Bangladesh – The Land of Bengal

If you fall in love with Pakistan, I think you will like Bangladesh. After all, Bangladesh was East Pakistan before 1971. Unlike Pakistan where mountain and desert rule most of the country, East Pakistan is blessed with indefinite fertile land and green river delta. Most of the areas are flat and agriculture is flourishing. With the Brahmaputra and the Ganges running through the heart land of the country, like the Nile in Egypt, serving as the very lifeblood of the country, myriad life flourishes. The panorama of river life here is fascinating and the river of life here is truly multi-dimensional. One can see hundred of boats, from country boat, launch, paddle steamer, fishing boat, sand barge, cargo ship, oil tanker to multi-towered ferry capable of bringing hundreds of people, all float down to the Bangladesh rivers. Triple-towered ferry leer over thousands of ant-like country boats; home-made houseboats bump off the dirty hulks of domineering cargo, often with only an inch called the clearance. In fact, the rocket steamer I boarded hit the triple-towered ferry during its take-off, just like that, yes, just like that.

The river of life is multi-dimensional

The panorama above water is fascinating

According to unofficial report, there are approximate 500,000 rickshaws paddling along the crazy mazes and alleyways all over Bangladesh. It is quite a scene especially in Old Dhaka where you will most likely be trapped in a sea of rickshaws and engulfed by its chaos, if not the charm. Nothing seems to stand still. All cycle-rickshaw-wallah are skinny to the extent that it is hard to find any fat on them. It is no doubt a hard job. Nostalgia aside, there have been more and more rickshaws being equipped with battery now, making the entire ride much more easy. Having said that, Dhaka could still be the last remaining place where cycle-rickshaw is still widely used as a medium of transportation.

Sea of rickshaws is choking the already choked traffic in Old Dhaka

I have been to many Islamic countries in the world. In a Muslim society like most parts of Bangladesh, starting a conversation with anyone on the street is so easy and spontaneous that one does not need to think much. This never stops to impress me.

There are millions of Bangladeshi in my country. Having said that, I do not want to associate that with my encounters here. I don’t want to have prejudice or unfair perception towards them.

Bangladesh isn’t a laid back country and may not be suitable for the faint-hearted. Foreign tourists are almost non-existent here. I had to admit that if I'm to dance to its beats, I’ll be overwhelmed or succumbed to it. Nevertheless, it did accelerate me into the shape of backpacking in some ways. Perhaps it has been too fast.

I’m still adjusting myself towards the right rhythm of hitting the road.

Al.laa ha.fez!

Boarding The Rocket Steamer

It wasn’t until I reached Badamtoli Ghat that I was told there is no rocket steamer today. Next service would be Saturday as tomorrow is Friday – a day off for the steamer. This is so frustrating. I tried to argue why I was not told when I did my reservation earlier. The guy attending to me in earlier day was so certain that he asked me to come to the office at 3.30pm to collect the ticket. He even put my name in the log book. And I was happy to have arrived at their office at 3.30pm sharp.

So there is no rocket steamer today.

Luxury triple-towered ferry

However, I was told that there is a larger, more modern and luxury triple-towered ferry, with similar cabin, if not of better class, departing to Hularhat today. If I insisted on taking the rocket steamer, that means I had to stay in Dhaka for the next two days. This is so frustrating! I really didn’t want to stay in Dhaka. Enough is enough. I had enough with Dhaka, especially with all the frantic honk and frenzy traffic. It is always incredibly crowded, noisy and chaotic, day and night. The honk in Dhaka is something that you have no way to stay away. First, it is an intro, then it is a nuisance.

After clearing my head, I decided to wait. Catching this hundred years old steamer has been one of the reasons I come to Bangladesh. I do not want to miss this.

It was only revealed later that the Rocket departing from Dhaka has been reduced to four times a week – Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Wednesday.

Boarding the P. S. Lepcha!

