tuk tuk Archives - Wandering North

Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

A Day in Dhaka

For my second day in Dhaka, Bangladesh I had hired a guide. It seemed unnecessary, in a way. On my first day I had seen and experienced so much and satisfies myself that Dhaka is perfectly fine to explore solo, but it turned out to be a great idea. Having a guide met me get a little deeper into Dhaka, to see things I wouldn’t have found on my own, and it was nice to have the company.

I booked the tour through Bangladesh Eco Adventure and had Afridi as my guide. He was great, as was the tour. I was so happy that he didn’t pick me up in a car. We started out on foot from my guesthouse and hopped in a tuk tuk to get to the market during the busy market.

Tuk Tuks

The tuk tuks in Dhaka are a little different. First of all, they call them CNGs, which stands for compressed natural gas. Unlike the colorful tuk tuks of SE Asia, or Dhaka’s blinged out rickshaw, they are a stately grey. The most notable thing though is that they have cages. When you get in the back there is a metal cage separating you from the driver, and there are cages on the sides, which are locked from the outside. So it is like a little deathtrap. (You can unlock the doors yourself from the inside if you slip your fingers through the cage, so you aren’t entirely confined.) As with tuk tuks everywhere, haggling pre-journey is essential.

Kawran Bazaar

We snaked and jerked through the traffic to the Kawran Bazaar market. And what a market! So lively and crowded, busy and colorful. Piles of produce, sacks of spices, stalls of house wares, labyrinths of raw meat. It was terrific. Men with huge, flat baskets carried fruits and vegetables, apparently acting as porters or personal shoppers for wealthier residents.

Afridi took me into the dark corridors at the heart of the market, where the lighting is uniformly green, to hide imperfect limes and squash. There were bricks of amber colored sugar and mandalas of tobacco leaves. Deeper inside were freshly beheaded goats, still leaking blood onto the floor, and blacksmith areas, where young men beat white hot molten metal into knives.

We also walked through the areas where many of the vendors live, at least during market days. Tiny bunks separated with tarps and repurposed rice sacks. From the roof we got a view over the market.

Alongside the market were train tracks, also busy with less organized commerce.

*me, on the wrong side of the tracks in Dhaka*

Dhaka University

From the market we caught another tuk tuk to the University, which was an impressible Mughal structure surrounded by a green respite. We walked around the grounds and had a bite to eat (lentils and rice) at the outdoor cafeteria. We mostly looked at the art department where there were rows of busts, sculpted by the students, graded, and then mostly left out amongst the gardens. Afridi said this is partly to do with the ban on Muslims making art depicting the human form. It was a lovely spot.

*University lunch spot & mobile libraries*

*me in front of a particularly colourful mural at the University*

Back to the Old City

We took a tuk tuk to the old city, where I had been the day before, but we stopped for local tea from a street stall and drank it in the courtyard of the policeman’s barracks.

*Tea time. Weirdly, served in a “Canada” mug.*

We visited the famous “Star Mosque”, which is beautiful but was under construction, so I didn’t see it in all of its glory. It is amazing the stunning and small mosques hidden in the ramshackle Old City streets.

*A view of the Star Mosque. Not visible are the many stars.*

To the River

We then walked to the river’s edge, near where I had been before, but this time, I got to go out on a boat. It was a comfortable, relatively small, flat-bottom boat paddled by a single boatman.

We floated along the river past commuter boats and ships. It was heavenly. There was a perfect breeze and was quiet and relaxing. The boat ride also took us past factories – the sort that make those cheap, disposable clothes and that both provide jobs and subject workers to horrible conditions. Yeah, those.

All along the river people went about their business and enjoyed the weather. I saw two very little girls standing on the end of a boat, holding up in front of then a small piece of torn cardboard; they repeatedly posed and smiled at it – pretending to take selfies.

The Ship Yards

We docked on the other side of the river and hopped out to explore the shipyards where enormous commercial ships were being repaired and painted. To look for defects or thin spot in the metal, men pounded on the ships’ hulls with hammers, creating a loud cacophony.

We also saw people making enormous propellors by digging the mould into the dirt and then pouring molten metal into it. Once cooled, they smoothed off the rough spots. All of this done without any protective gear of course. Most men wore sandals.

Back on the boat, we went to the other side and had lunch at a local spot near the courthouse where I met several barristers on break. Once I mentioned I was a lawyer the conversation turned to work before I naturally flowed into a chat about Islamic black magic and horror movies.

Wrapping up (and a few more photos)

It was an excellent day that left me exhausted and full.

My first two days in Dhaka had both exceeded my expectations. Not every place can do that. I went to bed excited for day three, where I had almost nothing planned.

Around the World 2022 Asia Bangladesh

Discovering Dhaka, Bangladesh

I like cities, better than nature if I am being honest. Sometimes when I pick a city to visit it is because it has something specific I want to see, but sometimes I am just curious about a city itself. Dhaka, Bangladesh was one of those cities. I had little on a list of ‘sites’ to see in Dhaka; it was just the city itself that appealed. Everything I read about it suggested it would be either a lively chaos or a miserable cesspool. (Seriously, most people had nothing but negative things to say about it.) Either way, I knew it would be interesting. I’ll just say now, I loved it. I loved it instantly and throughout.

It started the moment I stepped out of the airport, having flown there from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. People crowded, shouting, pushing perilous towers of beaten-up luggage, cars bumper-to-bumper, instant heat and smells of people and exhaust and perfume. Terrific.

