A trip to Muktagatcha was how Patrick and I spent our Friday holiday. After Bangla class we headed to the bus station and somehow found a very nice bus. We also managed to communicate to them where we were going. This was interesting as I know the most Bangla, but since Patrick was the man they would try to converse with him. (Rebecca has said that there have been occasions when she would tell a driver where to go and the driver would not give a hint of recognition to her. Then Phil would quietly say what she had just said and the driver would immediately understand.) Communication was interesting nonetheless. We were dropped off close to the road where Jerry and Ethel live now and where I will soon live. It is out in the country and there are no definite landmarks, but we arrived very hot and hungry. We had lunch with Jerry and Ethel, and spent the rest of the afternoon visiting with them and their Korean neighbors. A large package with my four new shalvar camijes had arrived that I had taken to the tailor in Dhaka. I also received many birthday cards from both Grandparents, Abby, the Tenglers, the Paynes, and a postcard from Abby. They were all very unique/special/funny in their own way. When it was starting to get dark, Patrick and I decided to make our exit. This proved to be a bit of a challenge as we didn't really know where the bus station was. Jerry and Ethel's house is between Muktagatcha and Calabari, so we headed to Calabari by vangari (a bicycle pulled flat wagon) since it is closer to their house, but further from Mymensingh. In Calabari we found the "bus station" where there were a few maxis (a pickup truck with a enclosed back with four small benches that each seat four people each). I tried to ask some guy where the maxi to Mymensingh was, but I think he thought I was asking where I was. He said Calabari, and then said that he would take me to Mymensingh for 500 taka. I just laughed, because the actual fare is around 20 taka. He did help us find the right maxi and we crowded onto the back of the truck with 15 other people for a very crowded, bumpy, hot ride back to Mymensingh.

On Saturday Jerry and Ethel came to Mymensingh to use the internet. This was there first time here and they didn't know where anything was - except for the map that I had drawn. They managed to find the internet cafe, but were wandering the streets of Cachajuly trying to find Taize. Some kind boy found them and told their rickshaw wallah where to go.

Since I had no class on Sunday, I rested and then rescued Patrick from the Taize boys who wanted help with their English homework. We got coffee at a "fast food" restaurant, and then went to mass. Mass was held in a beautiful big church. Men sat on one side and women on the other. The only people I knew were boys, so I thought that I would have to sit alone. A girl from England is here for a week, so I had a friend when she showed up at mass. The entire service was in Bangla, but I don't think that they were following the book like they do in the U.S. It was more like scripture reading, songs, and the priest speaking.

This morning Patrick came by to say that class was cancelled as Ms. Nath is sick. I was overjoyed, but I hope that Ms. Nath recovers soon. The sooner I learn Bangla the better.