The hotel minivan which met us at the airport at 10.50 pm wasn't
just picking us up – it was On Emergency Foreigner Duty, according to the sign
in its front window. This seems to be
purely for our benefit: it’s unlikely any other driver in the heavy traffic
could have read it through the teeming rain, or cared if they could.
Bangladeshi flower (at the Rajshahi research station: I forgot to take
photos in Dhaka)
The next morning I saw more of Dhaka than rain: it’s green
and verdant and unexpectedly beautiful (I’d never heard much good about
Bangladesh before arriving: once here it’s overturned all my expectations. It seems to be a hidden jewel for research). P, D and I went for a walk in a park near our
hotel: there’s an 800m brick circuit surrounded by greenery and a high fence,
with guards on the entries. We were the
only westerners walking, though there were many others, both men and women,
walking and sitting chatting in groups.
It’s peaceful in the park, though pretty humid at 9 am: after half an
hour’s walking we were all drenched.
From my hotel room I had a view of a small lake surrounded by trees,
pedestrians and cycle rickshaws passing slowly by.
The cycle rickshaws aren’t a gimmick: they seem to exist
because there are a lot of hungry people who have a rickshaw and can cycle
it. They form a useful civic function,
particularly when the streets are muddy and it’s raining – I guess westerners
and larger Bangladeshis need to tip especially well to mitigate some of the unease
of being pedalled by a very fit, thin man. The hoods of the rickshaws are
beautifully and individually decorated with pressed metal (tin? Stainless steel?)
and wood painted with flowers and decorated with sequinned strips of fabric –
no two are alike.
Opportunistic taro on the bunds at BARI research station trials,
Rajshahi
Dhaka tuktuks will probably survive Armageddon (as will
eucalypts – they’re in every country it seems!): headlights, tail lights and
indicators are all protected by a thick steel mesh, as are the driver’s and
passengers’ cabs (driving is, at times, a contact sport). Wing mirrors are internal, and often still
cracked. They’re surprisingly
comfortable over muddy uneven dirt roads.
Tuktuks elsewhere are less well-armoured, and in better condition.
300 taka got P and me in a tuktuk to a new department store
which had a Luna Park-style fun fair out the front. The shopping centre was HUGE and still in the
process of being filled. Floors 1-4 will
be clothing – a mixture of western-influenced and traditional styles for men
and women; floor 5 is electronics; and the top floor will be a food court. P and I saw a lot of floor space, but didn’t
explore its far reaches (we forgot the breadcrumbs). I bought four kalwar shameez and learned the
process as I went: you find a style you like, request it in your size and, if
that exists, try on the kalwar only. The
shameez you get to try on at home and hope they fit! Of the four sets, it turns out one is pretty
fancy (so now I'm set should I get invited to a party!) and the rest have
enormous shameez with a string tie at the waist – this makes for a loose and
comfortable undergarment. Each comes
with its own scarf. The everyday shalwar
kameez are: a) hot pink and teal blue; b) bright red, aqua and gold; and c)
orange, purple and lime green (the more formal one is grey and purple on white
lawn). I need this much colour to blend
in – as much as I can!
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Inside the CIMMYT minivan: kameez for colour
Sunday night we ate at the Pyongyang Restaurant: North
Korean food Bangla style. To me it
seemed pretty faithfully Korean and very tasty.
P and D were grateful for the opportunity to have a beer (I had a
massive cold at this point and was just glad to have our meetings over and to be
going to bed soon). The meal finished
with complimentary soup I’d not seen before: diced tomato, watermelon and
pineapple in a slightly sweet clear liquid.
It was like a strangely wet fruit salad, and very refreshing.
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