On my last morning walk to work in Dhaka a mist started to roll in across the lake, hiding the slum and cocooning me and the bridge over in a shroud of thick white fluff. It was something I had never seen in … Continue reading
My bag is half packed and teetering on a baby pink bathroom scale that has seen better days. I have the tickets, the flight schedule. I’m braced for one degree in flip flops, for the first freeze. I’m wondering why … Continue reading
Posted in Bangladesh, thanks, travel
Tagged beauty, colour, Dhaka, food, goats, humility, laughter, life, photos, pleasure, strangers, travel
Everything is for sale, even afloat. The flies are a good sign. Maybe this batch has avoided the formaldehyde dip. I try not to think about it much.
There are an impossible numbers of fat matt-brown butterflies twisting and twirling through the streets like breeze-blown litter. Tired and dust heavy – they look a little lost. Walking home from work, I swerve step so as not step on … Continue reading
Posted in Bangladesh, travel
Tagged Bangladesh, butterflies, darkness, Dhaka, hunger, impressions, night, photographs, poverty, traffic, travel
Winter is coming to Dhaka with a fall of woollens, more bright hues adding to the riots already out on the street. Men strut their stuff in tissue light Punjabis, sleeveless sweaters, and scarves tied round their heads then under … Continue reading
In this sprawling city, where more than 15 million jostle for space, lives are lived half on water. Ramshackle homes jut from the banks, seeming to float like the hyacinth clumps the grudging buffalo graze in the murky shallows.
There are times when a pinch of struggle salts everything. Each day is rough to touch, the coarse spot your fingers play back to, the worry that catches a nail. Then, all in a moment, you remember to miss the … Continue reading
Posted in life, reflections
Tagged clothes, colours, Dhaka, food, friends, happiness, henna, now, pleasure, reflection, struggle
Being back in Dhaka is strangely like a coming home. The city still smells like rose water, almonds, perfume, death and urine. But the alternating aromas offend my nose a less than before. I’ve grown use to the sharp acid … Continue reading
There are odd days when I plain love my life. Rain has steamed onto the city through the day, leaving rivers of mud running through the streets. Now soft breezes push against the nets, jostle the heavy curtains of hot … Continue reading
Heya bab, Tonight I finally managed to grab mum on Skype and pass on my impressions from the first few days of Dhaka 101. It was good to chat to her but I was left with the sense of something … Continue reading