I got a taxi to take me to my accommodation. Dhaka is notorious for its traffic, and we did spend a little time crawling along, but I didn’t mind because everything was exciting. The overcrowded buses that looked like they had been through 50 years of bad driving, the tuk tuks, bicycles, rickshaws, and trucks, all jockeying for position. I’m sure that if I lived there, I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic, but as a new arrival, everything seemed new and thrilling.

And then we pulled up to the high gate of my accommodation: the Ambrosia Guest House. I can confidently say I would not stay anywhere else in Dhaka. There are no hostels to speak of and most of the budget hotels look grim. The fancy hotels look generic and are in a dull part of town, but this Guest House is in a perfect location for a walker like me, just off a main road but slightly tucked away with a beautiful garden oasis. I had a big private room, use of the common areas, and enjoyed breakfast each morning with the other guests. In the evenings, I had a cigar in the garden.

But I didn’t travel to Dhaka to luxuriate in gardens. So out I went.

The streets in Dhaka are wonderful madness. Endless traffic with a parade of colourful rickshaws, creating a cheerful din of handlebar bells. Old, repurposed, red double-decker buses from the UK. The regular city buses, so beaten up but painted with colourful patterns and sometimes with whimsical hearts or birds. And of course, bicycles, tuk tuks, and people on foot, like me, all moving together. It is chaos, but it works.

Everything is loud, from the voices to the horns and bells, to announcements made over loudspeakers about, presumably, things for sale at the central market.

It is colourful. Not just the buses, but the people, many dressed in bright local or traditional clothing, stalls selling fresh flowers, businesses covered in a riot of multicoloured signage that can only come from a lack of regulation.

Nothing is orderly or slow. It is all terrific and exhilarating.

I walked for a bit, stopping for coffees or teas. I wandered through book stalls and shops at the market and meandered around taking it all in.

I then hailed a rickshaw to take me to the edge of Old Dhaka. That was fun. I discovered later that I paid about 10x more than I should have, but the price I paid was still like $3 cdn, so it was cheap – especially since I was paying for a slightly-built human being to pull me by the power of his own cycling whilst I rode in my sparkly rickshaw seat like a king.

I was dropped off at the Dhakeshwari Temple, a candy-coloured Hindu temple. I can’t tell you much about it, but it was busy with worshippers and had altars of slightly fearsome, slightly comedic looking gods.

From there, I wandered towards the Lalbagh Fort. It wasn’t difficult to find. Buildings in Old Dhaka are not that tall and eventually I saw the walls and the tops of the fort ahead of me. The entrance fee was negligible and well worth it. The fort structures inside are fine. A bit like the Red Fort in Delhi or the Lahore Fort in Lahore, but much smaller. The real treat are the grounds, lovely expanses of green with beautiful flowers.

It was all locals (and me) inside, everyone enjoying the serenity. It was there though that I discovered the Bangladeshis’ fondness for selfies. I couldn’t go a few feet without being asked to take selfies with people. One person asked me to hold their baby for the photo. (I declined that. I’ve never held a baby in my life and was not to start with a stranger’s child.) Eventually I had to start declining the selfies or I would never get where I was going. People asked me where I was from and, smiling, wished me happy travels in Bangladesh. Both the selfies and friendly greetings happened everywhere. Even people that spoke very little English would manage to ask me where I was from and say, “thank you”.

From there I visited the Armenian church, a pretty buttercream and yellow church surrounded by trees. I was let in by the caretaker who unlocked it and was happy to show me around. (All my pictures were lousy, but it is worth visiting.)

I stepped out of the church and was trying to decide which direction to walk next, when a young man approached me. He spoke English and asked me where I was from and if I was lost. I explained I was just looking around and he suggested I walk to the river and told me the way. He gave me his business card and said that if I needed anything, to contact him. That too was not the only time that kind of hospitality happened.

I did walk down to the banks of the Bariganga River. The river is the life of the city, connecting it to the rest of the country. The waterways are filled with passenger ships, cargo ships, and little boats transporting people and goods. It is as energetic as the streets. I sat on the banks of the river, smoked some cigarillos and watched the action. I did not go out on a boat that day but did the next.

After that, I continued to walk the streets of Old Dhaka. Old Dhaka is, well, the oldest part of the city. The streets are narrow, sometimes not even wide enough for cars. The buildings are in poor repair and the streets are lined with shops, restaurants, small mosques, and tons of food vendors.

Mysterious fried snacks filled with vegetables or meat, sweets, fresh juices, overly sweet tea, fruits, plates of curries and biryani. I ate some things where I was able to discern that they were vegetarian. I assumed I would get some sort of food poisoning not matter how careful I was, so why not go down enjoying the local food? (Amazingly I did not get sick on this trip.)

I walked back to my hotel, getting there after dark.

On the way back I saw something I had not expected. I was on a busy street with sidewalks and there was a man lying down. I hadn’t seen this yet in Dhaka, so it caught my attention. Plus, the man was lying in an uncomfortable position…with his eyes wide open…and not moving. I stopped. Also not moving: his chest. I know what a dead person’s open eyes look like and this was it. No one else was stopping, so I walked to the corner, where there was a group of policemen. I approached them and tried to say what I had seen, but they didn’t speak English. I tried to communicate through miming. I pointed, then leaned back with my arms crossed over my chest. Made a slashing movement in front of my throat…but they didn’t seem to understand. So I carried on. At that point it wasn’t exactly an emergency situation, and I did what I could. It was a little jarring to see death in the middle of a city that feels so alive, but you can’t have life without death. You just don’t often see it.

I had only been in Dhaka a half a day but saw so much. I finished the evening in my hotel’s garden with a cigar, reflecting on all of it.

