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.