What a heap of rustic junk!

Rocket steamer is a vintage paddle-wheel steamer which has been travelling along Bangladesh’s rivers since 20^th century. It is called ‘Rocket’ because the maritime relic used to be the fastest vessel on Bangladesh rivers hundred or so years ago. Ironically, they could be the slowest vessel on Bangladesh rivers today. Only four steamers remain in service today. There are no longer powered by steam but diesel.

It is a classic cruising that has to be done.

Three Little Weirdo

Finally I saw foreigners on my way to Azad Products. They were two Chinese – S and Q who were happily savoring pomelo on the street. It had been awhile since I see foreigners in the airport. In fact it was just less than a week but it felt so long. I bet they also think the same and it turned out to be true. Apparently they also ran into each other and decided to travel together. I asked them why they would come to Bangladesh. Their answer is unsurprising - they have been to many countries except Bangladesh. They claimed that whoever comes to Bangladesh must be a weirdo. I smiled.

I was told that there are more and more Chinese backpackers travelling around the world nowadays. While the Chinese usually call backpacking as ‘having fun’, their way of travelling is actually quite multi-dimensional to me. Two of them have been couchsurfing and their encounters with the local are more interesting. I had been couchsurfing during On the Road 1.0 too. While it is the easiest way to mingle with the local and learn about their custom and culture, one usually needs to compromise his/her freedom. Well, for a day or two. This always makes me hesitant and reluctant. Anyway, I think this serves as a timely eye-opener for me especially to my way of travel which is generally dull, monotonous and unsurprising. I need to be more open and flexible.

Three little weirdo, Dhaka, Jul'19

It was really a fulfilling meet, if not too short, with the two Chinese. Otherwise, I couldn’t imagine how to kill the time for the two days being stranded in Dhaka because of the Rocket Steamer.

Biased Understanding

First, it kind of surprising me when I learnt that the dumb phone is still very dominant in the market here. Almost everyone here is using it. I wondered why nobody is using the smart phone which has become a must in other countries. Isn’t that a sign of behind?

It wasn’t until I stepped into Snigdha class of train from Chittagong to Dhaka that I realized most of my first observation towards Bangladeshis are superficial in its entirety. This is a typical example of lack of judgement when you only see one side of the country. It must have been due to my way of travelling which rely on public transportation to move around or I must have been spending too much time with the lower class which eventually led to a biased understanding. Perhaps, I'm too local in some way. In fact, everyone in the train is using smart phone. Most has good command in English.

Welcome to the middle class.

As a traveler, I find it hard not to judge even though my visit is short here. I should probably visit north Dhaka which is said to be where all the middle class lives so as to have a better understanding on Bangladesh.

Ship Breaking Yards

Have you ever wondered where would all the super tankers and ocean liners end up eventually? They all end up in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Turkey.

Because of one photo I saw in the May 2014 issue of National Geographic magazine, I make myself here in the industrial town of Bhatiary where tens of thousands of ships, from country boats to super tankers and ocean liners, moored ashore waiting to be dismantled. It is surreal and spectacular indeed.

(National Geographic Magazine photo)

(National Geographic Magazine photo)

Chittagong is home to the world’s second largest ship breaking yard in the world.

It has been a highly controversial issue here as child labors have purportedly been used extensively to break the ship, piece by piece, where they will be recycled to manufacture steel and rebars for the construction industry. The industry has received extensive coverage followed by brickbat in the press in the past over the possible child abuse and violation of human right.

It is this very same reason that makes visiting the yards now even more difficult, let alone photographing it.

Having said that, I still wanted to try my luck. So I took a local bus to the town of Bhatiary and started to wander around the neighborhood on foot. I went to a few ship breaking yards. Expectedly, none of them granted me a visit. In fact, they have been very wary of visitors like me. The guards would spot you from afar and the next moment you see is they quickly braced themselves and shut their main gate right away. It is not possible to even peep into it as the entire yard is surrounded by high wall with barbed wires.