A few practical comments:

As I discussed in a previous post, I did have to get a visa ahead of time, but there was no other hassle entering the country.

Dhaka is inexpensive. Like, really cheap. You can obviously spend more if you want to go to western-style restaurants and cafes, but just walking around, taking local transport, and eating at casual places or on the street, you would struggle to spend $10.

This is one of those places where you should have cash. I brought a mix of Euros and US dollars and exchanged them for Bangladeshi Taka as needed. I did try some ATMS just to see if they worked. Some did. Some didn’t. You can’t expect places to take cards unless they are more upscale.

I felt completely safe, day and night. It is so busy and there are always people around and they are exceedingly helpful. No one was rude or leering or threatening in any way. Probably the only risk is tripping or stepping into a hole in the sidewalk.

It was really hot and humid. Staying clean was impossible. That said, despite the heat, it felt good. There are so many trees and often a nice breeze, especially near the river.

Most people didn’t speak English but often there would be someone around who would speak it a bit if you really need to communicate.

In case I haven’t made it clear: I thought Dhaka was awesome and was happy to have more days ahead.

Asia Pakistan Pakistan/Oman trip 2020

Sufi Night in Lahore, Pakistan

My third day in Lahore I had planned to see more of the city and spend the evening watching dervishes whirl, but the day did not go as planned. The illness I had come down with the night before persisted. I did make it to Sufi night, but that was about the only thing I did.

Still Sick

I spent most of my day in my little, windowless hostel room. I had a fever, I was freezing cold, and I ached all over. I was nauseous and got up to go to the bathroom, which was not attached to my room and lacked basic facilities. Fine when you’re well; but very inconvenient when you’re sick. I just laid there, with not even enough energy to read.

Finally, in the early evening, I went for walk down the block to a market to buy toilet paper and water and I went to a restaurant with a patio. I ordered a platter of assorted vegetarian, Pakistani dishes. I had no appetite, but I figured I should eat something so I had nibbles of the dishes, leaving most of it. I at least wanted to try some local food. It was very good. I wish I had been hungry.

Some pictures from my outing:

That night – Thursday night – was “Sufi Night”. I was going no matter what.

Sufi Night

Every Thursday night, followers of the Sufi faith in Lahore gather at a few places, including the shrine to Sufi Saint Shah Jamal, for an all night gathering of music, dance, and prayer. I went with the manager of my hostel. I am glad I did. I could easily have taken a tuk tuk to the shrine, but it would have been intimidating and I would not have gotten as close.

The shrine was on a crazy busy but small street lined with shops. People and tuk tuks pressed in. I had to cover my head well before we entered the area and I kept it covered, I didn’t see any other obvious foreigners and few women.

We walked into and through the marble shrine and to the back of it, where a couple hundred people gathered outside under some large bodhi (peepal) trees. There were lights strung up and fires burned. The air was thick with incense and hashish smoke.

In the clearing in the middle of the people was a group of musicians, notably drummers, wearing log red robes with drums like wine barrels hung in front of them by a sash around their necks. They beat on their drums with hook-shaped implements, creating the rhythm that drove everything and everyone around it.

The clearing was filled with maybe 15 men; each dressed in a single color, barefoot, spinning. Some of them spun constantly, some spun intermittently. Arms out, head slightly back. Eyes closed or open, but intensely focused on something. Others danced, stomped, thrashed, swayed, kicked legs, waved arms, rolled heads, twitched hips. It was fascinating. Even a little unsettling at times.

My companion forced us right up to the front. We were seated cross-legged on the ground; sometimes just a few inches from a foot or knee.

The dancers seemed unaware of the crowd or each other. Like they were in a trance. Some of them wore bells that made them part of the music.

The crowed swayed and nodded to the beat. It was easy to become entranced just watching (though obviously not to the same degree). Occasionally someone from the audience would join in, briefly.

The most extreme thing I saw was one young man who had been dancing and spinning, kneeled down and began pounding his forehead into the ground along to the music. Someone eventually put some cloth under his head to prevent him from doing more damage to himself.

A couple of times one of the drummers took to the clearing and, while continuing to drum the beat, spun around fast; never losing the pulse of the music.

It was hypnotic and fascinating.

I took photos, but they are all a blur. Literally.

After about 2 hours I had to insist we leave. It just continues until dawn (theoretically) and people come and go. My unsettled stomach insisted that we leave when we did.

I think this is a ‘must do’ if visiting Lahore. If I had been feeling better, I would have liked to wander around the shrine and the neighbourhood more, but what I saw was great.

Winding up in Lahore

I will add that the next day in Lahore was my last. It was the day I would have gone on a day trip out of the city, but I still felt awful. I took antibiotics, but again, I spent most of the day in bed, going out in the late afternoon for a very slow walk to a local park around a library (?), where I sat outside and sipped at a coffee.

That was it for Lahore for me. Not as action packed as I had planned, but yet it was thoroughly satisfying. I look forward to returning to Pakistan someday to see more, but on this trip that was it. I would have one night in Doha and then I was back to Vancouver.

Asia Pakistan Pakistan/Oman trip 2020

More Lahore: the Fort, the Mosque, & the Old City

On my second day in Lahore, My plan was to explore the fort, mosque, and old city. I awoke early at my hostel. There was meant to be breakfast, but no one was up, so I went out for a walk in search of coffee. I walked up to the high street and meandered along until I saw a “food street”. Lahore has one popular and touristy food street, but the reality is that there are multiple food streets, which are basically just streets that are nothing but restaurants and food vendors.

