Our Biman airlines flight to Kathmandu, with a 24 hour layover in Dhaka, was unforgettable.  It was an old Fokker that saw better days in the 60's.  Dad's seatbelt was inoperable, while my tray table was broken and wouldn't stay up.  During takeoff, the bulkhead panel litterally fell over, hitting the passengers in the front.  Condensation was dripping down on us and flies were buzzing over our faces while warbly Indian music played at inconsistant speeds, slowed and finally stopped when the tape got chewed up in the player.  I thought we were done for when the pilot made a massive overcorrection while steering around a cloudbank.  Still, the flight attendant kept a cheery smile on her face.

By some miracle we landed in Dhaka in one piece and immediately set out to see the city from the back of a pedicab.  I had never before seen such poverty and filth in my life.  Half naked dirty kids playing in shallow pools of green goo and families living out of cardboard.  It was so surreal.  We stopped at the docks to see a rusty ferry pulling in with piles of people hanging off it in every direction.  I didn't know that many people could physically occupy that little space.   After a day of this, I think we were ready to move on.

Work brings me to Dhaka.. Weather is not so good here, was informed that it is monsoon season so I'm here in my hotel room watching the semi-finals of the Roland Garros writing this blog that will remind me or my first impression of the city.  This blog is basically for me =)
I know that this is one of the poorest countries in the world, but when I stepped in the International airport, the first thing I've noticed is that their airport looks so much better than the ones in New Delhi (which looks like everything is going to fall apart).  While going to the van which was parked in the drive way, my colleague was almost hit by a car! The car was coming so fast considering that it was about to reach the end of the drive way, with its sirens sounding loudly.  The colleague was caught off guard, I was so shocked but the driver didn't mind at all.  I thought there was an emergency because of the speed of the car but later we realized that it was only escorting VIPs.. And it almost hit my friend! Welcome to Dhaka.

I noticed so many things about the country during the 15-minute drive to the hotel.  It was only supposed to be 5-minutes (according to the driver) but since the traffic was bad, we had to wait a little longer.  There are double decker bus here, though it doesn't look as good as the ones in London, it serves its purpose - a mode of transportation.  I haven't seen any traffic light, but I saw a traffic policeman directing the traffic with his right hand holding the umbrella and his left hand on his hips.. This really looks funny that all of us had to laugh while seeing him.  Too bad, my camera isn't prepared, I wasn't able to get a picture.  They also have the tuktuks (like the ones in Bangkok and the ones in Bombay) I just don't know what they call it here.  I also saw a cow in the sidewalk of the highway!  And buses picks up passengers in the middle of the road (this doesn't surprised me because it happens a lot in the Philippines).

Bongo bazaar is the famous market place where you can buy really cheap things.  But since shopping isn't on my list, I didn't go there.  Security seemed to be a big deal here. We were reminded not to travel alone because it is not safe.  I just went to get DVDs in the shop located at the hotel.  Though, the price is not as cheap as the ones in Jakarta, I was told that the quality was better.  We also ate at the buffet restaurant in the lobby of Radisson.  I don't really wanna talk about the dinner because it was nothing special. 

This is my first time in Dhaka and I'm not in my adventurous self, but the next time I come back here I'll make sure to go out the hotel to experience the city itself.  I'm sure the city has more to offer.

We had a day or so in Dhaka before we were due to head to Sri Lanka. We got the bus back from Bogra without any problems, and found an autorickshaw at the bus station to take us into the centre of Dhaka. The hotel we asked to be taken to looked a bit grotty, so we walked around for a while trying to find somewhere better. In the end we ended up back at the first hotel. At one point a complete stranger came up to us on the street and offered to help us; he gave us his business card and said we could call him if we had any problems. It's not the only time that we came across helpful people like this. Unlike in India, in Bangladesh we felt that we could be pretty sure that such offers were genuine.

One of our best experiences in Bangladesh was going to post a parcel home. We'd accumulated a lot of souvenirs from our time in India, and so we headed to the main post office, where we were lucky to bump into a guy who did parcelling up of things. This was done by sewing them up in a sheet of heavy fabric, a task which he performed very carefully with a large needle. Having created this bundle, he went around the seams and sealed them with sealing wax. He also helped us buy the correct amount of stamps and get the address label filled in correctly, since we didn't speak Bangla. For all this he charged 200 taka (US$4), which seemed like a good deal to us. The postage on the parcel to the UK was about 1500 taka, which was very cheap considering its size and weight.

