www.theblisspages.com - travel: Bangladesh
www.theblisspages.com - travel: Bangladesh
My main memories of Bangladesh are people, throngs of people. When I was driving around, or rather, being driven around, people were everywhere, working in fields, mending the roads, hanging off buses. I feel a bit claustrophobic just thinking about it, but everyone was friendly and helpful.
I usually got a pedal-powered rickshaw to the office in Dhaka, but the anti-malarial drug I was on made me feel nauseous and I was constantly in fear that I would throw up on the unfortunate rickshaw-driver. I'm pleased to say I never did, though.
The high-voltage wires above the office had lured a large bat to its doom, and I could chart my stay by the slow but inexorable decomposition of the unfortunate creature.
Dhaka's premier attraction is Lalbagh Fort, an unfinished fort dating from 1678 located in the Old City. The National Museum is north of the Old City in the old European zone known as Modern City. I gather it has fascinating displays of Bangladesh's Hindu, Buddhist and Moghul past, art and handicrafts, but I didn't have time to visit.
During a free weekend, I had the chance of a river trip on a Dhow, which was most enjoyable.
On the way, I saw a load of young children and old men and women hammering patiently at bricks, breaking them into small pieces for use in road-building. It was sobering to realise that labour was so cheap that this backbreaking work was both cost-effective and an important source of income for the workers, young and old.
I found some Iyengar yoga classes in Dhaka and attended them several times. To get there, I used a tuk-tuk - a three-wheeled vehicle common in many countries - and still remember one somewhat hairy journey to yoga. We were in a six-lane highway, in the third lane from the left. Traffic in Dhaka has a somewhat cavalier approach to lane discipline, but I was aghast to see traffic approaching towards us on both sides of our flimsy vehicle in all the other lanes. The driver seemed nonchalant enough, and we escaped unscathed, but I was perhaps not in the most relaxed state when we arrived at the classes.
The classes were good, but somewhat different from the Iyengar classes to which I was used in England. First was a twenty-minute vigorous warm-up - and the temperature was already in the thirties. Dripping with sweat from our spinning and jumping, we started the classes. A fusion of Iyengar and Ashtanga yoga was most invigorating and enjoyable, even though I suspect BKS would not have approved. I went there several times over three trips to Dhaka, and it was great to find somewhere where I could practice my yoga sutras in a class during my travels - it didn't happen very often.
My last memory of Dhaka was when I was in transit on a journey from Thailand. The journey was memorable for all the wrong reasons. I had been horrified on the outward leg of the journey when my travelling companion got out her book on the airport concourse - Salmon Rushdie. This was when the furore about 'Midnight Children' was at its height, and whilst there were riots on the streets in many Muslim countries, including Bangladesh .
On the return leg, first our journey was delayed in Bangkok for twenty-four hours, necessitating us to travel back from the airport to find some cheap, last-minute accommodation. All I will say about that was that is the first time I've seen mirrors on the ceiling.
When we got to Dhaka, we were kept waiting for nearly another day, and finally found out the reason - the President was travelling to France to meet Francois Mitterand and had commandeered the plane. After being sent to a hotel outside the airport and given a meal, we went to bed, only to be roused a couple of hours later to be rushed back to the airport.
Amid scenes of complete chaos, our suitcases were searched - once someone had been sent home to fetch the correct batteries for the bomb-sniffing equipment. We then had to lug the suitcases to the other side of the hall, where we were on trust to say that our cases had been checked. I'm sure any terrorists would have been scrupulously honest, so felt very reassured!
When we saw the red carpet and plants being laid up to the steps of the plane, we knew we wouldn't take off until it got light, and so it transpired. It was amusing to see that women with children had been seated at the back of the plane, then Bangladeshi men, then westerners, and finally the President's entourage, away from the noise. The food was the best I'd had on Biman Bangladesh airlines, but the unscheduled stopover in Dubai was an unwelcome surprise - only the presidential party was allowed to disembark for some duty-free shopping - as was the diversion to Paris to allow the president to meet with Mitterand, but the razzmatazz was fun: more red carpets and pot plants in brass tubs, not to mention the fly past and brass band.
After a fifty-four hour journey, we arrived home - and our last surprise was food-poisoning from the food we'd been given in a hotel in Dhaka.
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: © Mike Bliss 2011