Amar desh New Zealand

From Darjeeling we had a darkened border crossing into the north of Bangladesh and then made our way by cycle-rickshaw, local bus and rickety train to Dhaka.
The people of Dhaka, all 12 million or so, proved themselves to be incredibly curious about our presence and thought nothing of crowding around us and staring while we ate, shopped (you can never have too many kaftans) or got our beards trimmed (mine at least). The separate curtained booths in some restaurants for women (and their male escorts) did give us a place to eat without forty pairs of eyes on every handful - literally - of rice going into the mouth.

Short term tourists are very rare and the universal question asked, or yelled from passing rickshaws or buses is 'what country?' Followed by (thank you to that beard - mine) 'are you Muslim?'

After the congestion and madness of Dhaka it was a pleasure to cruise (in first class, including a private cabin, stewards and access to the first class deck) southwest towards the border with India for a day on a Bangladeshi institution - one of the 'Rocket' paddle steamers.Being on the river did mean we could engage in some nature spotting, including the Gangetic Dolphin and a rather laid back crocodile (I got my subservient 'wife' to go and poke it to see if it was in a biting mood before approaching).

S