Monday 4th February - Some thoughts on Local Transport in Bangladesh.

There must be quiet and peaceful places in Bangladesh but Khulna is not one of them. Nevertheless we get a decent night's sleep with the assistance of our earplugs. The breakfast buffet is plentiful and runs to three kinds of egg - hard boiled, fried and omelette. Service is attentive to the point of being overwhelming. It would appear that some guests get carried away.

R takes umbrage because the cutlery available does not include knives.We finish packing and getting ourselves ready for today's expedition to Bagerhat. We travelled through it on yesterday's bus trip but decided that a visit sans baggages would be more enjoyable. The bags are dropped at reception to be moved elsewhere and we head out towards the bus stand. We are at least 30 years too late to  take the narrow gauge train that used to run between Khulna and Bagerhat. The traffic is quiet and there are not many people about.

This all changes at the road junction before we get to the bus stand, where chaos prevails. There are buses and people all over the place while the rest of the traffic attempts to squeeze by. Somebody asks us where we are going and waves us in a general direction. When we get across the road another man asks again and directs us to wait on the pavement. Space is cleared for us on a seat but we don't have long to wait. "Baggera, Baggera,Baggera" goes up the cry and we are ushered on board.

There should be some sort of Beaufort Scale for the condition of Bangladeshi buses. If yesterday's was decrepit this one is in danger of decomposing. We find a pair of seats with a window and two inches less legroom than D can fit into. The bus fills up and we are set to go when a rammy flares up at the door of the bus. A short but rather fierce looking lady is giving it laldy at a middle aged man who is trying to board. There is lots of shouting, gesticulation and finger pointing and, as a crowd gathers to watch the entertainment, a few bystanders chip in their two penn'orth. The man exits the bus and is accosted by a burly bearded chap before disappearing. The fierce lady then turns to haranguing bystanders who move away quickly. It only needs a couple of songs to make a good opera.

This time we go, but not very far before pulling into a filling station. Does every bus refuel on every trip? By the time we have cleared the suburbs of Khulna the bus is packed. For those who have not used buses in Bangladesh a few words on crewing arrangements may be enlightening. The crew consists of three people and we have only seen men doing the job. The driver's duties are basically driving the bus, blowing the horn at least 90% of the time and putting the fear of God into all other road users. The second man carries out the duties that we normally associate with a conductor*. He collects fares and shouts "Move right down the bus!" but in Bangla. The third person hangs out of the front door whenever the bus is in motion, banging on the side with his fist and shouting insults at pedestrians and slower vehicles. He also has to climb on the roof when luggage needs loading or unloading. Has there ever been a Bangla version of 'On the Buses'.

* If you are under 40 ask your granny.

Our conductor is a fairly cheerful chap, who looks a bit like a younger Chuckle Brother. He gives us a shout when our stop is coming up and won't let the driver set off until we have fought our way through the crowd and got off the vehicle. The fare for this trip was 2 X 60 = 120 BDT and the distance 33 km.

The first site we plan to visit is the historic Shait Gumbad mosque. This is a huge brick built edifice set amid lawns and flowerbeds. At the front door we are advised that women must use the side entrance. You can image how well that goes down with R but D summons up his inner feminist and joins her on this walk of shame. Inside there are an impressive number of pillars and some nice terracotta tiles. Best of all it is shady and cool with a nice breeze drifting through the various archways. Perhaps this accounts for the popularity of Islam in hot countries.

Back outside we stroll further into the grounds which contain a large tank (artificial lake)  called the Ghora Dhigi, which translates as Horse Pond. It contains some large and beautiful water lillies. A nearby sign indicates the route to the Visitor Shed, which seems too good to miss. It turns out to be several canopies with benches in the shade and we enjoy one for a while. On the way out we pass large groups of visitors and there are the usual requests for selfies. The museum is closed today as it is a Holy Day and we will have to come back another time.

It is getting warm and, as the next place to visit is 2 km down the road, we look for an Ezybike. The first quote is 100 and we laugh, then walk away. He comes down to 50 and we have probably been swindled at that, but he delivers us to our required destination. This is Thakur Dhigi, another tank which is the home to a family of crocodiles. We deliberately walked away from the razamattaz near the entrance and took the brick paved path round the edge of the water. We were joined by a group of small children on their way home from school so we decided that we were probably safe from waterborne reptiles. The path is largely in the shade and eventually takes us to a set of steps that go down into the water.

Our next priority is a cup of tea, so we walk back towards the hubbub. On the way we are passed by a tricycle fishmonger who has two types of fish, big and small. We ask about tea at a restaurant who says no but suggests the shop next door. Here we are shown to seats in the shade and a youth makes tea for us. We are too slow to stop him putting sugar in. He asks all of the usual questions and he is particularly interested in snow so we show him some pictures of Scottish snow on R's phone. When we offer to pay he won't accept anything but asks to have his picture taken.

We have decided that we have seen a sufficient quantity of mosques and tombs today and walk back to the main road in search of transport. The Ezybike boys look away when Khulna is mentioned but one waves us towards a share CNG at the side of the road. We cannot understand anything the driver is saying as he is chewing a huge wad of paan. Eventually an interlocutor explains that he will take us to Khulna for 60 each so we climb in. A few people climb in the back and we are off. Legroom is in short supply but it is more comfortable than the bus, apart from when we cross the dug up sections of highway. About 12km short of Khulna we pull up at a dusty road junction cum truck stop and the engine is switched off. Everybody else gets out and the driver turns and looks at us. Somebody appears and manages to explain that this auto will go no further because of the police. There are lots of others about and some buses so we pay up and get out. We seem to have paid 120 for 22km to a place Ryanair might call Khulna.

A taxi driver approaches and tells us he will take us to Khulna for 1500. We walk on and cross the road. An Ezybike man approaches and when we ask for Khulna he says "Rupsha 100".  We protest that we wish to go to Khulna City and the price goes up to 5000. Eventually a chap appears and explains that only Khulna licensed vehicles can work in the city. At Rupsha we will be able to get a city vehicle. Fair enough. We set out and our man picks up a couple other passengers who sit up front with him. Eventually D works out that we are heading for the ferry terminal on the River Rupsha, opposite Khulna. Sure enough he drops, we pay and he points us towards the ferry.  About 9km for 100.

We walk round the end of a building to see a widish river and people standing on wooden boats that are crossing this. R has never been a traghetti fan but we are saved by two youths who offer us a private hire for 100. This means R can sit on the thwart at the back and look brave. We go for it and in no time are speeding across the Rupsha River. When the fare is collected one youth seems to be suggested a gratuity but his pal vetos that because he wants D to take his photo.

On the City side we are approached by a gaggle of drivers who suggest a fare of 100 to the hotel. We walk away and it becomes 80 then one youth breaks ranks and says 70. He has the gig for the last 2 km of our relay race from Bagerhat to Khulna. The way out was cheaper,  if a bit uncomfortable, but the return trip definitely took the points for adventure. And people ask us why we take trains, speaking of which we have another this evening.

The Tiger Park International have transferred us to a triple room with a very tired bathroom. It is even more tired by the time we have finished with it. We enjoy the AC as we get our act together for tonight. We dine quite early in the hotel restaurant and don't opt for the last item on the menu.

At 20.00 we check out and board an Ezybike for Khulna Railway Station.