Tuesday 29th January - Just like our own dear BR

Our seventh day in Bangladesh and we still haven't travelled by train. This shameful state of affairs will be put right today. Breakfast is ready on the button at 7.30 and at eight we climb onto the 'Sneegy' for the trip to the station. During our stay at the Bottomhill we have not seen any other guests at all. Our driver shuns the bypass route and drives straight down the main road and over the Keane Bridge to the station, getting us there in five minutes rather than the twenty that we expected. As per the normal arrangement R is parked on a bench with the luggage while D goes to see what is what.

There is a train in the platform but the only non Bangla words visible just read 'Inter City'. The departure screens are all just squiggles as well. As D wanders along the platform looking for clues a young lady approaches to ask Do you like Bangladesh?'. Not difficult, the answer is 'Yes apart from the unintelligible Bangla script'. D asks if she can help find the right coach and shows her the ticket. 'My father knows all about trains. We will ask him'. Father takes one look at D and summons a Railway official who walks back down the train a couple of coaches and points out which door to board at.

We have the best seats that are available on this train, First Chair Class. This is airline style seating, in pairs either side of the aisle. The seats themselves are pretty moth-eaten with cigarette burns in the velour. The legroom makes a ScotRail Sprinter's seat spacing look generous and to catch the unwary, to various bits of angular ironmongery have been fixed to the back of each seat. Once D has worked out how operate the window latches we do have some light and fresh air. The overhead fan keeps the clouds of flying insects on the move. D breathes a sigh of relief that we will not have this type of seat for the overnight trip later in the week.

Our bags fit onto the overhead racks without problem. Although this is a metre gauge line the loading gauge of the coaches is no smaller than UK standard gauge stock. D makes sure to get a picture of the loco before departure, which is prompt at 08.40.  We are travelling to Srimangal, 42 miles away as the crow flies but the rails incorporate a substantial diversion to the east so the trip will be longer. For those who care about such things even more than D the loco belongs to Class GM-EMD GT18LA-2.

Less than five minutes after setting off the entertainment begins as a man appears in the aisle, playing a violin and singing. He is followed by a succession of vendors selling delights such as popcorn, coffee with condensed milk, whole pineapples and Jhal Muri. After the first stop three rather pushy hijras make their way down the coach. Normally they ignore us but one demands a tip from R. 'Awa and bile yer heid' is the gist of the response. R does make a donation to the blind man singing whilst being led by a small girl.

The first part of our journey is through a broad plain, mainly devoted to paddy fields. The railway is built on an embankment elevated about ten feet above ground which gives us a better view of what is going on. Today is much cooler and a mist covers the countryside. As we leave the paddies and climb gently into a hilly area of tea plantations the mist closes in. With the window open it is quite fresh but not uncomfortable. 

Warning : Geek paragraph

The Eastern section of Bangladesh Railways is all metre gauge, while the Western section is now Indian broad gauge (5'6"). Today's run is along single track sections between stations, controlled by colour light signals. The main running tracks are flat footed rail on concrete sleepers, fixed with Pandrol type clips. Rail lengths are short, around 30 feet. Sidings have similar rail but fixed direct to timber sleepers with square headed spikes. There are plenty of freight vehicles standing in sidings, mainly box vans, but they don't look to be in current use. We cross two trains at passing stations, one Inter City train like ours and one much shorter train that looks like a local. Maximum speed appears to be around 45 - 50 mph and there are some severe speed restrictions across bridges that appear to be undergoing repair.

By the time we get to Sreemangal at just after 11.00 the sun has broken through. The CNG ride out to the Hermitage Guest House in a nearby village takes about 10 minutes. We are given a choice of rooms and opt for one on a corner with its own balcony. From here R can keep an eye on what is happening in the kitchen down below. We are told that food is bought in to order and that we need to choose our meals three hours in advance. We are being good and passing on lunch so that was easy. 

A walk to examine the local options seems to be in order. We start by heading north towards the village centre. There are a few shops and several places that describe themselves as Eco Tourist cottages/cabins/homestays. At the main junction there is a large hotel called the Grand Sultan Tea & Golf Resort, a bit incongruous alongside the modest village buildings. The grounds contain immaculately tended lawns and shrubbery, as well as a nine hole golf course. Moving on we find a couple of small restaurants which might suit our urge to order at the last minute. There is also a parade of shops that appear to cater for most things apart from orange flavoured boiled sweets. We have tried the Mango Masala ones that everybody offers instead and they are disgusting. It has warmed up a lot by now and we opt for a rest in our room until the heat dies down a bit.

We decide to eat in tonight and place our order before heading out in the opposite direction. Less than 100 yards along the road a large hotel is being built which will surely place great strain on the village infrastructure. The lane is barely wide enough for a car and a CNG to pass each other. People are very friendly and most want to exchange a few words. A few want selfies with us in them and we relax our usual fee. As we pass a school the pupils shout greetings out of the windows. The teachers must be thrilled.

The book says that there is one of the more interesting tea plantations along this road and that is where we are heading. Before doing so we see a compound over a wall containing a small Hindu temple, a sort of sideless meeting hall and several clay idols drying in the sun. We enter and are greeted by two men who are very proud of a large statue of Nandi, the bull, which lies in front of the temple. They seem happy for D to take photos as do the chaps making the idols, but they have no English so we cannot ask questions.

Returning by the school it is chucking out time and we are bombarded with questions over and over again. Somebody has dumped a large quantity of polystyrene protective packing by the side of the road and the small boys are bashing each other over the head with it. The girls are too smart to take junk home. Back at our room there is a power cut. We sit out on the balcony until it gets chilly and  then get ourselves ready for supper.