We slept so well that we had to be shaken awake when we reached Chittagong, + then had to gather our things + scramble off the train in a panic. We didn’t think the train was going anywhere, but couldn’t be absolutely sure. So we found ourselves in Chittagong – a romantic name, more than the place seemed to deserve. We made first for a small café for tea + chapattis. By the time we’d finished that we felt in a condition to face the world. Took a rickshaw to the hotel we had listed, which turned out to fit our requirements, being reasonably clean + reasonably cheap. Soon discovered that Gordon + Annabelle were also established in the same place, as were Dave + Suzanne, a Kiwi/Australian/Canadian/Irish couple (they both have complicated origins, too complicated to go into now) from the same Burma travelling group, of course. We wonder how many others of the club we will run into. Not many, I suspect – already, some have returned to Bangkok or travelled straight on to Nepal.
We joined G + A for breakfast, then took off on our own to explore the town. We walked aimlessly, not having any particular landmark to which we could direct our steps. But being the holiday, the streets were almost deserted, which made things easier, but correspondingly deprived the scene of vital life + colour. So it was hardly exciting. But we saw a few sights, climbed a hill to get an overall view, drank Coke, even discovered the office + took some photographs of the British Council (closed because of the holiday.) I visited a mosque, where I was made welcome. Most notably, tho’ we did not witness any of the actual slaughter of beasts to mark the feast, we did witness the accumulation of detritus throughout the day: blood in the gutters, piles of dung cleaned from the stomach, the washing of the intestines under public taps, carts laden with meat, finally, towards the end of the day, the cleaned hides, dozens upon dozens of them, laid out in the street to dry. Heaven knows what Bangladesh’s Hindu population thought of the scene.
After our exertions of the morning, we rested for the remainder of the day, ate a simple dinner, + passed the evening writing letters in the comfortable hotel dining room. An uninspiring day.
As we have discovered in various countries, holidays are rarely of great interest for the traveller, as celebrations tend to be private; all that one discovers is that cafes etc are shut!
