The boat to Kaptai left at 7 am, so we were out the door of the hotel at 6.20 to take a taxi; plenty of time, we reckoned. The problem was that, where there were generally 3 or 4 waiting, today there were none. There was, however, another man there, himself waiting for a taxi or bus, so we relied on his, we trusted, well-founded expectation, + waited too. Things weren’t looking too good, however, with the mins ticking away. Eventually, one did come along in our direction, but it was going the wrong way at the junction. Then another: same story. Finally, when we’d just about given up hope, one puttered along, + tho’ at first it went straight past, it was bellowed at by the now respectable crowd who had gathered, + who all knew our plight, + it stopped 20 yds down the road. We piled in with our luggage + off we went.
The boat dock was left at the triangular junction, a part of town we had never visited, +, as it turned out, quite the major part, with many more shops + restaurants. We were dropped off at the terminal in the middle, + marched quickly down to the end where, to our relief, we found the boat. What was more, Gordon + Annabelle were perched on the flat roof. They had stayed at a hotel in this section, + had been as puzzled by our non-appearance as we had been of theirs. They too had been ignorant of the other sections of town as we had. I suspect they had had the better deal, however, since their hotel was cheaper.
The roof looked to be by far the best place to sit, so we too stationed ourselves there. Inside, there were many rows of wooden benches, + I suspect it would have been dark + airless. We cast off just a couple of mins later, so we had only just arrived in time. It was a pleasant trip, the surrounding scenery + mirror-like lake being restful tho’ undramatic. I spent my time reading + listening to the Walkman, notably Pete’s letter-tape, +, of course, occasionally watching the forest slide by. The disadvantage to our posn was the sun, which was fiercely hot – the tops of my arms, newly uncovered, were burnt. There were 3 police checkposts, tho’ we were only checked once.
A curious incident at another place, however, when the police pulled off all the males wearing sarongs, + examined the backs of the legs of each one. We couldn’t work it out, the only theory we were able to come up with being that maybe they were searching for a particular person, only identifiable by some defect or peculiarity. We could think of no general category of person that would reveal itself in such a way. It was a tedious business, + meanwhile the rest of us were roasting. Quite clearly, the Bangladeshis have some sort of security problem in the area, but it is being kept quiet, I have no idea whether it is internal or external. The former, I would guess.
At Kaptai, our first thoughts were for drink – Coca-Coal+ the like – then food. There was an argument over the latter, however, when it came to paying the bill. They presented us with the simple grand total, written on a piece of paper, but it seemed too much, + we wanted it broken down. Annabelle was the most combative about the issue, much more so than even Val, whom I find bad enough – Gordon + I stayed clear. When everything was itemised, however, it came to a good bit less. I suspect it was the waiters who may have been doing some padding, for the cashier seemed very angry with them. Either that, or he was a good actor.
G + A decided to stay in Kaptai for the night, but we decided to take the bus back to Chittagong straight away. Kaptai seemed a one cow town, + really we had mainly come to get the boat-ride in. A crowded bus back, but we had seats, so it wasn’t too bad. Luckily we were able to recognise the part of Chittagong that we wanted, + got off just a hundred yds from our hotel. But even that distance we walked thro’ a transformed city. Now that the holiday was over, the city had come back to life with a vengeance – it was amazingly busy.
We went to the main post office (+ had almost as much trouble buying stamps as we had back in Rangamati), + then to the British Council, where I buried myself happily in last week’s Observer. Val soon became bored, however (+ who can blame her), + came home alone. It wasn’t until after she’d gone that I remembered the country was Muslim, but as it happened she had no trouble.
We ate dinner in the café next door, into which soon came Chas, Dave + their Japanese friend. We chatted pleasantly enough – I find Chas fun company, tho’ Val is unimpressed. They have just returned from Cox’s Bazaar, but don’t have wonderful things to say about it. We’d planned to go there tomorrow, but have now decided to give it a miss, particularly as it involves travelling out there merely to travel back. And, tho’ it’s difficult to realise it, our time is running out, so we should be selective.
As travel days go, this was relatively pleasant, despite the angst at the beginning; it seems to count for normal travel, though we won’t miss it when it is in the past. And the usual sort of argument at the restaurant, with both sides suspicious of being ripped off. But again, part of travel.