It was a great street for walking. People, well, men actually, were gathering to eat plates filled with meaty offerings, flat breads, rice, and tea. I could not find anything vegetarian and I was later told that coffee is usually had later in the day. I did get a fresh carrot juice and a salty lassi, made by fancily dressed men who beat the thick yogurt into submission with long, wooden poles.

I wandered around a bit more, stopping to peer at the Lahore Museum and the Zamzama Gun (cannon) out front, which features in the opening lines of the Rudyard Kipling novel Kim.

There is a lot of grand architecture up and down The Mall with narrow streets crossing, where the architecture becomes…less grand, but also kind of wonderful. Narrow, colorful, and a bit chaotic.

I went back to my hostel where breakfast was served. Tea and a large, greasy, spicy flatbread with potatoes and carrots served on newspaper and with dishes that felt far from clean, on a table to match.

It was time to go the Badshahi Mosque. I think I could have walked, but it would have taken quite a while, so I jumped in a tuk tuk (which cost next to nothing after only minimal haggling) and was dropped off at the entrance to the mosque.

Head coverings and modest dress were required. I kept my head covered most of the time in Lahore, as it was difficult to know where it was and was not required.

The Badshahi Mosque was stunning. It did look a lot like the grand mosque in Delhi, but was much larger. It was completed in 1773 and is an imposing and delicate structure with graceful minarets and intricate jeweled inlay.

I walked around, watching equal parts of people praying and taking selfies. Clearly, I was in the latter group.

Right next to the mosque is the Lahore Fort, which is a massive citadel spanning 20 hectares and containing multiple buildings. There has been a fort there since at least the 11^th C (there have been settlements there going back to 2000 BC), but the fort that is there now dates back to the 16^th C, with most of it having been rebuilt in the 17^th C.

There is a modest entry fee to the Fort and headscarves were required. I opted not to take a guided tour, and instead just walked around the buildings. Definitely worth visiting, but I got a bit bored after a while and wanted to be back on the streets, so I exited through a gate – not the gate I entered through – and then had no idea where I was. There were decorative tuk tuks waiting and I had one drop me off at a specific to the Old City, where I had the start of a walk planned.

The Old City (aka The Walled City of Lahore) is a walled city within Lahore dating back to the 11^th C, but having been rebuilt since then. Like a medina in a Middle Eastern city, it is a labyrinthine city with appealing, traditional shops and mosques.

The best thing to do is just walk aimlessly, finding what there is to find. Eventually you will find a gate to exit through and if you are lost, there are always tuk tuks to rescue you.

I was delighted. I came across a traditional hookah and tobacco shop run by serious-looking moustachioed men. They used the type of hookahs that have long metal tubes that one smokes through instead of hoses. And the tobacco is not the moist, fruity variety; it is mostly dried and twisted into long thick ropes. The men there did not speak much English, but they understood that I loved their shop and they happily let me take photos.

Just after that, a young man who did speak English called me over to his cart from where he was selling yellow lentil cakes served with spicy sauce. Delicious. He insisted that I have one for free, though I did buy a second one.

I walked to the Wazir Khan Mosque, which I was looking forward to seeing, as it is known for being one of the most ornate mosques of the Mughal period.

After that, I walked around the Old City, browsing and taking pictures and chatting with locals where possible. I bought a new red headscarf.

I feel I should say that at no point did I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. I was dressed respectfully, though I did attract a fair bit of attention due to being an obvious tourist.

By late afternoon I made my way back to my hostel, as I had arranged to take a car to the Wagah Border that evening to watch the daily ceremony. I’ll put that in a separate post.

Lahore was just marvelous. I had plans to explore more of the city and different areas, though that was not to be; but the time I did spend there satisfied me thoroughly. The people were so friendly, the city was exciting, and the sights were impressive. It was exactly what I wanted.

Asia Pakistan Pakistan/Oman trip 2020

Amazing Lahore, Pakistan: Cobra Doctors to Hair Fire

I arrived in Lahore, Pakistan from Muscat, Oman in the morning with some excitement and trepidation. Pakistan is off the established tourist trail – which is a great part of the reason that I chose it, but I still had some apprehension, including: would I have any problems with my e-visa at the airport? I had heard so many stories of visas being denied or difficult to get, but I had gotten mine on the first try online. It seemed too easy. Surely they would flag me at the border for questions and hassles.

The airport’s immigration section was pure chaos. As soon as people arrived in the building they ran towards the immigration desks and pressed in clumps. There didn’t seem to be separate desks for nationals and foreigners, so I queued (or rather, clustered) with everyone else. But soon I was summoned to the desk for diplomats and whatnot. They looked at my e-visa printout (bring your print out!) and stamped my passport without question, and I was off.

I haled a taxi from the airport to my hostel. The driver, who spoke a little English, said he knew the place, but clearly did not, as we drove in circles, before I finally convinced him to call the hostel for directions. His English was ok, but not so good that I could explain to him that I thought the hostel was on the mall, near the museum. He had little interest in my printed maps. He seemed to focus much of his attention on telling me how beautiful I was and leaning in a little too close, patting my leg. I was irritated. Really, this is how my trip starts? With a leering taxi driver? I just started being a bit rude, and he backed off and eventually dropped me off at my hostel.

I had booked the Lahore Backpackers Hostel, which had pretty mixed reviews, but it was a good price, had a good location, and a big rooftop patio, which I figured it where I could enjoy an evening cigar. Both at the moment and in reflection, I had mixed feelings about the place. It looked bad. It may be clean, but is so old and scruffy that it doesn’t look it. My room was like a little cell with a window that looked out onto the desk of the manager. The kitchen and bathrooms were best avoided, but functional. No toilet paper even. That was the bad. The good was exceptional hospitality, a great location, and good wifi.