Too bad I have no photos to show you here except some I took on the road.

Some lifeboats stranded on river bank waiting to be recycled (Check out the one from Kuching!)

Some lifeboats can be traced as far as Panama

Seven(Now Eight) Layer Tea

Seven Layer Tea (Can you spot the layers?)

Now even Eight Layer is available

The One

Bangladeshi must have adopted people-based management.

First, there is the one in the hotel I stayed has the WIFI password. I was told to wait for his shift to get it. When I asked again the next morning, the other guy on duty said the one wasn’t in. Until now, I haven’t seen the one and I haven’t got the password. The WIFI is so precious that it needs to be guarded like this.

Second, there is the one in-charge of selling rocket steamer ticket. I walked to the BIWTC head office at Motijheel this morning. I thought I can easily get the ticket but I ended up getting lost in the so-called commercial district of central Dhaka. After wandering around Motijheel troubling more and more people, I finally reached the head office which is hidden off the main street. However, I wasn’t allowed to go in. They asked me to go Bangla Moto. What or who the hell is this Bangla Moto? I didn’t want to spend my whole day searching for this Bangla Moto. I relented and decided to get the 2^nd class ticket which was told to be able to get at Badamtoli which is 3 km away near the dirty Buringa river dotted with ghats.

Cycle-rickshaw jam

It wasn’t until I spoke to the person at Badamtoli office that every puzzle of information formed the full picture – I need to find the one called Mr. J to get the ticket. The one wasn’t in BIWTC head office when I dropped by at Motijheel this morning. He was at Bangla Moto. That was the reason I was told to go to Bangla Moto. Hahaha. Poor me to have thought that the head office has been relocated to Bangla Moto.

So, technically you need to find the one – the right person. Even if you get to the right office or counter but the right person is not there, you can’t get your stuff. What a hide and seek game. Hahaha.

Old Dhaka

Filthy, muddy, stinky, messy are all fair words to describe Old Dhaka.

People spit everywhere. You have to be cautious when you brush shoulders with others on the street so much so to avoid their spit. A guy sat behind me on the bus from Dhaka to Sreemangal spitted every one or so minutes. In fact, they are so much into spitting that there is bin in the room as well as along the corridor in the guesthouse for this purpose. It is really considerate. Hahaha.

Do Not Spit. Use me

Banks are really abundant here. Regardless of the size, one can easily spot at least a few of them in a row of shops. The economy here must be very competitive. Perhaps I should consider working here.

Despite being deprived of sleep the previous night, I still walked almost 30 km wandering around Dhaka without my awareness. The unceasing honk and frantic traffic is something that you shouldn’t underestimate. It successfully deprived my sleep this morning despite me being tired and exhausted. I stayed in a pokey room at 4^th floor second to the one facing the street. The chaotic traffic was felt like just next to me. I was completely engulfed by the chaos of Old Dhaka. 

Sadarghat, Jul'19

Dhaka may not for the faint-hearted. I told myself I don’t have to move to its beat or prove anything. I really need to tune down my pace. I still have long way to go. The journey ahead is the highlight. Bangladesh is just a transit point.

First Night, On the Street

By the time I walked out the airport, it was already 3am. A genuine wee hour. I couldn’t make up my mind whether to stay overnight at the airport or take an Uber to the hotel. Bangladesh isn’t a country really open for tourism. What if the hotel door is locked? There is little here that can be described as organized. I was drained and exhausted and so I chose the latter thinking at least there is a bed I can lie down.

It turned out that I have made a careless choice.

All my thought for worst scenario turned out to be real.

The hotel reception is on third floor. The door at ground floor leading to upstairs was locked. I tried to bang the door or whatever that can generate louder noise but in vain. Nobody can hear me, even the homeless on the street. Then, it started to rain. By the way, it is rainy season in Bangladesh now.

