We had so much fun riding the rickshaws to the hospital earlier in the day, we all hopped on the rickshaws accumulated on the hospital grounds. Fran Fisher, the head nurse, and I shared a seat. We realized after awhile that none of our fellow teammates were anywhere to be seen, but there was so much traffic that we weren’t unduly alarmed. Our poor rickshaw driver had a bicycle that was obviously a bit worse for wear and it was clear that we were quite a burden to carry. More modern rickshaws kept whizzing past us. At times, our poor driver was forced to get off the bike and push it. As the minutes ticked past, we began to wonder where we were. The street scenes were quite unfamiliar, but we figured that he probably knew a shortcut. Just in case, we began to repeat “Sheraton Hotel”; each time he nodded, smiled and repeated “Sheraton.”
Suddenly we were in the middle of a market. Animals for sale in cages, clothes, fruit and vegetables, fish and poultry. And the traffic became especially heavy—we experienced quite a few near misses with taxis and other rickshaws. Fran and I finally figured that we were quite lost. We once again emphatically repeated Sheraton Hotel. The passenger in the rickshaw next to us seemed to understand what we were saying and said something to our driver. He appeared puzzled. Luckily a policeman was on the corner and he asked him for directions. We were off course by quite a few streets and the policeman stopped traffic so that our driver could find his way back. Fran and I had a great adventure, but unfortunately, the rest of the team was in quite a panic when we didn’t turn up at the hotel. They were back within 10 minutes. It took us an hour. We decided at that point that each volunteer would always carry the name of the hotel in Bengali. As in many Asian cultures, it is impolite to say "no" or "I don’t know" in Bangladesh.