Upon checking in, I was furnished with tea and a plate of tasty rice and daal. The manager, Sajjad, and assistant manager were great. Super friendly and helpful. They also organized various walking and driving tours for guests, which was handy. But the place was still a bit icky.

On reflection, unless a better budget option opens up in an equally good location, I would recommend the Lahore Backpackers Hostel for the price, location, hospitality, the camaraderie of fellow backpackers, and all the outings they can help organize – but just know what you are getting.

I checked in and then hit the streets. If my initial impressions in the taxi and hostel were not the best, it was all washed away by the delights of walking the city. Lahore is one of those places that just left me exhilarated. It quickened my pulse and piqued my curiosity. It was a riot of color, sound, and bustle. The traffic was congested and loud. People milled about the cars and tuk tuks to and from markets and shops. From the sidewalks, people sold all manner of things, but most notably (to me anyway) fish, vegetables, and bright, wet chains of fresh marigolds and roses.

I visited a street that was well populated by street doctors – not professionally trained doctors, but natural healers and self-taught medicine men. They were lined up in the area between the sidewalk and the row of fish and vegetable sellers who say along the roadside. I met with and observed a couple of dentists, one pulling a tooth from a stoic old man, another fashioning a false tooth. Another was an ear doctor who proudly showed me his home made medical kit. Another was a man at a cart populated with liquids and objects in jars, as well as several fat lizards, some dead and some soon to be dead, waiting to become a potion. The man beckoned me over, lifted up a basket and produced a live cobra, from which he would use the venom in concoctions. I watched as he mixed bits of dead lizard with other odds and ends and boiled it in a small pot for one of his patients. It was all SO interesting. And lest you think I was intruding, the men called me over to show me what their practice was, invited me to watch, and asked me to take pictures.

The willingness, indeed, eagerness, to be photographed was surprising – particularly after being in West Africa recently, where no one wanted to be caught in a picture. I wandered into a labyrinth of fish sellers, who called me over for pictures. One man even posing repeatedly, each time with a new fish.

I took a tuk tuk to a vegetable market area, which was like many others I had seen, but the volume of produce was something extraordinary. Massive cauliflowers and bales of spinach piled high.

A man approached me from I know not where and placed a thick marigold wreath around my neck. It was a lovely gesture, but it was wet and heavy and made me even more conspicuous than my white skin and all black ensemble. I felt very conspicuous and thought “How long do I have to wear this?” The answer: just until I got into my next tuk tuk, where I hung it from the frame, of which the driver seemed to approve.

I walked in to the Old City, which is a walled centre part of Lahore. Old; dating back to about 1000, but still very active today. It is so easy to get lost, but you will find your way to a gate again, and getting lost of part of the fun. Maps of this area are useless.

I climbed to a high mosque for views of the streets.

Upon descending, I was invited to take tea with some men at a bone setter’s clinic. Unlike the street healers, this was in a small storefront, though the medicinal practices seemed equally non-traditional, at least from a western perspective.

I wandered around, delighted by everything I saw.

Everyone was so nice and hospitable. No one was hassling me for cash or aggressively trying to sell me things. They just seemed happy to have me visit (or they ignored me altogether.

One other cool thing was that the manager from my hostel took me to see an area where the commercial trucks are decorated. In Pakistan, the trucks used to transport goods are elaborately painted and decorated with embossed metal panels, flowers, animals, and garlands. They are tall and extraordinary. This area showed where all this tricking out carries on. One man invited me into his truck to see the velvet seat covers and sparkly garlands inside. He did grab my ass as I exited the truck and I scolded him like you would a dog that had peed on the carpet, with a pointed finger and stern “NO”. It irritated me for a moment and then I moved on.

I should say that the ass grabbing truck driver and the leering taxi driver were the only unpleasant issues of that variety that I had; and in neither case did I feel unsafe, just annoyed. Everyone else was exceedingly kind and hospitable.

My final stop that day, with the manager from my hotel was to a tiny hair salon where the specialty is hair cutting…with fire. We entered the salon where two hair dressers and one customer (and a few of his friends) – all young men – were about to start. First, they put some thick goop on his hair and then they LIT IT ON FIRE. While it was burning the stylist combed through the hair quickly as the fire burned off, presumably, the ends of the hair. The whole thing lasted 15-20 seconds. Honestly, I’m not sure it made that much difference to the hair, but it was crazy.

That took me to the evening. I grabbed some dinner from a street vendor who sold rice and curried things for the equivalent of a dollar or two.

I spent the late evening chatting with two other travelers at the hostel. They were both long-term travelers. One a Scottish woman in her 60s on the road for several months. The other a Belgian guy in his 20s cycling from Europe to South East Asia. Pakistan doesn’t attract your typical 19-year-old gap year backpacker.

I slept in my dismal room soundly, satisfied with all I had seen that first day and excited to see more the next day. As it turned out, the next day would be the last good day I would have on that trip. As settled in on that first night I was about 24 hours away from getting very sick.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

On the Temple Trail in Bagan

Bagan is the reason most people travel to Myanmar and I was no exception. Over 2000 temples dating back to the 11th C dotted over a small area. It is flat, so in any direction the skyline is punctuated with stupas, some glittering and others stone, rising up to the sky. They are everywhere and the area isn’t particularly built up, so it is easy to feel like you are off on your own on, discovering an ancient civilization.

