Up in the air

 The capital of a nation is often very different from the rest of the country. 

In Dhaka's case this is very true. Dhaka is a hyperactive, polluted and noisy megacity. Most Dhaka people travel back "to the village" whenever they have the chance.

I was fortunate (yes, once again) to join a helicopter tour from Dhaka to Chittagong and clearly see the difference between the 20 million inhabitants' capital and "the village". 

From the air the capital looks like an unorganized nest of buildings after buildings after buildings, the countryside a vast plain. 

At two hundred meters we were low enough to see all the wonderful colors, small villages, cows, river boats and bridges but high enough not to see the rural misery, hear the noises and feel the smells.

There were many rivers, man made ponds, natural lakes, shrimp and fish farms. Finally, the sea side with long beaches, closer to Chittagong also the ship wrecking yards.

The largest part of the tour was, however, an unending chess board of green, yellow, brown, grey and black fields. Wet fields, dry fields, blooming and barren fields. 

Food, in other words.

Bangladeshis think of food a lot, eating is a national sport. 

For the tens of millions poor Bangladeshis earning a meal is a daily struggle while rich people fight against obesity.

Rich or poor, people are unbelievably hospitable. 

A dinner invitation by an affluent host can be a challenge. As a newcomer I made several times the mistake of believing that the starters were the main dish. After many rounds of salads, pies, vegetables, small and big other dishes, the table was suddenly loaded with the main courses: fish, mutton, beef, chicken, vegetables and rice. More is not enough is the principle.

Rice is inevitable. There is no meal without rice. You can eat a whole pizza and then go to dinner. Why? Because there was no rice with the pizza.

After a while, I have learnt to eat slowly. If your plate shows the smallest signs of an empty spot, it will be heaped up with all and everything.

When you feel that you are about to explode, it's time for the dessert: sweet cakes, sweet ice cream, sweeter than sweet yoghurt. 

The pictures are hazy, it was slightly foggy, and there is a lot of pollution in Dhaka. Plus I am an amateur photographer.

Devastating start to 2017

 Last year in Bangladesh was rather challenging. This year didn't start very well either.
On Tuesday a furious fire destroyed a large Dhaka market with more than 300 stores. While the flames were swallowing the market and the future of thousands of people, an earthquake frightened the rest of the country.



"I lost my store and my income, so did my brother who also had a store here", told a shopkeeper when I visited the ruins of Gulshan 1 DNCC market on Friday.
Smoke still rose from the rests of his store, it was burning hot. And certainly not safe, the building could collapse any time.
Half burnt lingerie at his store was covered with black ash and rubble. It looked sad and it felt hopeless.



All over the ruins one could see burnt shoes in heaps, blackened shampoo bottles, mountains of ashy rubbish. The floors were covered with dark grey water, the building stank of dirty smoke.

The shopkeeper was, however, confident that he would be granted a space in a shopping center that will be built on the ruins of the burnt market.
There have been many rumors that the fire was not accidental but a well planned plot to get rid of the relatively rundown market quickly and effectively.



The 5.5 magnitude earthquake, some 160 kilometers east of Dhaka, had tragicomic consequences for our household.
That day my husband attended a meeting where he had been sitting in the same position for a long time. His legs were asleep when the tremors started. Everyone had to leave the building, and my husband wrenched his ankle while stumbling out. His foot first swelled like a dough, now it's blue.
So, I have "an earthquake casualty" in the house.

Let's hope that the year will have some good surprises, too. Happier 2017 everyone.