When we came to head to the airport for our flight out we managed to find an autorickshaw who used the meter, so we gave him a big tip; he seemed very pleased with that. We ate in a suprisingly good restaurant at Dhaka airport, and waited for our flight.

We'd got two main places we wanted to see near Bogra: the archaeological sites at Paharpur and Mahastangarh. Fate would conspire against us, however. If there's one thing we should have learnt, it's not to try to run to a tight schedule in the Indian subcontinent.

We headed to Mahastangarh on day 1. It's a short bus ride from Bogra, and we got up there easily enough. The hardest thing seemed to be to get a rickshaw to the bus station; in spite of the fact that there are thousands of them around, they don't always seem to know where they're going!

Mahastangarh is the remains of an old citadel, which consists now of the remains of the perimeter wall and a small museum. It was a nice day out, and we enjoyed wandering around. We got a rickshaw to take us from the bus stop up to the site, and to wait for us. Once in the site we got latched onto by some students who took it upon themselves to show us around, and then at the end asked us for money. We could kind of see it coming. We sat for a while and listened to some locals playing music out on the grass, which was a really enjoyable experience because it felt like we were seeing the country for real. The museum on the site had a few interesting artefacts from the site. There was a small shop outside the main gate where I bought a small wooden vase as a souvenir; I wanted to have a souvenir from Bangladesh, but we hadn't seen much to choose from.

When the rickshaw driver had taken us back to the main road, where we could get the bus from, we got into a bit of an argument about what a reasonable fare would be. We should have agreed beforehand, but for some reason hadn't done so on this occasion. However, we were pleasantly surprised when passers by interceded on our behalf. He was trying to claim that we'd been with him all day, rather than the couple of hours it had actually been. We agreed a price in the end, which was only a little higher than what we'd expected it to be.

Our second day in Bogra was spent seeing the sights of Bogra itself. We spent a while wandering around trying to find the remains of some building or other in the north part of town, with no success. After that we visited the rajbari (large private house) in the centre of town, which has been filled with a motley collection of whatever antique furniture they could get hold of, and has a small amusement park in the garden complete with concrete animals. It's a bit of a strange tourist attraction, and a bit underwhelming.

For the third day we'd saved up the highlight of our time in Bogra: a trip to Paharpur, which was supposed to be a much more impressive archaeological site than Mahastangarh. However, as luck would have it, the day we'd chosen turned out also to have been chosen for a "hartal": one of the frequent strikes that occur in Bangladesh. This meant that there were no buses running in the direction we wanted to go, and we were stuck. With only a couple of days left until our flight out of Dhaka we were forced to give up on going, and return to Dhaka the following day. The bus company office in Bogra was doing a good impression of being closed, presumably because of the strike, but we discovered that it was really open and managed to buy a ticket for a bus the following day.

I visited cox's bazar in January 2008. I was quite impressed with the new development these days. I stayed in Hotel Seacrown, its a small hotel with 100 rooms, but one thing i can say for sure that its a very well maintained hotel. Its not a five star hotel, but the service and quality of room is not less then any five star. I was impressed with the location of the hotel, its right on the beach. i stayed in room 601 and i can tell you one thing the view is breathtaking, specially the sun set. you can see the sun setting laying in your bed. The food is good, and the staffs are really friendly. Enjoyed the most with my family, I recommendation, go and have a break at night with your wife or husband in the beach as they provide night beach security. From my part the most enjoyable days i have past in cox's bazar because of Hotel Seacrown.

Having seen Dhaka over the course of a few days, it was good to get out of the city and see a different side of Bangladesh. We had so few days in Bangladesh that we'd decided to choose one town outside Dhaka to base ourselves in, and do a little exploring around the area. The town which we chose, in the end, was Bogra. We chose Bogra because of its proximity to some interesting-sounding archaeological sites, as well as its relative closeness to Dhaka.

We headed to the bus station in Dhaka to get a bus up to Bogra. This was much more challenging than it had ever been to do this sort of thing in India, because there is not that much English spoken in Bangladesh, and we didn't speak a word of Bangla, needless to say. Eventually a helpful passer by helped us locate a booth where we could buy a ticket on a bus to Bogra with one of the many private bus companies operating the route. I think that he picked us a pretty good one; the bus was pretty modern and comfortable compared to all of the buses we'd been on in India. The other thing that we noticed on the journey was that the road was generally better maintained than the roads in India. As we passed through rural areas you could see people working the fields, occasionally with machines. This is something we hadn't really seen in India, where everything seemed to be powered by animals. It was a surprise to us that Bangladesh should seem more developed than India in a number of ways.