There are two Bagans: Old and New. The Old Bagan is in the archeological zone and the New Bagan is a small city, where most of the hostels, hotels, and commercial stuff is. I decided to stay in Old Bagan because I liked the idea that I was steps away from the wonders I traveled there to see. I will say though that there are only a handful of hotels in Old Bagan, they are a bit expensive (by Myanmar standards), and there is nothing to do in the evening, so as a solo traveler it may not have been the best choice, but my hotel was so lovely that I didn’t mind.

I stayed at the Bagan Thande Hotel, which is really like a collection of cottages on beautiful treed grounds along the river. The room wasn’t special but the setting was. The night I checked in, I sat at the outdoor bar and restaurant and smoked cigars in the dark, while live music was played. Very nice.

But that first night I also had to make plans for the next day to see the temples. One has options for visiting the temples. You can walk to some, but they are spread out so some sort of conveyance is needed. The options are: taxi, tuk tuk, bicycle, ebike, and horse drawn carts. A taxi would be dull. A horse cart would be slow and bumpy. Bikes would be fun, but hot and exhausting. And I was initially nervous about the ebike, so I went with the tuk tuk. It was a good option. I didn’t really have to decide what to see; the driver just took me on a 10 hour trip around to see all of the best temples.

We started at 5:30am so I could climb up one of the temples to see the sun rise. A lot of other people had the same idea, so there was about 20 of us standing in the dark, cameras ready, watching the sky lighten. People are annoying, but I had some excellent 60s lounge exotica music that i listened to on my headphones, which set the mood. (Ultra Lounge Mondo Exotica to be precise. Cheesy and awesome.) I felt like handing out breath mints to the other sunrise chasers. A lot of bad breath first thing in the morning it seems. But that did nothing to dampen the beauty of watching the sky turn orange and seeing the temples revealed.

Wonderfully, as the sun came up, about 20 hot air balloons rose into the air, adding a certain whimsical aspect.

It was wonderful. But it got better.

The temples are incredible. They are big and small, gold, white, ochre, and stone. Each with Buddhas inside and some with elaborate interior paintings. Some were very busy with tourists and people praying. Others I had all to myself. Some were just off the main, paved road, and others were reached only down sandy and rocky paths.

They are all a bit similar, but I found each so enthralling that I didn’t tire of them. I loved the architecture and the decoration, the incense and offerings. They felt sacred, even when hosting dozens of camera happy visitors. (Me included.)

I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

We also visited a market in New Bagan…or maybe it was in Nyaung U (a small, nearby town). It was a really good market. Handicrafts, vegetables, candy, meat, and fish. I walked every row and walked away with a traditional tattoo device (basically a long, ornate, metal stabby thing) and a marionette head that is so creepy i’m not sure i can keep it in my home.

I walked down one row and came across an area where men and women were sorting the fermented tea leaves that form the basis for many of the delicious salads in Myanmar. They do eat tea here and it is great when mixed with sesame, ginger, garlic. I said to them how much I liked laphet thoke (pronounced la-pay toe), the main tea leaf salad. Or rather I said “Laphet thoke?” And when they smiled and nodded, I gave a thumbs up. My attempt at making a connection. I didn’t exactly learn much Burmese ahead of time. At that moment, a teenage girl eating a plate of tea leaf salad while working, stood up, brought her plate over to me, and popped her spoonful of tea leaves into my mouth. Now that’s hospitality.

More market wandering and then I was back on the temple trail.

My day was supposed to end with me watching the sun set from a temple but I was exhausted. Plus, I mean, I saw the sun rise. A sun set is basically the same thing in reverse, so I returned to my hotel in the gloaming and fell asleep while smoking a cigar in a chair by the river. An amazing day. The next would bring more temples as I set out on my own.

Asia Myanmar (Burma)

A Picturesque Bridge & Bothersome Pervert

My second day in Mandalay I started by taking a tuk tuk to the U Bein bridge, which is on the outskirts of the city. The drive was pleasant and the bridge picturesque, with a cluster of outside drink vendors and souvenir hawkers at one end.

The bridge is apparently the oldest and the (once?) longest teakwood bridge in the world. That is such an oddly specific category that it failed to impress me. Honestly, one could skip the bridge. It is quite pretty, but not amazing. Still, I am glad I went. The scenery was lovely and the drive was nice.

I had the driver take me back to my hotel after, but stopped along the way when a temple of note popped up roadside and generally snapped some puctures from the tuk tuk.

I went to the Zegyo market, or at least part of it (it is massive) and poked around and walked the streets around the market, which were bustling with commerce.

In the afternoon i did a walking version / variation of a suggested bicycle route in the Lonely Planet. This was a good walk as it took me through some more interesting neighbourhoods had I had seen the previous day in Mandalay. There was a really pretty path along a small river with small houses on one side and people doing laundry or having beers by the river.

The only downside to this walk was one guy who fan ahead of me on a part of the path that had the river on one side and only a high fence on the other. I saw him facing into the trees and I assumed he was peeing, but as I passed, I saw through my peripheral vision that he turned to face me and was masturbating. Moaning and whatnot. I ignored him and walked by. He ran ahead of me and did the same thing. Again, I ignored him. After that second time, he ran up behind me and said “Hey!” I turned around and he was standing there in the middle of the road, dick out, in his hand. Like he thought I hadn’t noticed him before. He took a step towards me and I walked towards him, yelling, “You get the fuck away from me or I’ll cut your fucking throat!” As I said that last bit, I motioned with my thumb across my neck. He obviously got the message and ran away. I carried on with my walk, initially annoyed that this pervert interrupted my stroll and forced me to unleash upon him with with vitriolic death threat (albeit an empty one – I didn’t even have a weapon). But I quickly put it behind me.

