In The Streets

There is very little tourism in Dhaka other than a handful of museums, a couple of memorials and a lot of mosques and temples. The campus of Dhaka University is very nice.

If none of that does it for you then you need to head to the streets. Even with the poverty level so high that begging is expected, the trek is well worth it.

It is not uncommon to have heart breaking mothers, struggling with their kids in tow, to follow you for blocks to gain any morsel. The more affluent you look the more persistently they pursue. Don’t take their picture because they will expect payment from you since they need help so desperately. And once you succumb and dish out even a taka or two (1 taka = 1.26 cents) the other homeless and desperate come out of nowhere.
The street markets are beautiful with colorful fruits and vegetables, aromatic spices, rice of all types, live fish, freshly slaughtered meat, and live chicken plucked and de-feathered on the spot. (see photos >

The best part is the people. It is a bit disconcerting at first, but you learn to embrace the fact that they will flock around you. Because we are so different from them we stand out.

At first I thought it was just the men gawking at the six beautiful women I am traveling with, but local women were in the crowd just as eager to get a glimpse. Some had phones taking pictures while others playfully jumped in front of the camera.

I then noticed that they were watching me too. It became apparent they were reveling in the fact that we were interested in what they were offering. They loved the fact that we cared about them through our wanting their goods. They loved the fact we were willing to come down to their neighborhood.

At one point I turned to find my party was gone. I figured they had wandered further down the street. I did not see them anywhere. I suddenly felt alone and a bit apprehensive. Almost instantly I saw nearly a half dozen locals waving to me that my party had crossed the street. They did not want me to lose my friends. I then felt completely safe.

Suddenly I was being escorted by two young boys; probably younger teenagers. They cheered and laughed as I started to step into traffic. One of them actually grabbed my arm at one point to save me from a high speed rickshaw.

It seemed the entire crowd was cheering as I finally made it across. My two young escorts cheered the loudest and received my high five of thanks. Others in the crowd patted me on the back with congratulations as I joined up with my traveling companions.

For me, this experience on the streets assured me that the Bangali people cared for me. They loved seeing me succeed. In turn, I now find myself cheering for them hoping they succeed through all their political challenges and economic struggles.

Thank you my friends in the streets of Dhaka. Thanks for welcoming me into your world.

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