On arrival in Bogra we had to get a pedal-rickshaw from the bus station into the centre of town. This turned out to be the cheapest rickshaw trip ever; it really makes you realise how little money people must have. Some helpful locals found us a rickshaw and told the driver where to take us, and told us that we shouldn't pay more than 4 taka, which is about 7 US cents. The richshaw was heavily laden down with us, and our two big rucksacks, and the journey took around 20 minutes. The cheapness of the fare was just staggering. We paid the guy 10 taka, and he was still trying to give us change, which we refused.

We had to try a couple of hotels to find a place which looked OK, but this was pretty easy. The hotel had satellite TV, and we were able to watch the English Premiership football, as we had been able to in India. The timezone difference meant that we could watch afternoon games in the evening after we'd got something to eat, which was very convenient.

Hotel de Crystal Garden welcomes you in Dhaka. All the rooms are with all modern amenities. Great restaurant. Cozy and comfortable stay in Dhaka.

Looking back on our year away, of all of the places we visited, this was probably the hardest one to just turn up in and expect things to go smoothly. That's not a comment on the place or the people, merely on the experiences that we had.

It all started with us coming the closest we ever came to having nowhere to stay for the night. The flight from Kolkata to Dhaka was delayed by three and a half hours, so by the time we got to Dhaka airport it was after 9pm. Then we had to negotiate a taxi fare into town. The taxi drivers' negotiating technique seemed to be to start high and go higher; whereas the Lonely Planet suggested it should be about 80 taka, we were quoted 500, then 650 etc. Eventually we managed to get someone to take us for 200, but he refused to go the last block because we hadn't paid enough. Still that wasn't too bad; we'd been deposited in roughly the right part of Dhaka.

Then we had to find a hotel. It turned out that of the two listed in the Lonely Planet, one was no longer there, and the other showed no signs of life. All of the other hotels on the street had a no-foreigners rule (which is pretty common in Bangladesh). We spent a long time walking up and down, and being generally hassled by rickshaw drivers. Our packs were feeling very heavy indeed, and it all got a bit desperate. I've never had to sleep on the street, and I didn't want Dhaka to be the first place I tried.

Just as we were on the verge of getting in a rickshaw, heading to the Hilton, and letting the credit card sort out the problem (OK, so there was a way out - we weren't that screwed), we came across a hotel that was open, would take foreigners, and even had rooms free. For only 400 taka a night (US$7.50), we got a nasty room with an even nastier carpet, and lots of creepy-crawly things. Still, better than being on the street!

Our sightseeing in Dhaka should have commenced the following day, but Zoe was in the process of trying to shake off a terrible cough which she'd developed in Kolkata, and it wasn't shifting. We did potter around to see a few sites, but in some places they wouldn't let us take cameras in, and we didn't want to leave them in the unlocked wooden draw at the gate, so we missed out on a couple of things. I don't think that the sights are quite on the scale of some other cities we'd been to, in any case, so we weren't too disappointed. One of the best things that we did was to visit the Hindu quarter where Zoe bought some shell bracelets, which are a really unusual souvenir.

The best thing about Dhaka was to contrast it with the cities we'd been to in India. We'd expected conditions in Bangladesh to be worse than those in India, in terms of poverty etc, because of what we'd heard in the media. But, our experience in the city was that it was slightly more organised than the cities in India (there are pavements, place to put litter), and so had a slightly nicer feel to it. There seemed to be some key cultural differences between the two countries that made Dhaka a slightly more pleasant place to be, all else being equal.

Another thing which makes visiting Bangladesh different to visiting India is that almost no-one does. This means that everyone's interested in you, so you do get looked at a lot. But it also means that there aren't so many people who are clued up on the best ways to rip you off, which makes a pleasant change.

We managed to find some little local places to eat, where the food wasn't great but we felt that we were experiencing local life. We'd always get good treatment from the restaurant owners.

We spent a total of four days in Dhaka, before heading off the Bogra for three days. On returning from Bogra we had another two days in Dhaka.

I'm in Bangladesh, more info later

Ok, finally able to write again.  When I arrived in Dhaka I breezed through customs and came outside into chaos.  Thankfully, Sanjida was there with a very big sign with my name.  She grabbed my hand and whisked me through the chaotic crowd to a minitaxi and we were quickly whizzing through the busy traffic of Dhaka.  I have never seen traffic like this in my life.  As usual, traffic signs and lights appear non-existent and everyone drive full-speed.  I don't think the people of Dhaka have figured out what a brake or turn signal is yet, but they are very familiar with the gas pedal and horn.  The worst part is the pollution, I was already having a bit of a cough in Nepal but it is now a bad respiratory infection.