I crossed the river and walked up to and along the bank of the Irrawaddy River, to a tallish hotel with a rooftop bar, where I escaped the sun for a while with a cigar and a virgin piña colada.

I took a tuk tuk back to the hotel (it had been a long walk and I had no interest in doing it in reverse).

I spent the evening on the rooftop of my hotel reading and smoking. Ready to get up super early to catch a boat to Bagan.

Asia Indonesia Indonesia Trip 2017

Jakarta

Indonesia.

I arrived in Jakarta from Taipei. A 5ish hour flight. Hit with heat and humidity. Glorious. Caught a taxi to Kota aka Old Batavia aka the old city. It seemed like the most interesting area, with now shabby colonial architecture, canals, and a big square. The city is large and populous; 10+ million people. I am only here for a day and a half and i didn’t have any particular sites or activities in mind. Much of what i read about Jakarta said “skip it”, but how could i? I’m glad i didn’t.

My driver got lost trying to find my hostel which i didn’t mind; it was like a little tour through twisty streets navigating the mad traffic with horn honking and the Imam’s call to prayer as the backdrop.

My hostel is the Wonderloft. A nice hostel. Great location for the area. I booked a private room which was about $18cdn per night but they have capsule style dorms for much less. It is clean and has good hostel amenities: pool table, foosball table, kitchen, and tv. Plus, it has a floor containing only beanbag chairs where silence is mandatory.

It is on a crazy busy side street with no lights or cross walk so every time i come or go i have to step out boldly and let the cars, motorcycles and tuk tuks swirl past me. Each time it feels like a conquest.

The people staying at the hostel Wonderloft are a good mix of travellers form SE Asia, Australia, and Europe. Young. Wearing the Asian backpacker uniform of baggy elephant pants and flip flops.

By the time i checked in to my hostel it was about 3 pm, so i just walked around to get my bearings. Around the corner from my hostel is a busy pedestrian street with cafes, buskers, jewelry makers, palm readers, and people in elaborate costumes posing for photos.

The street led to the square which was positively teeming with people. Sitting on the ground, eating and drinking, walking, and riding neon colored bicycles while wearing fancy hats that matched the bicycles. I thought there must be a festival, but have since found out it was just the weekend. It was great. I walked and had dinner on the square (vegetarian food is available but not in abundance). And i smoked a cigar on a patio.

With few exceptions the people i saw were locals. Women mostly dressed in colorful scarves and modest dress. Men dressed in jeans and t-shirts, smoking.

It was very pleasant and i stayed up too late. My sleep is a bit screwed up and i haven’t had enough of it. 3 hours last night. About the same the night before.

This morning, up early, i put on my other outfit (i have 2). I felt fresh and clean. Had some terrible instant coffee (seriously, the island is called Java, you would think they could do better) and toast with peanut butter and nutella. Heading out, i discovered i had peanut butter on my dress. Sigh. So much for being clean.

I spent the day wandering around the north of the city. Pretty white colonial buildings aside, the streets are shabby in a good way. Busy traffic, lots of shops, street vendors, tea houses, and markets. The canals are murky, smelly things but they add character. There are a surprising number of shops selling Christmas trees and decorations for what otherwise appears to be a Muslim city.

I had a coffee – a great one – from this terrific cafe which had a open lofty seating ares surrounded by trees. It felt like a treehouse. Enjoyed a cigar.

I then walked down to the Glodok neighbourhood, which is the traditional Chinese area where they had a great network of market streets selling produce, household items, herbal medicines, meat and fish.

Dinner of gado gado on a patio. Currently having a cigar and fresh soup sop juice inside at the elegant Cafe Batavia listening to live music (they just played a super funkified version of “My Way”) and smoking a cigar. That’s right…i can smoke inside! Heaven.

Asia India Nepal Trip 2016

A lost afternoon in Delhi

I tried to sleep off my sickness; a plan that was partly successful. I awoke a bit less achy and a bit hungry. Moving slowly, I had breakfast at the hostel. The rooftop was crowded full of young backpackers, traveling in large groups or as couples. I did find one other solo traveler to chat with and we swapped stories over our puri, bread, and bananas.

Today there were just a couple of things I wanted to see, but mostly I was looking forward to the journey. I took the Metro south (i am seriously in love with this metro system – cheap, easy to navigate, women-only cars, and the trains come every minute, literally. Signage told me that obstructing the metro car doors can land you four years in prison, but I can see why with that marvelous efficiency.) I got off near the Lodi Gardens, which i wanted to visit, and promptly turned in the wrong direction and spent the next hour lost, wandering through some quasi-residential neighbourhood, which was quite pleasant – leafy and a bit quiet with a slightly diminished cacophony of horns.

So I walked back to the metro station, this time turning right instead of left, and went to the lovely and leafy Lodhi gardens, which are dotted with mausoleums, ice cream vendors, and couples laying in the grass. I walked around for a while and then napped on a bench under a tree.

I then walked on a busy and uninspired road forever before stumbling upon the Lodhi Hotel, where I ducked in for a cigar and a beverage. The hotel is super fancy and i was sure I would be denied entry, but they welcomed me and set me up in a pretty courtyard with birds and statues, and i smoked a Cohiba Behike and generally chilled out.

