OK_ I will confess, I was not "officially" in Bangladesh... I was on a flight on BIMAN, the Bangladesh airline on a flight to Nepal. There was an overnight stopover in a guesthouse in Dhakka,( compliments of the airline) to be transferred to the next flight in the morning. We ( the passengers and me) were put up in a guesthouse in a small road in a residential neighbourhood in Dhakka, not far from the airport. Since we were not officially stamped through by immigration, nor did we have Bangladeshi visas, we were not officially allowed to go around anywhere except inside the guesthouse. We were served a simple dinner and breakfast, but I especially enjoyed the milk tea, which I asked the waiter for seconds; he grudgingly made me a second cup.
From my room window I could see all the action from the small busy road below. Horse-drawn rickshaws with intricate decorations around the rickshaw- even the horse had its own "uniform"! Other rickshaws were the peddling variety, but the man was not decorated in a fancy uniform! I stood by the window for a long time that evening with my eyes being entertained by the busy commotion of things passing by, my nose being entertained by the smoky smells of things burning, as well as other mysterious odours wafting through the window. There was a strict and ferocious looking guard at the door preventing people from going in or out of the guesthouse.
In the morning, after sleeping soundly and after having so much tea, and other sweets which I had in my bag, I was feeling a bit restless and used to having morning walks, I was anxious to know more about the area we were in. The morning guard at the door looked a bit friendlier and younger. With a meek, sweet smile, and polite sweet words, I managed to cajole the guard to allow me a " ten minutes only" walk around the street. Dodging the rickshaws sharing the space,I walked down the small dusty alley like road our guesthouse was on, and approaching a large busy thoroughfare and turned the corner onto it. I saw many men wearing sarongs flowing as they hurried past, some saronged men on bicycles stumbling into holes in the road, other rickshaws and cars all competing for space. So many eyes were on me as if I were some weird alien who just landed in my spaceship. I spotted a modern looking , air conditioned variety shop and decided to go inside and have a look at what the average Bangladeshi would buy, the prices of things and what the local tastes were. Having only a few Euros in my pocket and no Takkas, the local currency, resulted in me just window shopping.
Turning around back towards from where I had came from ( I have an absolutely HORRIBLE sense of direction!) worried about getting lost, I came back to the small road the guesthouse was on. Hoping to quickly slip past the guesthouse to see what was going on at the other side of this street, the guard in the guesthouse waved me down, gesturing that my time was up. Returning to the guesthouse and finding all the other passengers preparing to board the van, I also readied myself for departure in a few minutes. Having a small opportunity to get a "blink" of Dhakka, and Bangladesh has wet my appetite to, hopefully, return again to see what was on the other side of that street, as well as on other side streets and other places in Bangladesh!
From my room window I could see all the action from the small busy road below. Horse-drawn rickshaws with intricate decorations around the rickshaw- even the horse had its own "uniform"! Other rickshaws were the peddling variety, but the man was not decorated in a fancy uniform! I stood by the window for a long time that evening with my eyes being entertained by the busy commotion of things passing by, my nose being entertained by the smoky smells of things burning, as well as other mysterious odours wafting through the window. There was a strict and ferocious looking guard at the door preventing people from going in or out of the guesthouse.
In the morning, after sleeping soundly and after having so much tea, and other sweets which I had in my bag, I was feeling a bit restless and used to having morning walks, I was anxious to know more about the area we were in. The morning guard at the door looked a bit friendlier and younger. With a meek, sweet smile, and polite sweet words, I managed to cajole the guard to allow me a " ten minutes only" walk around the street. Dodging the rickshaws sharing the space,I walked down the small dusty alley like road our guesthouse was on, and approaching a large busy thoroughfare and turned the corner onto it. I saw many men wearing sarongs flowing as they hurried past, some saronged men on bicycles stumbling into holes in the road, other rickshaws and cars all competing for space. So many eyes were on me as if I were some weird alien who just landed in my spaceship. I spotted a modern looking , air conditioned variety shop and decided to go inside and have a look at what the average Bangladeshi would buy, the prices of things and what the local tastes were. Having only a few Euros in my pocket and no Takkas, the local currency, resulted in me just window shopping.
Turning around back towards from where I had came from ( I have an absolutely HORRIBLE sense of direction!) worried about getting lost, I came back to the small road the guesthouse was on. Hoping to quickly slip past the guesthouse to see what was going on at the other side of this street, the guard in the guesthouse waved me down, gesturing that my time was up. Returning to the guesthouse and finding all the other passengers preparing to board the van, I also readied myself for departure in a few minutes. Having a small opportunity to get a "blink" of Dhakka, and Bangladesh has wet my appetite to, hopefully, return again to see what was on the other side of that street, as well as on other side streets and other places in Bangladesh!
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