After driving across town for nearly an hour, we arrived at Sanjida's where I was instantly introduced to nearly every aunt, uncle, and cousin, most of whom live in the same building.  I was treated to a true Bengali feast with beef, chicken, salad, rice, and a specially made coke and sprite tail by her friendly cousin.  It was her aunt's anniversary so I understand she had made the food for her well-wishers.  At this point, I sadly learned that the family was in mourning after Sanjida's father's sudden following a stroke on December 20th.  The family all sat around and watched while I tried to eat unsuccesfully Bengali style (with my hands) and then asked me all about myself.

I was then taken to her uncle's apartment to meet her grandmother and more cousins.  At this point, Legi and his driver arrived.  Sanjida had arranged for me to stay with him during my time in Dhaka I think maybe because she believed I'd feel more comfortable there.  I somehow fitted my bag into his Toyota Corolla and drove an hour to his place near the embassies.  Legi is a fashion designer working with clothing that eventually makes its way to Target, Walmart, Macy's, and JCPenney's.  (So if you ever wondered where those pants you are wearing came from, it's here).  He's clearly very well off and has a nice apartment with a live-in maid and live-in driver.  So once I arrived, he had me give my clothes to the maid to be cleaned and offered me more food which I had to refuse because I was completely stuffed over at Sanjida's.  If anything, the entire time in Bangladesh I almost felt sick from eating too much.  Seconds were always heaped onto my plate which already had large portions and it was often difficult for me to eat at all since the last meal/tea had occurred so recently.  Thankfully, all the food was delicious!

    The hotel owner walked me across the street to his hotel (which coincidently was the one I had written down to possibly stay at from the Lonely Planet guide).  He put me in a double room so I could sleep and change.  I slept for several hours then walked downstairs where he was waiting for me with his son.  He put me onto a rickshaw destined for the bus station.  There I was ushered onto a waiting bus and given the seat of honor behind the driver.  It was at this point I began noticing what I had been warned about, the entire bus and everyone outside of it was staring at me in amazement and clearly talking about me.  Occasionally, a brave soul would dare to speak to me to ask where I'm from, my name, occupation, father's name (apparently very important around here), whether I'm married, and what I think of Bangladesh.  These by the way are the only questions I was ever asked and I was asked them repeatedly.  Once someone asked the question they would tell others and I could hear whispers of "America" and "NeeKolee".

I was dropped off in the "village" of Kantangar where many locals looked at me in wonder.  I hopped a bike-cart (for lack of a better word) along with a young boy on his way to school to the temple.  It was a gorgeous ride through many farmfields where I could clearly see the locals working and doing their daily chores.  They all seemed unfazed by the sound of the bike going by, but occasionally someone would glance over a notice me.  At this point, chaos ensued as the person would tell the others and they would begin waving enthusiastically and children would start running after me as fast as they could to get a look.  When we reached the school, no joke, every single child (there were around 80) ran up to me waving and saying hello.  I shook one of their hands and the kid showed everyone her hand proudly.  I took as many pictures as I could but was really surprised by how excited they all were.

At the temple, which was quite extraordinary and covered in tiny delicate carvings, I met a guy who spoke English and also seemed excited to meet an American.  He joined me on my ride back and had us stop at a CDA training center where he was staying.  The woman who ran the place showed me around where prominent local leaders are taught ethics and agriculture.  They gave me cha and sweets before sending me on my way.  When I reached the village, all the locals seemed to have learned I was in town.  It was all men, but there were around 60 of them standing around watching me eerily.  I stood and waited for the bus but the next one just drove right by.  One of the local elders laughed and showed me how to signal the driver, so when the next came a minute later I waved goodbye.

Back in Dinajpur, I checked out of the hotel and was told there was no charge.  I then took a bus to Saidpur.  Once there I was told I could only get a bus to Patgram (near the border) from Rangpur so I rode an extra hour or so.  The bus driver than handed me to a very young rickshaw driver who hauled me across town to the Patgram bus.  When I arrived 4 hours later, a very nice rickshaw driver who spoke not a word of English took me to my desired hotel.  There was a blackout so I was led by candlelight up to my room.  The driver gave me his combo lighter/flashlight to use and then took me to the only restaurant he deemed suitable.  He ordered something for me- ended up being fried chicken and goat with rice and cha.  As we were sitting there eating, an older local man came up to sit across from me very excitedly.  He was a local schoolteacher and was very happy to have someone who spoke English.  From that point on he asked me questions grinning the entire time and shouting to the entire restaurant that I was his friend.  (He reminded me a lot of the old king in the Princess Bride who when told she's going to commit suicide just says "That's nice,  She kissed me!"  Odd reference I know.)  He then led me across the street to buy a flashlight before saying goodbye.  I spent a few minutes with my flashlight back on the hotel before the power popped on.  (I think the room looked a lot better in the dark sadly.)  I read for a bit and went to bed, hacking away.

