I like cities, better than nature if I am being honest. Sometimes when I pick a city to visit it is because it has something specific I want to see, but sometimes I am just curious about a city itself. Dhaka, Bangladesh was one of those cities. I had little on a list of ‘sites’ to see in Dhaka; it was just the city itself that appealed. Everything I read about it suggested it would be either a lively chaos or a miserable cesspool. (Seriously, most people had nothing but negative things to say about it.) Either way, I knew it would be interesting. I’ll just say now, I loved it. I loved it instantly and throughout.
It started the moment I stepped out of the airport, having flown there from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. People crowded, shouting, pushing perilous towers of beaten-up luggage, cars bumper-to-bumper, instant heat and smells of people and exhaust and perfume. Terrific.
I got a taxi to take me to my accommodation. Dhaka is notorious for its traffic, and we did spend a little time crawling along, but I didn’t mind because everything was exciting. The overcrowded buses that looked like they had been through 50 years of bad driving, the tuk tuks, bicycles, rickshaws, and trucks, all jockeying for position. I’m sure that if I lived there, I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic, but as a new arrival, everything seemed new and thrilling.
And then we pulled up to the high gate of my accommodation: the Ambrosia Guest House. I can confidently say I would not stay anywhere else in Dhaka. There are no hostels to speak of and most of the budget hotels look grim. The fancy hotels look generic and are in a dull part of town, but this Guest House is in a perfect location for a walker like me, just off a main road but slightly tucked away with a beautiful garden oasis. I had a big private room, use of the common areas, and enjoyed breakfast each morning with the other guests. In the evenings, I had a cigar in the garden.
But I didn’t travel to Dhaka to luxuriate in gardens. So out I went.
The streets in Dhaka are wonderful madness. Endless traffic with a parade of colourful rickshaws, creating a cheerful din of handlebar bells. Old, repurposed, red double-decker buses from the UK. The regular city buses, so beaten up but painted with colourful patterns and sometimes with whimsical hearts or birds. And of course, bicycles, tuk tuks, and people on foot, like me, all moving together. It is chaos, but it works.
Everything is loud, from the voices to the horns and bells, to announcements made over loudspeakers about, presumably, things for sale at the central market.
It is colourful. Not just the buses, but the people, many dressed in bright local or traditional clothing, stalls selling fresh flowers, businesses covered in a riot of multicoloured signage that can only come from a lack of regulation.
Nothing is orderly or slow. It is all terrific and exhilarating.
I walked for a bit, stopping for coffees or teas. I wandered through book stalls and shops at the market and meandered around taking it all in.
I then hailed a rickshaw to take me to the edge of Old Dhaka. That was fun. I discovered later that I paid about 10x more than I should have, but the price I paid was still like $3 cdn, so it was cheap – especially since I was paying for a slightly-built human being to pull me by the power of his own cycling whilst I rode in my sparkly rickshaw seat like a king.
I was dropped off at the Dhakeshwari Temple, a candy-coloured Hindu temple. I can’t tell you much about it, but it was busy with worshippers and had altars of slightly fearsome, slightly comedic looking gods.
From there, I wandered towards the Lalbagh Fort. It wasn’t difficult to find. Buildings in Old Dhaka are not that tall and eventually I saw the walls and the tops of the fort ahead of me. The entrance fee was negligible and well worth it. The fort structures inside are fine. A bit like the Red Fort in Delhi or the Lahore Fort in Lahore, but much smaller. The real treat are the grounds, lovely expanses of green with beautiful flowers.
It was all locals (and me) inside, everyone enjoying the serenity. It was there though that I discovered the Bangladeshis’ fondness for selfies. I couldn’t go a few feet without being asked to take selfies with people. One person asked me to hold their baby for the photo. (I declined that. I’ve never held a baby in my life and was not to start with a stranger’s child.) Eventually I had to start declining the selfies or I would never get where I was going. People asked me where I was from and, smiling, wished me happy travels in Bangladesh. Both the selfies and friendly greetings happened everywhere. Even people that spoke very little English would manage to ask me where I was from and say, “thank you”.
From there I visited the Armenian church, a pretty buttercream and yellow church surrounded by trees. I was let in by the caretaker who unlocked it and was happy to show me around. (All my pictures were lousy, but it is worth visiting.)
I stepped out of the church and was trying to decide which direction to walk next, when a young man approached me. He spoke English and asked me where I was from and if I was lost. I explained I was just looking around and he suggested I walk to the river and told me the way. He gave me his business card and said that if I needed anything, to contact him. That too was not the only time that kind of hospitality happened.
I did walk down to the banks of the Bariganga River. The river is the life of the city, connecting it to the rest of the country. The waterways are filled with passenger ships, cargo ships, and little boats transporting people and goods. It is as energetic as the streets. I sat on the banks of the river, smoked some cigarillos and watched the action. I did not go out on a boat that day but did the next.
After that, I continued to walk the streets of Old Dhaka. Old Dhaka is, well, the oldest part of the city. The streets are narrow, sometimes not even wide enough for cars. The buildings are in poor repair and the streets are lined with shops, restaurants, small mosques, and tons of food vendors.
Mysterious fried snacks filled with vegetables or meat, sweets, fresh juices, overly sweet tea, fruits, plates of curries and biryani. I ate some things where I was able to discern that they were vegetarian. I assumed I would get some sort of food poisoning not matter how careful I was, so why not go down enjoying the local food? (Amazingly I did not get sick on this trip.)
I walked back to my hotel, getting there after dark.
On the way back I saw something I had not expected. I was on a busy street with sidewalks and there was a man lying down. I hadn’t seen this yet in Dhaka, so it caught my attention. Plus, the man was lying in an uncomfortable position…with his eyes wide open…and not moving. I stopped. Also not moving: his chest. I know what a dead person’s open eyes look like and this was it. No one else was stopping, so I walked to the corner, where there was a group of policemen. I approached them and tried to say what I had seen, but they didn’t speak English. I tried to communicate through miming. I pointed, then leaned back with my arms crossed over my chest. Made a slashing movement in front of my throat…but they didn’t seem to understand. So I carried on. At that point it wasn’t exactly an emergency situation, and I did what I could. It was a little jarring to see death in the middle of a city that feels so alive, but you can’t have life without death. You just don’t often see it.
I had only been in Dhaka a half a day but saw so much. I finished the evening in my hotel’s garden with a cigar, reflecting on all of it.
A few practical comments:
- As I discussed in a previous post, I did have to get a visa ahead of time, but there was no other hassle entering the country.
- Dhaka is inexpensive. Like, really cheap. You can obviously spend more if you want to go to western-style restaurants and cafes, but just walking around, taking local transport, and eating at casual places or on the street, you would struggle to spend $10.
- This is one of those places where you should have cash. I brought a mix of Euros and US dollars and exchanged them for Bangladeshi Taka as needed. I did try some ATMS just to see if they worked. Some did. Some didn’t. You can’t expect places to take cards unless they are more upscale.
- I felt completely safe, day and night. It is so busy and there are always people around and they are exceedingly helpful. No one was rude or leering or threatening in any way. Probably the only risk is tripping or stepping into a hole in the sidewalk.
- It was really hot and humid. Staying clean was impossible. That said, despite the heat, it felt good. There are so many trees and often a nice breeze, especially near the river.
- Most people didn’t speak English but often there would be someone around who would speak it a bit if you really need to communicate.
- In case I haven’t made it clear: I thought Dhaka was awesome and was happy to have more days ahead.