Back on the street i walked and was trying to find Hazrat Nizam-ud-din Dargah (a shrine) I never did find it but I sure had a great time looking. I ended up in a labyrinthine marketplace, which was very clearly in the Muslim part of town. The signs had switched to Arabic, the men wore tradition Middle Eastern clothes, and the women were covered head to toe to fingertip in black (a color choice I can get behind), with not even slits for their eyes (a visual impairment i cannot). The market was great. Crowded and noisy. People selling carpets and wall hangings with passages from the Koran, halal butchers, sellers of dates and bananas. I had a great wander, but then I turned one corner and a bunch of men started shouting at me. Not angrily, but with urgency. I had stumbled into some entrance to a holy area, I think, but I couldn’t discern if they wanted me to take off my shoes or leave because it was men only. Either way, I politely backed up and turned around, but before leaving I bought a toothbrush, as I had dropped mine in a pool of stagnant water next to a toilet that morning.

From there I went to Humayun’s Tomb (which is not located on the lonely planet map as indicated) and visited the mid-16th C complex of tombs and gardens. It was beautiful.

I hired a tuk tuk (haggling successfully and theatrically) to take me back to the nearest Metro station and i returned to the hostel where I napped for too long. It is now 11pm and I am sitting on a balcony drinking ginger lemon honey tea and watching the activities in the street. The air is perfect and i feel good.
Tomorrow I leave for Kathmandu.

Asia India Nepal Trip 2016

Hello, Delhi

My trip to Nepal starts in New Delhi. The flights I was looking at at all went through New Delhi, so I thought i should spend a few days there. I hadn’t been to India before. I have wanted to but just hadn’t made it. Too many places within it to visit made it intimidating to try to cram in to 2-3 weeks, but on this trip I can at least see Delhi.

I arrived after over 24 hrs of travel, flying through Shanghai. I landed in New Delhi at 2am, but by the time I made it through immigration, baggage, and money changing it was 3:30. I took a rickety taxi to my hostel. The drive was great. The air was warm and the traffic light so we sped through the streets, with the driver telling me about the Holi festival, helping me with my Hindi, and spotting monkeys. We also smoked in the taxi. An invitation to smoke in a taxi is always welcome.

As we drove into the area where my hostel is in the main bazaar area of Pahar Ganj, the streets narrowed and we dodged early morning rickshaws, people sleeping in the streets, piles of stuff, and cows chilling out eating scraps left over from the market. I took all of this that i was staying in the right area.

My hostel is the Smyle Inn, a modest budget hostel on a narrow side street. I have a room which lacks any charm and while it doesn’t look it, i believe it to be clean. The staff are very nice and helpful and there is a free breakfast. I am content.

I slept for 2 hours, ate and headed out.

The streets that had been quiet a few hours earlier were and are now wonderful madness. A whirlwind of rickshaws, tuk tuks, scooters, bicycles, vendors with carts of food and other items, medium sized brown dogs, and pedestrians. No sidewalks, so i snaked my way through it all, brushing against the people and motorists.

I made my way to the nearest metro station and rode a few stops north into Old Delhi, which is all the chaos of the previous neighbourhood, but intensified. Men called out constantly, wanting me to take their rickshaws, wanting money, trying to sell my things, or just wanting to talk. This will grow tiresome, but today i minded it not at all. That being said, their was one boy who followed me for blocks. He spoke no English but walked too close and chattered to me. I shooed him away repeatedly and with increasing sternness. Finally, when I though he was gone, he grabbed my ass and ran off.

I walked through a market, past a bird hospital (imagining parrots with tiny wing casts and crutches), and went to the Red Fort, one of New Delhi’s main attractions. It was a complex of lovely buildings set in a peaceful park. It was pleasant but not amazing.

From there i walked for ages, convinced i could find my was to Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque. Miraculously, despite the dearth of street signs, i found it. It is a massive mosque, teeming with tourists. Beautiful, but not on par with those of Egypt or Uzbekistan. The tourists detracted from the solemnity i think. I did relish in the mandatory shoe removal, wandering in stocking feet on the worn, warm stones.

I went back out into the streets. I walked, again for ages, to Connaught Place, a very British designed, circular shopping complex, with wide sidewalks, and a nice park in the centre, where i sat under a tree for a while, people watching.

I then walked, stopped for lunch at a vegetarian restaurant where i was overwhelmed with options, and walked down to the India gate where throngs of people strolled around and sat in the park or splashed and bathed in the pools in the park.

At this point it was only afternoon, but i was exhausted. I took the metro back to my neighbourhood through more markets and then for a nap.

A note about the metro. It is great. Cheap, fast, and there are stations all over the city. You have to go through metal detectors and get wanded to board, but the security does not seem very thorough. Each train has a car just for women. I rode the train three times today. The first time i rode in a regular car, which is just like riding in any crowded subway. The second two times i rode in the ladies’ car, which i think i will do from now on. It is far less crowded and it smells infinitely better. Plus, there are no men chatting me up.

I am amazed by the women here, how dressed up they are in beautifully coloured saris, with glittering jewelry and sandals, exquisitely long hair, and beautiful makeup. I felt so scruffy by comparison.

After my nap i went out for a stroll and to a restaurant for some dal and tea and a cigar on a nice second storey balcony, overlooking the street, enjoying a cigar.

Before coming here everyone told me how bad the city smelled, but this has not been my experience today. Sure, sometimes i would pass a spot that reeked of urine or body odor or exhaust, but more often i was treated to the wonderful smells of strong incense, roses, and frying chilies and spices. No complaints here.

Ready for bed now. Tomorrow i head to Agra for the day.

Tag: tuk tuk

Tuk Tuks

Kawran Bazaar

Dhaka University

Back to the Old City

To the River

The Ship Yards

Wrapping up (and a few more photos)

Still Sick

Sufi Night

Winding up in Lahore