Bangladesh: Dhaka to Burimari Border.

I was really fortunate in Bangladesh to be joined by Russ, a good friend from Manchester. Russ was originally from Bangladesh, but had lived the previous 15 years in the UK and had now returned to Bangladesh to live again. He offered to cycle with me from Dhaka to the Indian border, an offer that I was only to glad to take up. 

out of dhaka

I think cycling out of Dhaka might be one of the most interesting cycling experiences I have ever had. The traffic was absolutely insane; a mess of pedestrians, cyclists, rickshaws, cars, motorised rickshaws, buses and trucks. All jostling for space, with not a single thought about road safety or what was in front or behind. The road was in pretty bad shape and the only thing that kept me sane was singing R Kellys 'Ignition' rather loudly and 'toot, tooting' at cars and rickshaws. I kept closely behind Russ as we followed the main road out of the city towards Bhaluka. 

I will admit that the first day of cycling wasn't particularly nice; cycling out of any city with over 14 million people was never going to be particularly enjoyable. We were grateful to stop at the industrial town of Bhaluka for the night. Luckily Russ had some contacts and that night we slept in a government guesthouse; a hotel usually reserved for government workers when they are travelling between districts. I was incredibly happy to be able to shower my feet, I had worn sandals to cycle that day and boy could you tell!

out of the city surrounds and into the villages. 

The following day from Bhaluka to Jamalpur (96km) was a lot nicer.  We left behind the main roads  and travelled on a mix of bitumen and dirt, through villages I will never know the names of. Despite being only 100km out of the capital we came across towns where people had never seen a white person before. I will admit that this surprised me, as did the fact that we drew big crowds wherever we stopped. I felt a bit sorry for Russ, not speaking Bengali meant I was unable to communicate, so whenever we stopped Russ was faced with a barrage of the same questions over and over again. He seemed relatively happy to answer, but I am sure that at times he just wanted a bit of personal space. 

One exciting moment was when I saw my first Asian Elephant, it was being walked down the road by its owner/keeper (who seemed to be collecting money in return for interacting with the elephant). We caught up and the keeper and elephant stopped, I got some money out my purse and the elephant took it out my hand with its trunk! 

That night in Jamalpur we slept in another government guesthouse, this time the generator went off, which also turned off the fan. Bearing in mind it was absolutely roasting in the room, this was something of a issue. Load shedding, where the electricity is turned off to save power, is normal in Bangladesh, forcing whole towns into darkness. According to locals they were sporadic, meaning they couldn't plan when they would and wouldn't have electricity; no doubt making life difficult for the residents. 

jamalpur to rowmari

From Jamalpur we headed deeper north, going through villages seldom frequented by foreigners.  If I hadn't been with Russ I probably wouldn't have taken this route, as I couldn’t find any information on the internet about local boats crossing from Rowmari to Chilmari. Having Russ with me meant that by chatting to people we were able to work out the times and place we could get a local boat across the Brahmaputra River.

It was a flat 95km to the town of Rowmari where we were to sleep that night. It should have been an easy ride but it was incredibly hot and sticky. We had thought that by riding at the beginning of October the weather would be more amenable to cycling, but it was still incredibly hot going. Russ was pretty exhausted by the end of the day, and upon arriving in Rowmari we were immediately met by Russ' friend, an active member of the communist party, and a man who worked for social good in the area. 

Just a month earlier there had been extreme flooding in this part of Bangladesh (August/September 2017) and I had originally been concerned that we may run into problems with areas being flooded. Fortunately the flooding had receded but the impacts of the event still remained. A lot of people in this part of Bangladesh had lost their crops and their homes had been badly damaged. Over dinner our host told us about what he and his partners were doing to help people who had been affected. It was an illuminating conversation but without a common language Russ ended up having to translate a lot. 

crossing the brahmaputra river 

The next morning we were up early and a local maths/science teacher showed us the way to the boat crossing in Rowmari. That day we planned to cross the Brahmaputra and arrive in Chilmari, and then cycle on smaller roads to Lalmonirhat. We got to the boat landing early and were quickly surrounded by tens of inquisitive faces. To the delight of the locals we decided to take a swim in the river whilst we were waiting for the boat, in full clothing of course.

Our boat, compared to some of the other boats, looked pretty safe and soon locals were piled under the decking, bags arranged and our bikes and three scooters hoisted on. The boat trip was awesome, definitely a highlight, the river stretched as far as the eye could see and tall reeds swayed in the breeze. 

I was surprised by how well organised the trip was, the boat left on time and only took a couple of hours to make the crossing. We swiftly embarked at Chilmari and set off cycling again. Having been stared at most of the morning and afternoon we brought some food from a store and ate it at the side of the of the road, overlooking the paddy fields in the shade. In Bangladesh you are never truly alone though and sooner or later we had a group of curious locals watching us eat our bananas. Traffic jams caused by buffalo were now common, and we enjoyed a peaceful 60km ride passing through the towns of Ulipur and Rajahat on the way. 

Arriving in Lalmonirhat fairly late we looked for somewhere to stay, ideally we wanted to stay at another government guesthouse (cheap and good quality rooms) but without contacts in the area this proved difficult. Eventually we got chatting to a government official, who after talking to Russ (Russ is pretty amazing at convincing people!) pulled some strings for us and we stayed that night in a slightly more expensive government hotel. The rooms were nice and we enjoyed a tasty dinner to celebrate our last night together. 

crossing the burimari border

We wanted to try and reach the border that day fairly early, so that I would be able cycle into India in the late afternoon. We left around 6:30am and the cycling was really good, not to hot, following shaded roads. We stopped at a small shop and Russ over-heard the locals speaking in Bengali about us (they thought that Russ was Indian and couldn't understand them) "Do you think thats her body guard?" "Where is she from? Is she Rohinga?" Russ surprised them by answering their whispered questions in fluent Bengali, "no I am not her body guard, I am a friend and she is English, definitely not Rohinga!" 

It was odd the different places that people thought I was from. Along the way I had been mistaken for Korean, Japanese, Singaporean and even Rohinga. It was strange to think how cut off these people were from the rest of the world; that they didn't put white skin and European/North American/Australian together. 

We arrived at the border around 12 o'clock. Something that had been stressing me out was that I had to pay a travel tax of 500 taka to a bank to cross by land. Luckily we managed to find a bank, hidden in the upstairs of a rather decrepit building. We were lucky, it was the weekend and they were just about to close. Quickly we paid the money and were handed the magic slip of paper to cross the border.  

Here Russ was to leave me and make his way back to Dhaka by bus, a journey I was not at all envious of. We sorted out a bus for him and went through the various different buildings of border security. There was a lot of paper stamping and looking in a puzzled manner at my passport, but an hour later we were at the Indian border. An emotional farewell hug followed. Russ had been amazing company for the ride, and hadn't complained even when his bottom was very sore! Soon I was pushing my bike, alone, into India. A shack that was the 'border post' housed an ageing computer and after my details were taken, my visa checked and a couple of questions answered I was free to enter!