Dhaka, Bangladesh, a regular journey of unique beauty

Just regular shots around Dhaka ... how many Westerners visit Bangladesh -- the rickshaw capital of the world - each rickshaw decorated differently?

Every time I am there, on my way to or from Nepal, I just stay in the airport. But this time the jet was delayed for inspection and repairs.

Accompanied by two elderly Austrian gentlemen we decided to go exploring. We took off in a taxi, traveling randomly northwest. Bangladesh has some places that are heavenly beautiful, how would one know?

This is a collection of what we saw as we went. From the airport, through heavily traveled roads, from brink plants in the Turag River to a picnic ground, and a celebration location for locals; A hardworking people, with order, gardens, flowering plants everywhere, mixed with poverty, dirt roads, one of a kind pleasure boats, growing into a modern future, with a view to their past.

Dhaka, Bangladesh, Dude! Don't sit here you could be beaten

I stopped a fight between 15 men at 3 am in the Dhaka Airport, over one man wanting to sit here. These were the only comfortable seats left in the room, where one could concievably have a nap. The puffed up official guy had some kind of strap stick thing I didn't want to see what he was going to do with it.

When the fight broke out it was obviously stupid, so I picked up my stuff and walked very close to the combatants. They stopped fighting almost immediately. A number of other men in the airport trailed behind me in support of my gesture.

When I returned to Dhaka 5 weeks later, and forgot about the fight, I went to sit here and was told "Madam you may not sit here" even though no body else was, and as you see above the rest of the airport was full of men going to be labor in other countries. It's kind of like slave labor. Globalization, who would ah thunk it.

It is slave labor.

Since they have so little control over their lives they have to control others even when it is completely ridiculous. As you see there is no sign or any indication that sitting here could be a problem.

So I threw my bags on the floor and laid down on the nice white marble floors for about 45 minutes right where I was. I was actually quite angry because I was so exhausted but trying to calm down.

Men from the other rooms came in to watch me, I guess it was better than the TV blaring along in Hindi (not Bengali)in the other room - "Hey great first act - what does she do next?"

I was not a happy camper. It was very difficult to get pure drinking water. I went to a guard in a clear plastic booth and showed him my passport, and I read it to him in English the part where it is printed in the front asking representatives of foreign nations to render aid. I pointed out that I needed some aid in getting water, because I could not drink from the sink or fountain, and with no local currency I could not even pay to get water.

20 mins later I had been escorted to the money changers - and bought some very expensive bottled water from the restaurant. The money changers saw how respectfully the soldiers were treating me and asked - are you a reporter? I assured them that I definately was a reporter. (A Web reporter that is).

Good luck going through Dhaka or Dacca or whatever. I have to say the children in town treated me like a queen - which is another story!

Here is Peacekeeper Shamsur of Dhaka, Bangladesh, award winning Peace Officer, currently with Immigration, who befriended me in hopes of getting a better report for his country -



And behind the nearby desk is the argumentative official who chased me away from the open comfortable seating -


I believe that it is not always possible to understand what is going on in a foreign country, but violence is never good.