 In the morning, the maid made me breakfast and I watched CSI on TV.   Around 10:30 am, Legi's driver picked me up to drive me to Sanjida's.  We then drove to the immigration and passport office where I spent many hours of my life I would have preferred to spend elsewhere.  It's a very dingy office where people tell you one thing now and another thing the next minute and everyone seems angry and confused.  Thankfully Sanjida yelled at the right people and shoved me in the right lines so that I got a paper saying I'd have my change of route permit the next day at 2pm.  (I needed this to cross the border by land, since I flew into Bangladesh). 

We then were off to the National Museum which houses everything from plants to statues to famous paintings to thrones.  I woefully know very little about Bangladesh, but learned quite a bit more during my time there.  Sanjida introduced me to the museum curator who visited with me a bit before returning to work.  (By the way, Sanjida seems to know everyone in Dhaka.  I had arranged beforehand to have a guy in Dhaka purchase a train ticket for me.  When I showed her his phone number she told me that she knew him and we were actually supposed to have gone to a party at his house the night before.)  We also had lunch at the crowded library cafe next door where an international film festival was going on.

We took the car to Sanjida's and then a rickwshaw to the post office.  We went outside and a man sitting on the ground took my things and placed recycled cardboard pieces around them.  Then he tied it tight with string, followed by sewing cloth over the entire package.  After that he sealed it with wax.  I then addressed it and walked it into the dingy post office where a man lazily smoked a cigarette as he stared at the words USA for a very long time.  Eventually it was sent off and I was told it should only take two weeks, though I will certainly be impressed if it arrives in the next decade!  It pretty much holds all the gifts for everyone, so if it never arrives, I'm sorry!

After this, we went back to Sanjida's where I took a nap.  When I awoke, her mother had made a meal for me but sadly I was not hungry and could barely eat anything, which I think is considered an insult (though definitely unintended).  Legi then arrived with his driver and I was whisked back to his place.

The next morning the driver arrived at 9:30 while I was still finishing my breakfast.  So I hopped in the car and tried to ignore the constant flow of people banging on my window begging for money or trying to sell me everything from cookies to wall-size maps. 

At Sanjida's we put my bags in her spare room before taking off looking for her bank.  I gave her some wild rice from Minnesota and tried to explain why it was black to them.  Her mother began crying and Sanjida told me her mother was saying that her father would have loved me and to try the rice.  On the way to the bank, we stopped at her aunt's for more cha (tea) and plenty of food.  My cough was very bad at this point and her aunt gave me some Nyquil and Dayquil she had gotten from her son who lives in Texas now.  After this we walked to the LIberation War Museum where one of Sanjida's friends gave me a tour.  In Bangladesh's war for independence from Pakistan countless atrocities were committed and people were slaughtered in the millions.  I knew nothing of this, but it was very sad and the photos remind me of those from the Holocaust. 

Next we went back to my favorite immigration and passport office where we were told I could not get my permit until 5pm.  Amazingly, some yelling and insults from Sanjida promptly produced the permit and we were able to leave that awful place never to return.  Sanjida then took me to a clothing technology fair for an hour or so where we had cha with one of the presenters who knew Sanjida's father.  Finally we stopped by a department store to use her sister's discount to purchase a salwar kameez for me to wear in rural Bangladesh and India.  Sanjida also bought some farewell gifts for me, despite paying for basically everything during my entire stay in Dhaka.

I then took my last ride through the polluted traffic of Bangladesh to the train station where Sanjida helped find my train.  I luckily was sharing my cabin with a family who owned a hotel in Dinajpur, my next destination.  They helped me get situated and I slept surprisingly well (the Nyquil may have helped) during the overnight train ride until he woke me at 4:30am at our destination.

