Bill has wanted to go here for years.  It’s not an easy place to get to.   Only a few cities offer flights and lucky us, one was Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

I was excited to ditch the uber conservative clothing and handle the heat like an American with my arms exposed.  While standing in line to board our flight I learned that Dhaka is Muslim like Saudi Arabia.  Are you kidding me?  I googled my heart out as I walked to the jetway to see what women tourist wear in Bangladesh. Phew.  Shoulders and knees should be covered.  I’m not looking up the tattoo part – wish me luck!

Dhaka is Bangledesh’s capital city and one of the most densely populated cities in the world.  I’ll bet you have clothing in your closet made here.  They are the second largest exporter of garments in the world.

I was prepared for Bangladesh to be India on steroids as far as cleanliness and crowding.  The cleanliness was equal and the holiday squashed the crowded theory.

The Bengalese were still celebrating Eid so many shops and businesses were closed.  I’m going to count that as lucky for us.  We don’t shop and it made what would have been utter gridlock more manageable.

The sky is blanketed in a thick haze like froth on a latte.

*Click on photos to enlarge. Click on blue words for a video or article.

People could not have been nicer.  Bill and I were movie stars when we got into “Old Dhaka”.   It was crazy how many people stopped us to take photos with them.  People were sneaking videos with their cell phones.  Some were clever enough to pretend to take a selfie and capture us the moment we stepped behind them.  Not many light skin foreigners touch down in Bangladesh, especially in Old Dhaka, and if they do they most likely stay in the commercial corridor.  My white hair and Bill, a giant by their standards, made quite a spectacle.

It was beyond hot and humid.  We dripped in sweat.  The first day spent exploring offered little shade and quickly wiped us out from walking in the hot sun.    

We explored the University campus and their art center.  The upcoming celebration of their independence had craftsmen busy.  The colorful art was made to sell at the event to help pay for the large animal displays made out of bamboo.

University bus

On day one we hit the flower market late and much of the flowers had been sold.  Weddings are a big event and even bridal cars are adorned with flowers.  Day two we went back a bit earlier in the day and saw the aftermath of a fire that took place in the wee hours of the morning.   The cause yet to be determined.

Rickshaws (electric and pedal), tuk-tuks, and people  fill the space between motorcycles, cars, trucks and busses like batter in a waffle iron.  The busses are not only scratched from top to bottom but the grooves run deep.  It is utter chaos.  Near-misses have to be in the gazillions every day.  Horn honking is a sport and rickshaw drivers raise a hand to the towering bus drivers demanding they make way.

It was thrilling.  The roads are filled with pot holes and the metal, suspension-less rickshaws jarred our spines like a chiropractor with a jackhammer.  The vehicle next to us so close that I wanted to high five the driver.

Everything feels neglected.  Bangladesh is currently run by an interim government.  A student run uprising in August 2024 brought down the authoritarian and tyrannical (per new articles) Prime Minister.  Our guide said half the country wants to become East Pakistan under Muslim rule and the other half wants to become part of India.  Newspaper articles say they want democracy like the USA. So who knows – for now their future is uncertain.

Down at the river, it was super interesting to watch a team of workers unload a huge shipment of watermelon by hand,  carrying heavy baskets on their heads across narrow planks and up a hill.  True beasts of burden.  The boat arrived on the highly polluted Buriganga River or the Old Ganges. The water is black as night, caused by industrial and human waste.  All the fish have died and it is considered to be biologically dead. 

Of course we learned the extent of the river’s death after we boarded a flimsy, flat bottom, seatless, wooden boat to cross the river to see their ship breaking yard so I could take photos.  I lost all interest in taking photos while the nothingness of our boat teetered on the wakes of passing motorboats.  All I envisioned was us getting splashed or worse, falling in.  I captured a couple quick photos – my lens not long enough and more importantly I wanted to be on land on the correct side of the river.  Get me outta here!!!

The shipyard is small compared to one in Chittagong , Bangladesh which employs 200,000 people and handles a fifth of the world’s ship breaking.  This yard employs approximately 15,000 workers earning about $5 a day to work this grueling job in the hot sun under hazardous conditions.

The trip was fascinating. And heartbreaking.  Colorful, dirty and chaotic.  It is so hard to believe that we can live on the same planet in such vastly different situations.

Paying for the storage of his shoes