Am I in Bangladesh?, that was what I thought when I first landed my feet on Dhaka International airport with its unfriendly (at least to the Bangladeshi who seem not knowing about standing in line) and scary-look guards. As told by my Bangladeshi colleague I travel with, the condition is now much better compared to lets say five years ago. At that time it was not computerized yet thus the immigration officers had to manually type or type by hand. Consequently, it took more time for one to complete the registration: 15-20 minutes each. If you were standing in the sixth, you can have a 2-hour sleep instead of waiting in line, while standing.
Like usual, I went to pick the cart for putting my suitcase and some boxes containing papers and publications of the organization I currently join. I had two carts and none of them worked when loaded. When it is empty, it works though not stable creating some eik eik eik sound. It was finally done, get the suitcases and welcome to Dhaka!
It was the haze (later I was told it was fog) that surprised me and made me ask myself whether I was in Dhaka or somewhere in Europe. Indeed it was humid and windy, thus a bit cold. It was around 12.30 in the afternoon, the sun shone yet the fog was quite thick enabling the limited sight of human. The front hall of the airport itself is fenced and I could see many people standing in the other side of the iron fence like people standing in the prison, or we are in the prison. The entrance gate to the hall is guarded by four or five black scary Bangladeshi guys as well as at the exit. The airport pick up arranged by the place where I stay is so much unbalance with the outsiders. This is common in developing countries, I think: you can see people in good car and people in no car a.k.a the walking people with some burdens to carry. I was a bit jetlag to see many people walking in the dusty air of Dhaka, and most of them were unfortunately poor (in terms of living un-decent life, not the mental I believe).
As if I were in Africa as most people walking were black as common southern Asian people. It was the first time seeing the man-power rickshaw ride which I think is quintessential Bangladeshi experience.
Rickshaw is a tricycle pulled and paddled by a man where the passengers sit at the back. It is in normal condition for two persons but in fact 4 even 5 people can go in one time. It is like a pedicab or becak in Indonesia but the difference is that we sit at the back in the higher position enabling us seeing the surrounding. The rickshaw riders are very strong, I can say and their life must be very hard, I believe.
Do not expect to have a bluebird-like taxi in here as the number is very limited. Alternatively, you can have small cabs with green or black colors. The black ones size is as small as Mr. Beans car and the green one is exactly like bajaj in Indonesia. The only difference is that it makes softer sound and not a dazzling sound like bajaj makes. Also, it creates less smoke as they use natural gas. It is also common in here to see busses with words written
This bus runs use use natural gas.
On the way to Baridhara, the district where I stay, I saw the very bad traffic. The road was dominated by the rickshaws except in some roads where they are forbidden. But still, cab drivers make it bad, seems not wanting to queue or riding in line. With the dust on the road (hence the walking paths at the edge of the street is brown instead of its original grey color) the condition was even worse as people blow the horn of cars very easily. Once one wants to move, the first thing to do is probably blowing the horn of the car. Even worse, some green cabs also provide loud south Asian music. Everything is in the air: dust, noise and music. Looking at the walking people, I saw most of them spit everywhere they want. Damn! The place where I stay is indeed in the embassy complex and very close to American Embassy, which is like a fort with tall strong wall in the surrounding. I was about to take picture when I saw warning not to take picture. What? Against photographers right!
I was able to see some night markets in Dhaka after the 2 hours meeting with an Urban and Regional Planning Professor in one top university in Dhaka. The sellers was quite forcing when attracting buyers and later I found that we had to show some courage to look at their eyes and say NO!. they seem to be rough but indeed no, they dont. They are friendly and for sure they are disappointed but they would not get angry if after fitting and opening the folded clothes, we do not buy theirs. They understand that customers are king, which is one thing I like in here. Waiting for the yellow taxi (the best taxi in here) was useless. Indeed, I took the green one (bajaj-like one) with meter inside, surprise!. The meter works very well and it is a combination of bajaj (open) and taxi (meter). I felt like lost when being brought by the cab driver to the place where I stay and I felt dizzy because of the surrounding sound and the sound of the horns of cars and people yelling at each other. What I thought was
welcome acne onto my face. Arriving at the room 107 Asia Pacific Hotel, I enjoyed watching sport channel showing Winter Olympics in Torino, Italy. Thinking about the plan for next days made me tired and I was overslept with UNICEF 2006 Agenda open and unfilled for two days. I woke up after about half an hour sleep. That was the time when I realized that I miss you much. It is not good to sleep alone, like the song
I do not like to sleep alone, stay with me dont go.Your face is all around Dhaka, 13 February 2006.
Some other pictures of Dhaka are
one click away.
