First day in Dhaka

Intense. Exhausting. Demanding.

 

The impression of my first day in the capital of Bangladesh. I had an idea what to expect but reality was quite overwhelming. The crowds, the smells, the sounds.

We moved here because of my husband's work as a diplomat. He went to his office, I walked the streets in Gulshan, an affluent area in Dhaka.

I followed the dress code, had a long top down to knees, long sleeves, pants down to ankles. Plus sweat under my armpits, back, face, hair. The temperature was about 35 and it was really humid. 

I looked different from everybody and was stared at. I am old and wrinkled but have a fair skin and blond hair. Or maybe it was the sweat.

Fifty rickshaw drivers offered, or rather, tried to force me to their bikes. School kids shouted "hello, hello". A couple of "guides" wanted help me with shopping. 

Shopping? I hardly survived the traffic which is totally crazy. Buses, trucks, cars, motorized rickshaws, pedestrians, sellers, beggars share the same streets.

They keep to the left here, but only in theory. The driving pattern follows more creativity than rules. The national sound of Bangladesh has to be honking. The symphony of the horns never stops. 

 Bangladesh is one of the most densily populated nations in the world. It was easy to see. The streets were more than full of people. They were walking, selling clothes, food, tea, fruit, mending shoes, sitting, eating, sleeping, begging. 

One handicapped man crawled in the street, with his knees covered with black plastic pads. And this is the welloff part of the city.

And the smell. It's like the whole city is suffering from a severe inflammation in the lower parts of the body.