Despite the rain, I decided to walk to another hotel in the dark. Still, I failed to locate it – another unwise decision. Sometimes, do nothing is the best decision. So I walked back to the first hotel and let myself stranded outside the locked gate, watching Bangladeshis loading and unloading all kinds of stuffs, from construction materials to animals. Bangladeshis are truly ‘hardworking’ people. Many loading and unloading has been taking place as early as 3am or earlier, using only their skinny muscle or their small head. Their manpower is impressive, yes, the man’s power, the power of man, if not boy. It gives me the first impression that hard labor serves as the muscle to spin the economy.

Then the power cables hanging along the street suddenly short-circuited in front of me allegedly due to the rain. The entire street was suddenly engulfed in the dark. I just laughed.

It made me recall the time when I was stranded on the street in Ashgabat during On the Road 1.0. At least there were no rain and there were benches to lie down at that time. Here, I had nowhere to go and nowhere to sit. It was wet and flooded everywhere. I can hardly find any cover along the front porch. Even if there was, it was built in a rudimentary manner with holes and openings here and there.

First Night - Dhaka street

First night already seeing myself stranded on Dhaka street. #$%&@#$%$

P/s: It was 7am. I finally heard the sound of the gate being opened. Not too bad, the staff on duty allowed me to check in earlier. Perhaps he saw me dozing off in the couch in front of him which could have triggered his pity. Yes, it works. Hahaha. It was the first time I see my photo taken as part of the formality to stay in a hotel. Hey, am I checking into a prison? The pokey room did seem like a cell. Hahaha.

A Painstaking Visa-On-Arrival at Dhaka

I never expect a visa-on-arrival at Dhaka airport could be so not straightforward until I almost refused entry if not because of a bit of luck and wit. Perhaps I underestimated or overlooked it.

I thought by landing on the airport instead of getting in by land border would certainly entitle me a visa-on-arrival without much hassle. It wasn’t until I showed myself in front of immigration counter after paying the visa fee that I realized I was wrong.

“Where is your Letter of Invitation (LOI)?”

“Where is your return ticket?”

“Show me your hotel reservation.”

“Oh, Shit!” I guess it’s too late to say so. I have none of those.

You know what? Bangladesh is so high that you actually need to be invited to come here. The economy here is so good and the job opportunity here is so abundant that one would be tempted to work here illegally to earn the very good Taka. First day on the road already there are people asking me to buy return ticket to return. What a joke!

Perhaps they should add things like bank statement (to prove that you have sufficient money to support your stay here), work confirmation letter (to prove that you have a proper job and won’t end up working illegally here because the economy here is so good) and sponsor (to sponsor you in the event you run out of money or make trouble here).

This is the first time I was requested these documents to get in a country. Visa-on-arrival, as the name suggests, is a visa you get upon arrival. It is a straight forward thing. If you want to impose such requirement, don’t implement visa-on-arrival then. Make it a requirement to apply at embassy or high commission then. Period.

“I’m not coming to work.” “I’m just a tourist visiting your country.”

“I’m not returning to my country.” “I’m going to India over land after this.”

“I’ll be staying at Hotel A.”

I tried to explain my intention and situation sincerely in the hope that he can understand and accommodate it. There were long queue at all three counters. All three officers look impatient and annoyed as if they are doing some critical science project. I don’t understand why they would need to spend an average of 30 minutes on each person for the entire formality. It is computerized after all. The officer attending me seemed not buying my persuasion and kept shouting for return ticket, before signalling me aside and calling “Next!” I was ignored thereafter and he started to attend to the next person.

Being refused and caught unprepared, I stood still, still in front of the counter, trying to play the pity game.

“Mister, I only need 7 days.”

“Mister, I have no intention to work in your country.”

“4 days, Mister!”

“Return ticket.”

“Return ticket.”

“Return ticket!”

