It's obvious the transportation methods are blowing my mind in this country. The way things work around here are entertaining and provide a pretty well rounded cultural experience. One phenomenon that I have recently become acquainted with are rickshaw rides. Rickshaws is basically a third world country pedi-cabs only on single speed bikes from the early 80s and a carriage that's actually attached to the bike which holds its passengers. They're pretty ornate and their bells harmonize with then incessant honking. I'm sure you'll know what I'm talking about if you've ever watched the travel channel or Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom (that rickshaw might have been pulled by a dude, but the concept and sweet Dr. Jones reference are still there). Taking a rickshaw is an easy and cheap way to travel short distances around the city. A five to ten minute rickshaw ride costs less than $1. It's absurd considering I know some pedi-cabbers in Austin that had some $50 rides during South By.
The rickshaw drivers (peddlers?) are some of the skinniest men I've ever seen in my life. They're not emaciated, just muscular from working out all day. I don't think female rickshaw drivers exist. They might, I've never seen one and I think it's highly unlikely. The presence of men in Dhaka is just greater than women in general... but I digress. We can cover that topic later on.
Internship day one, myself and two other interns decide that we are going to take a rickshaw to BRAC. No one speaks Bangla, the language of the land, but somehow we manage to get across our need to get to BRAC. Being that no one in our threesome had ever been on a rickshaw, we didn't fully understand exactly how we were going to fit three people on one. The carriages can comfortably fit two if you're cool with eliminating your own personal space bubble. So we did what any family does with an extra person; you put that person on someone else's lap. And guess who got to be the Nancy sitting pretty on top...yours truly.
Ultimately that would have been fine if Dhaka's roads were in better condition and the rickshaw driver didn't have to weave through traffic. I was precariously placed on the lap of one of the interns, nearly falling off at every bump or sharp turn. Needless to say, I became instantly close with the two other interns I had just met within the previous 24 hours. Eventually we made it to BRAC University which is a block or two from BRAC Center(where we needed to be) so we counted it as a mild success, got off and paid more than we should have. I felt okay paying a little more just because it had been three of us and I really wanted to focus on the small victory of just getting there without falling off.
The next day, we took another rickshaw. When I handed the guy his money, he demanded more. We danced back and forth between his price and my price. During this short duet, other rickshaws were gathering around interested in the debate. I don't know if the rickshaw dude finally gave in or if I gave in because I was not having the band of rickshaw brothers coming after me, so we met in the middle. I still paid more than I should have according to my Bengali homies.
Naturally there's no fixed fee for these rides. You're supposed to negotiate beforehand so that you and the driver agree on a price for the service. What I've experienced is that there's a tax for being a foreigner and they love taking advantage of little ol' me. I typically ask the Bengali interns how much a ride should cost between the two locations I'm going before I begin traveling. Most of the rides, they say, should be around 30 Taka which is like forty cents. The several times I've attempted to negotiate the price, I've been relatively "successful". Meaning I managed to negotiate a lower price but they're still getting a good deal out of me. Some rickshaws want to take you places because they know you can pay them more more than they'd make otherwise. I think rickshaws benefit from the sympathy card once people really understand how little they're working for. This results in an excessive payment for a short ride and the foreigner walking away feeling better about her/himself for having improved someone's life by a dollar. In reality, all we've taught the rickshaw guy to do is overcharge the shit out of foreigners. What's cool is that some rickshaws refuse to take foreigners altogether because they don't want to deal with you. So they get to decide who, when and how they do their thing. Oh the autonomy and struggles that come with owning a small business. Can I even call it that?
The Bengali people I've met always tell me I've paid too much when I'm just trying to count the small victory of surviving the ride over. They say it's part of the culture and that I just need to do it. I get it, culture, I'm happy to follow suit. However, sometimes it just feels wrong to argue over a ten cent difference with a man who works ten hours days for change. I'd rather just pay the extra ten cents to not get into it with the dude. But then I'm just perpetuating the "foreigner tax" model. This clearly is not the worst catch 22 anyone's ever been in.
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