New Old Dhaka

On a very spontaneous decision, my friend Ute and I decided to go to Old Dhaka, taking off from Gulshan-2 circle at about 3 pm.
I did not really know where to get off, so I just told the driver to let us out at Shodorghat, the famous harbour in Old Dhaka, where all the launches leave to almost everywhere in Bangladesh. The various rivers with their arms run through the whole country; from north and west to the coastal area in the south.

The CNG ride cost us 350 Taka due to the heavy traffic. We arrived at around 4:30 pm and immediately started to explore a "different" part of Dhaka.
Roaming around Shodorghat, there was lots to see. With a 4 Taka pass you can access the platform and see all the people coming and going, with their lugguage and lunchboxes, on a journey to or from Dhaka - maybe even overnight, as we were, when we went to Kuakata.

On the way from Shodorghat to Shankharia Bazaar/Hindu Street was Ahsan Manzil, also known as "the Pink Palace". As it was after five already, it was closed. But we were able to get some snaps and headed on to Hindu Street.
This part of Old Dhaka was "new" to me, as I have missed out on it around two and a half years ago. Street vendors roam the tiny streets and sell everything from spiritual books to paintings, jewellery and wedding gounds to food and the famous "Old Dhaka kites" for 6 Taka a piece.

On our tour Ute and I stopped and discussed in German what to do next. All of a sudden a man stood beside us, just listening. I asked if I could help him, but he apparently just wanted two people to talk in a foreign language. When I told him that it was German, he said "Oh German! I have heard people talk in German lots of time...".

We headed on. It became dark quickly and my camera wasn't performing as I wanted to. So there are no impressions of our visits to Tara Masjid/Star Mosque, Armenian Churcch and Hussaini Dalan.

But more impressions from Old Dhaka can be found on my blog post from August 2011.

I reminisce

There is a smell of fried egg in the air. It is morning and the fog has disappeared. I pass a street food vendor on the way to the corner, where my rickshaw leaves. He is making breakfast - paratha with egg, daal and bhaji. And cha - one cannot forget the traditional milk tea in Bangladesh.

My rickshaw ride from Banani to Gulshan-2 is 30 Taka. I think it has rained last night as the street is partially wet. Dhaka is warm and dusty. The cold is gone. It is very sunny in the morning but I leave my sunglasses off.
It is supposed to be 28 degree Celsius today - in February. The rays of light shimmer through the trees and lots of little particles flow in the air. The fog has disappeared, Dhaka is dusty.

Here and there people are sweeping the streets. Someone is burning leaves, as the smoke surrounds me as I pass through. The green of the trees is obvious, all year long.

Today I decide not to put any headphones on - no Drake, Bastille, Imagine Dragons or Aloe Blacc. Dhaka is noisy. I don't pay any attention and my rickshaw driver goes straight although he is supposed to take a right, as I told him to drop me off in front of the Police Barrack at Gulshan-2. I give him 30 Taka and get off.

I cross the street and go up the elevator: Floor 11 with a view over the whole circle. Just a few weeks ago people used to march, protest, threw crude bombs and got into fights with the police. Now it seems like nothing has happened.

I arrive at work, switch on my computer but cannot focus; as I am thinking of my trip to Kuakata... I reminisce, I reminisce.