VSO envy

As a VSO volunteer, it’s nice to have a network of other VSO volunteers who are serving in different countries. It’s nice to hear how they’re getting on, compare notes on the frustrations of daily life as a volunteer, and bitch about programme offices (only occasionally, of course…).

It’s nice, that is, until you see their photos of nights out in clubs in Phnom Penh, or hear tales of weekends spent on golden beaches in Mombasa, or read tweets about lunchtime swims in Vanuatu. Then, a small, mean part of you thinks: you’ve drawn a dud hand.

It’s not that I don’t like Bangladesh. I do like it in many ways, and there’s a lot of good things about working here. But there’s a definite shortage of night clubs, golden beaches and ocean swimming. Not that these things are essential, of course, but they would be nice every now and again.

I mean, yes, we have our occasional big nights out, our occasional house parties. We even do tequila slammers if we’re feeling particularly racy.

But, sometimes, I just can’t shift the niggling feeling that I’m missing out on something. Even the ‘most hardcore’ prize that we’ve modestly awarded ourselves here feels like a hollow accolade at times. (Apparently, someone once said that if you can live in Bangladesh and survive it, you can live anywhere in the world. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard this amongst the expat community, but it doesn’t really feel like compensation anymore).

Ah well, enough moping around. I’d better get back to my wild night of chopping vegetables and cooking rice in the dark. Rave on, rave on.