play myself, thank you very much.
So how’d I get this far, you may ask? (oh wait, I already told you I took a plane) still, let’s back up a bit. I was preparing to bid farewell to Bangkok (yet again). I don’t know how to explain it, why I am forever drawn to this city, what keeps me coming back. Perhaps it’s the canals and rivers which are the streets and boulevards of the city. Maybe it’s the non-stop action and lights of a city that never sleeps. Then again, it could be my safety deposit box which has all my money. Whatever the reason, I knew while being tossed around in the back of an airport-bound mini-bus as the maniacal driver swerved through traffic, I knew I’d return. Someday (before my money runs out and I need to get more).
I arrived at the airport a couple of hours before my flight was due to depart, hungry, and in need of a toilet. I don’t know why I felt it was necessary to share all that with you. You can imagine my delight when I discovered my flight was delayed 2 1/2 hours. At least I had a good book, there was internet access, and….pizza! I can’t begin to describe the feelings I was experiencing as I bit into that first slice, my first slice of such kind of pizza in about a year and a half (A YEAR AND A HALF, for the love of GOD!). Yes, there is pizza in Japan, but…well…it’s not that I don’t like corn and mayo on my pizza, it’s just that…well there’s just something about American-style, greasy pizza. Sitting in the airport Pizza Hut, I embraced the man next to me. Although he didn’t seem to appreciate my tears on his shoulder or the blowing of my nose on his new silk tie, he seemed to understand I was having a moment (of insanity) and failed to give me a beating (he did, however, give me his tie.)
The flight was bouncy. and I don’t mean caused by air turbulence. As we rolled down the runway for take-off, I had flashbacks of the great Cambodian highways. To distract myself, I read in in-flight magazine, and appreciated the letter from the President of the airline explaining his goals for the next year would be to have flights run on time, and improve the professionalism of the employees. Best of luck, I thought as the dinner tray was tossed on my lap, and a can of warm soda thrust into my hand.
There were 7 of us with the stop-over deal. 2 of us managed to slip through customs (just keep walking) in search of our bags, before later realizing we weren’t supposed to have slipped through customs, and worked our way to a special desk where they took our passports and arranged for out transportation to the designated hotel (included in our ticket deal). We watched the bats fly round the waiting area, and a sense of togetherness developed among us. 3 Japanese one American (me), 1 Norwegian, and 2 Germans, some heading for London, others Delhi, or Kathmandu. Different nationalities, different destinations, but one thing we shared: cheap-ass tickets.
Bangladesh air, I love you!
Because of the delay of the flight, and the delay of, well, quite frankly I don’t know, we sat in the waiting room forever, by the time I actually bedded down, it was 3 a.m. (those going to Delhi had an 8 A.M. flight!). The van would pick us up at 11:00 a.m., and we were free to walk around and explore the neighborhood. I woke up around 8 (nature calling) and saw my roommates asleep. I felt like I needed another 10 hours of sleep, but I was in Bangladesh, and I certainly wasn’t going to miss a chance, even for a quick stroll around the block, no mater how tired…the phone rang at 10, informing us that breakfast was served, so we all ate, showered, packed and loaded in the van to the airport.
Bangladesh, I’ll never forget you!
Note: I’ve been having some technical difficulties, so sometimes you may receive messages twice (or three times, four times, not at all) because the first time my server told me it was unsuccessfully sent. Anyhoo, Apologies for overflowing inboxes needlessly…