After several attempt of a combination of begging and sweet talking, I was still stumped by the great wall of Bangladesh. I decided to leave the counter to clear my mind so as to find my way out. I’m surprised that I played low in dignity. Suddenly, something popped my mind. Hmm, the officer didn’t ask for the LOI and hotel reservation anymore. OK. Perhaps he didn't mean it. So the only obstacle is the return ticket. My gut feel told me that I can get by it eventually even without having to bribe him. Sometimes, you just need to believe your gut feel, especially at the time when you are desperate and have no one else to discuss with.

Judging by the rank on the shoulder, I walked to their superior. He seemed to be more considerate and accommodating. I tried to explain my situation in order to persuade him. I showed him my Indian visa pasted firmly on my passport. Luckily I didn’t apply an Indian e-visa. I also showed him my hotel reservation which is actually a no-reply email. He seemed not in the interest to check the content or verify the authenticity of the document. It is this observation that eventually made me see a light above my brow. In fact, I believe one can even fake the documents using your smart phone.

After rounds of rounds of repeated explanation followed by similar refusal, he asked me to queue at the 2nd counter. I suddenly saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Despite the long and boring queue, this is a good omen to take. I just need to be more patient.

There were lots of foreigners coming to Bangladesh which kind of surprising me. Many Chinese citizens were asked to queue at first counter. Poor them to have been treated like animals. They were mocked from time to time due to their poor command in English. Their passport was thrown on them rudely. On the other hand, a French guy queuing at the third counter can’t stand with the bureaucracy and madness of being asked to queue here and there that he finally lost his temper and shouted out loud. The officer quickly attended to him and stopped the queue changing. White supremacy seems to be still prevailed here to some extent. Imagine if it was me or the Chinese. We could be deported right away.

When it was finally my turn to show up again in front of the second counter after hour-long of punishing queue, the officer asked for my hotel reservation. But when I showed him the no-reply email on my phone, he didn't even bother to see. I was really speechless. He then seemed hesitant and couldn’t make up his mind. He referred to his fellow colleagues as well as his superior, allegedly for discussion.

“10 days, I can only give you 10 days.”

“Thank you.”

10-day visa-on-arrival for Bangladesh

There was a flash moment I wanted to leave to India right away since this country is not welcoming me.

P/s: The series of unfortunate event didn’t stop here. The ensuing event sees me spending the rest of the night on the street, in the rain. Damn it.

First Stop - Bangladesh

Bangladesh – a country where people is getting confused if you are telling them you are visiting. It is a country one finds it hard to associate with travel.

Bangladesh isn’t my first choice of first stop. It has never been. In general, who will want to visit this country? Picking Bangladesh as my first stop is a bit hardcore I foresee, especially to people like me who has been taking granted on the convenience and comfort of the modern world for ages. Honestly, it doesn’t exhilarate me. Nor do it giving me any anticipation towards my trip. Landing on the land of Bangla isn’t going to give me any on-the-road mood. I suppose it isn’t a stop for a good warming up to my journey ahead. Having said that, it is still in my list. Every country has its own take. There is no country that I do not want to go. This explains everything.

My initial plan is to get in Bangladesh from India. Having learned from fellow travelers of being refused a visa-on-arrival (VOA) at land border years ago, I decided to land on it because according to numerous travelers’ account, getting a VOA at the airport is easy and straightforward.

I thought I was smart. 

The only setback is the 2355 arrival time. Who is willing to arrive at this odd hour? I was thinking to overnight at the airport. An earlier check on www.sleepinginairports.net found out that it is one of the ten worst airports to overnight 1. This, again set me back. I estimate the earliest time I will be arriving at the hotel via Uber, yes, via Uber, will definitely be in the wee hours. I afraid I will be locked out 2.

The ensuing event sees me being refused a VOA at the airport. 

¹ This turned out to be not true. Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport is perfectly OK to stay overnight!

² This turned out to be true. Damn it.