Wednesday 23rd January - Descent on Dhaka
There's are two hours for us to kill in Dubai Airport after we have loaded up on duty free to help us through the coming weeks. Our gate is conveniently adjacent to the Hard Rock Cafe where we spin out an eyewateringly expensive beer each for an hour. There is activity at the gate so we go to join the throng. It is difficult to make out where the tail end of the queue is and most people just seem to walk to the front of it anyway. Eventually we descend from the moral high ground and join in with everybody else.
The assembled multitude moves through the gate in relative order to a holding pen where the real fun begins. Some people appear to have large items of furniture in their cabin bags while others just run to four or five normal size bags. Some poor lady in an Emirates uniform goes through the motions of orderly boarding but when Families with Small Children are called the mob strikes and it becomes a free for all. A man in the uniform of the cleaning company waves at us and removes a tape barrier to allow us to bypass control. 'Business Class' he says without glancing at our tickets. We shall put Business Class as the answer to the ethnicity question on every future census.
The carry on bags eventually were all found a home and the flight passed rather unremarkably. A distinctly non Western breakfast was served at 01.30 hours UK time, nicely nullifying the chances of a spot of shut eye. Who wouldn't trade a night's sleep for a spot of minced mutton.
Once again we were at the back of the plane and we're almost last to disembark. The moment of truth with the Bangladesh Border Police was approaching. There was no queue at the Payment Desk and we were shown the application forms that required completion. That done we joined what seemed to be the shortest queue of the four available. Folks ahead had various problems - wrong form, form missing, no hotel address. One European couple were taken to one side by the supervising officer who did not look happy.
Our chap went through the forms and then called the head man over. "Why did we want to be in Bangladesh for two weeks?" D's greatly maligned spreadsheet listing hotels, train journeys and the like in date order was produced. The authority deemed it to be a Tour Schedule and therefore admissible. Our mugshots and fingerprints were taken and all the forms and passports stamped. Meanwhile the big shot was waving D's list at the Europeans and telling them they needed something like that, not just a vague idea about wandering around Bangladesh, stopping at will. Nobody asked us how we planned to leave the country.
The hard won visa was then just ignored at the control point and we were reunited with our bags. So much fun and it is still only 11.30 local. We booked a pick up from our hotel and with the help of a friendly local made the contact. The drive into the city took 90 minutes, much of it standing still. There is a metro under construction but there looks to be a long way to go.
Our Hotel may be slightly beyond its best before date but the staff are friendly and helpful. We drop our bags and contemplate the next move. We have been travelling for almost exactly 24 hours and weariness is starting to tell. R opts for a snooze while D heads out to find a cash machine and a SIM card for the phone.
It is warm and a bit hazy on the streets but not uncomfortable. The first two ATMs reject our card which is a bit worrying but Citibank came up with the goods and down the road was an Airtel sign. A polite but rather serious young man sorts out 6Gb plus trimmings and fits the SIM.
From here it is nobbut a step to the main railway station where the train to Kolkata can be booked. This is pretty painless and D moves on to the Bangladesh Inland Waterways Transport Company office. This is remarkably well hidden and the gatekeeper tries to tell me the office has moved but does not have sufficient English to explain where to. No doubt he is blogging at this moment about idiot tourists who turn up in Dhaka without two Bangla words to rub together.
Somebody upstairs has overheard and ushers D up to the derelict first floor. Has he been following since Citibank? It turns out that a couple of offices are still manned and D leaves equipped with the new address, the phone number and the name of the man to ask for.
D returns to the hotel without getting lost but then does get lost in the lobby which is currently a building site. One of the workies guides him back to the lifts. Our hotel is centrally situated in the Car Pimpers Bazaar area, next to the Weird and Wonderful Light Fittings Bazaar. R is entranced. We wimp out with Pakoras and Fries in the darkest indoor bar we have ever seen*. Still sleep to catch up on so early night tonight.
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