This was my first time ever being with an escort, so was feeling really nervous at first, but Aneeka really put me at ease with her warmth and lovely personality. I savoured every moment with her. Not only does she look simply amazing, but she is the one of the warmest and most genuine people i’ve ever met anywhere. My only regret was that i couldn’t spend more time with her and get to know her better. I miss her loads and i want to see her again at the earliest opportunity smith_adlin@yahoo.com

On this side of the world, Sunday is a normal working day. To accomodate our friends here, Sunday meeting is not until 7:30pm. Being such a beautiful day (as all others), Sara and I decide to spend some quality, restful time on the Buriganga River. After running some small errands, we arrive to the Sadarghat boat terminal via horse carriage. We are surprised at how quick we are able to negotiate our personal river tour for only 50 taka ($1 = 70 taka).

Off we go!

The panorama of the river life is facinating. In the middle of the river, which is approximately 500 meters wide, an unbelievable array of boats lay before us in which people are bathing, cooking, or just resting and observing, while hodes of people cross in small canoes, and ships ply up and down.

Along the river's edge people have come to wash their clothes, wash themselves, or even wash their vegetables.

This whole experiance only consumes 30 minutes of our day!! ....and you wonder why we have difficulty documenting our experiances when every time we turn around, we see something new..

The rest of the afternoon was spent meandering down the famous Hindu Street which contains an interesting row of ancient houses sheltering countless shankharis (Hindu artisans); eating chicken and rice with our hands (and slurping lassi) at the "all male" Al-Razzaque restaurant; riding a rickshaw in rush-hour; meeting up with Rick and John at the bach; visiting one of our friends at a children's hospital (big "wow" factor); having a visit with a dear friend who is sufferring from an undiagnosed mental illness (family too poor to get her to a doctor); and then off to our 7:30pm Sunday meeting.. We stay after for supper and visit, then home by 10:30...

all in a day's rest in the life of two foreigners, turned Bengali..

Today we have seen two starkly contrasting realities. One is the visit to the children's Village; and the other the slums of Dhaka along the railroad tracks.

The SOS Childrens village is an oasis amongst turmoil, situated in central Dhaka. One of our friends, Mucco, works in the administration and was kind to set up a tour for us.

SOS Children's Villages is an independent, non-governmental and social development organization, which has been active in the field of children's needs, concerns and rights since 1949. Its activities focus on neglected and abandoned children and orphans, as well as disadvantaged families. This village has 15 "villages" (or apartments). Each with 10 children.

If a child cannot stay with his/her biological family, his/her right to care, protection and equal opportunities should still be guaranteed. This is the basic principle according to which SOS Children's Villages makes it possible for children to be part of a family once again by providing family-based care.

In 1949, Hermann Gmeiner laid the foundation stone for the first SOS Children's Village in the small Tyrolean town of Imst (Austria). Shocked at the plight of so many children left orphaned and homeless after the Second World War, he pioneered a family approach to child care based on four principles.

The goal at all SOS Children's Villages is to prepare and equip the children for an independent future. Each child receives education and training according to his or her needs, so that when the time comes to leave the SOS Children's Village, they are able to stand on their own two feet and achieve the goals of self-reliance, financial independence and social integration.

____________________________

In the afternoon, Sara and I both felt compelled to also visit the destitute. Too poor to pay rent , they are confined to the real estate along side the railway tracks - "no mans land". Their shanty tarps held up by poles constitute their home. It is evident that foreigners are rare. People come out to meet us and treat us like dignitaries. We are overwhelmed by the number of children and babies. Most of which are malnourished. As we walk down the tracks, we are somewhat speechless as we see the condition in which these people live.

Dhaka is charged with a raw energy that is at once enraging and engaging. Millions of frenzied pursuits constantly churn together into a collective activity - it is an urban melting pot bubbling over. Nothing seems seems to stand still..

Dhaka, formerly Dacca, is the capital and largest city of Bangladesh.  It is located in one of the world's leading rice- and jute-growing regions. Its industries include textiles (jute, muslin, cotton) and food processing, especially rice milling. A variety of other consumer goods are also manufactured here. The Muslim influence is reflected in the more than 700 mosques and historic buildings found throughout the city. Dhaka is divided into an old city and the new city, and many residential and industrial communities.

Dhaka was founded during the 10th century. It served as the Mogul capital of Bengal from 1608 to 1704 and was a trading center for British, French, and Dutch interests before coming under British rule in 1765. In 1905 it was again named the capital of Bengal, and in 1956 it became the capital of East Pakistan. The city suffered heavy damage during the Bangladesh war of independence (1971). The romanized spelling of the Bengali name was changed from Dacca to Dhaka in 1982.