Dressed for the beach, unarmed in the Parliament

Homestretch ahead  but still much to do and see in Bangladesh.

This week I visited two iconic, very different places: Cox's Bazar and the Parliament. 

Cox's Bazar is one of the longest sandy beaches in the world. 

The coastal tourist city of Cox's Bazar is about an hour's flight from Dhaka's crazy busy, loud, dusty life. The 120 kilometers long beach area offers fresh sea air, amazing views of the Bay of Bengal and solitude, a seldom luxury in seriously overpopulated Bangladesh.

While my husband was at meetings, I walked hours and hours along the beach, occasionally accompanied by local children and millions of red crabs which very quickly disappeared in their holes when I tried to approach them.

People here seem to enjoy togetherness and large flocks but I deliberately avoided the crowded beaches.

The temperature was about 30+C (85+F) but thanks to a kind sea breeze, it was not hot at all. Not in even in a local beach outfit which has nothing to do with swimwear. People swim in their normal clothes both in the sea and in the pool. 

The magnificence of Cox's Bazar has, unfortunately, a tragic side since tens of thousands of Rohingya refugees from Myanmar land there with traumatic experiences and limited hope for the future.

The transition from the beach to the Parliament has to be fish. The waters round Cox's Bazar are full of fish and fishing boats. The Parliament building in Dhaka is surrounded by a man made lake, home for fish that is served at the Parliament members' club.

The Bangladesh Parliament complex is one of the largest legislative complexes in the world, also one of the most special. Not necessary beautiful but impressive.

The construction of the present Parliament complex began in 1961 by the then President of Pakistan as a permanent building for the federal legislature of both West Pakistan and East Pakistan. Bangladesh became independent in 1971 and the inauguration of the Parliament took place in 1982.

The then government appointed first a Bangladeshi architect to design the building. He wanted to give the task to Alvar Aalto or Le Corbusier. They were not available and finally the task went to Louis Kahn, an American architect.

The result is an enormous concrete palace with regular geometric shapes. 

It was not allowed to bring fire-arms nor to take pictures inside the building.  

In true banglastyle there were a lot of cobwebs and dust, too. Our guide told that the building is rather cold in the winter, with a large mosquito population.

The Parliament chamber had some funny features like a sound proof upper gallery for children and microphones that automatically stop functioning when the allocated speech time is over.

Wild bowels, wilder ideas

Probably known for others but an unpleasant surprise for me: I am full of s**t!

Four days and counting with a brutal diarrhea has been an unwanted lesson on body (dys)functions.

Enough of the downstream.

I have had a lot of time to think in the bathroom.

Like travel industry.

Dhaka can boast with a number recently opened luxurious hotels, and new projects are under construction both in the capital and other cities.

Why?

Bangladesh can already now offer everything that the rich, experienced, fit, adventurous traveler is looking for.

Surprisingly many people are willing to pay huge sums for hunger, sweat, pain and struggle - all renewable natural resources in Bangladesh.

Who has not done the mountains, the seas, the skies, the Moon, the five big?

An irresistible idea for the real adventurer: work as a laborer in Dhaka.

The concept is simple: the traveler collects an outfit (lungi, t-shirt, head scarf, flipflops, optional underwear for men, all-body-covering and far too warm clothing for women) and works like a slave at least ten hours a day all week.

He earns one hundred taka (1,2 US dollars) a day, sleeps in a metal/straw hut with tens of other men, does his business in a open sewage. She can get employment in the garment industry, housing in the slums, earning a little less.

Daredevils can clean high-rise windows, real machos may collect garbage or pull a rickshaw.

And since the concept is sustainable, fair, ecological and all-good, the man or woman replaced by the traveler, gets paid at least 500 taka a day - with an obligation to attend school classes or occupational education.

After a week: a nice tan (men), remarkable weight loss, bigger muscles, new understanding, much to tell back home. Ok, maybe  sunstroke, diarrhea, fatigue - part of the game.

Can be combined with a couple of days at a luxury hotel, relaxing, feeling good and drinking a beer that costs more than the whole week's earnings.

No purchase but many smiles

New Market is a  famous Dhaka institution. And as the name implies, in banglalogic , it is one one of the oldest markets in Dhaka. 

New Market was founded when people got tired of the busy (read seriously overcrowded) streets of Old  Dhaka. New Market would be the showpiece of Dhaka's modernization in the 1950s. 

New Market is said to be triangular in shape with a triangular lawn with a mosque in the center. 

Well, we found the mosque (under reconstruction) but I am not sure about the lawn. Whatever, it was an exciting experience. 

We went there early on a Friday morning when most of the stores were just opening. For Dhaka people, it was empty - for people from scarcely populated countries it was jammed.

Our driver said that we should return in the evening when it was really busy and we could experience the real nature of the market place. Honestly, the unreal nature was enough.

The pictures hopefully give a little idea of the atmosphere though the most impressive experience was all the smells. 

Fish, meat, sweat, urine, dirt, spices, city, sleep, dust. Not exactly something you would spray behind your ear. 

And I am afraid that the smells are much stronger in the summer when the temperature in about the double. Now it's winter time with 25 to 30 Celcius (77 to 86 Fahrenheit).

New Market is a place where you can buy anything essential for the local life - from fish to meat, household objects, sandals and clothes.

You can negotiate the price but the smile is always free.

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.

A nation in red and green

Bangladesh was dressed in red and green this week. The country celebrated its 45th Victory Day on Friday. 

The streets were crowded with people in red and green clothes, scarves and hats - the colors of the young nation. Cars, rickshaws, bikes, shops and office buildings were decorated with national flags in all sizes and shapes.

Bangladesh had a very bloody birth, followed by much violence and suffering. There has been a lot of progress but for a newcomer the country still looks like - I apologize - a mess. But the society seems to be functional, in a Bangla way.

I was lucky to be invited as a spouse to the President's Victory Day reception on Friday afternoon. Thousands of people were listening to patriotic music and mingling in the presidential garden, physically very close to thousands of poor people just outside the palace.

My husband attended the formal celebrations relay which started at dawn by wreath laying and continued by a military parade. 

I followed the parade on tv - it was a show-off of national pride and military muscles mixed with political propaganda.

Every single piece of the armed forces from fighter planes to attack elephants and army excavators were exhibited.

It is very dusty during the winter in Bangladesh but in the parade everything looked brand new and shiny. 

Photo credit for the parade pictures goes to my husband, the rest are my mobile phone shots.

On the personal note I feel very blessed just now. Both of my "babies" are visiting us in Dhaka. The whole family can be together for a couple of days. 

Happy holidays!