The day passed in a relaxed + peaceful manner, with the Rocket (that’s the name of the service – I don’t know the name of our particular ship) chugging gently thro’ the broad delta – it is at the junction of the Ganges + Brahmaputra rivers. The ship is an old paddle-steamer, + still exudes the feel + atmosphere of the colonial era. Even in 2nd class (I’m not sure that even the most junior of officers or European officials would ever have considered travelling anything but 1st class), it is easy to imagine quiet servants, tiffin, + all the razzamatazz of the Raj. Now, of course, it is occupied by better-off Bangladeshis, only too willing to drag us into conversation. Would I have fitted in to the Raj? I suspect, somewhat to my dismay, that I would have done, only too well. That air of reserve, particularly when talking to foreigners, suits me fine.
When I awoke, I discovered that we were tied up at a small village. I had thoughts of going ashore, but discovered that we had been there for some time, + were about to depart. Annoying. Even more annoying to arrive at the next village a little later, yet dilly-dally around so much with Val that we didn’t get off in time. At the 3rd village, we did finally get off, but we were stopped there for so short a time, that it was no more than a lightning visit, barely time to grab a samosa or 2 before the hooter sounded + we had to rush back to the dock. So much for our hopes of a little sight-seeing along the way. Worse, the incidents had put me into a bad mood, making me snappy with Val. As usual, when I get angry with God, Val gets the consequences. Tho’ I suspect it works just as well in reverse. (God getting angry with me? No, no, no…)
We arrived in Khulna an hour late, at about 7, + climbed into a rickshaw. Chose a hotel near the bus stn (handy for tomorrow morning), the Taj, + an excellent choice it turned out to be. It was dingy, for sure, but it was remarkably cheap, they changed our $5 at a good rate, + best of all the whole crew of people there were amazingly friendly. They obviously didn’t have too many Western visitors, + were curious about us, piling into our room, but as soon as we indicated the need for privacy, they dutifully piled out again.
After drinking many cups of tea, I felt peckish, + in need of a little exercise, so went out for a stroll. I happened upon a barber’s, still in full swing, so thought I’d go in to have my hair cut. A slightly dangerous operation, since they didn’t speak English. If I indicated a little, would that mean the amount taken off or the amount left? But I needn’t have worried. My man’s professionalism, common sense, + artistic flair saw him (+ me) right + I received the best haircut I’ve had in a very, very long time (not counting the ones by Val, of course.) The worst was yet to come, however, for having finished cutting he started on the massage. My head, my back, my arms, my fingers, my ears(!), + every bit excruciatingly painful. Striking my head in such a way as to make a loud “pop”, Chinese burns on my arms, trying to pull all my hair over the top of my head, twisting my ears until they creaked… I could go on + on. If it weren’t for the fact that everyone in the place seemed to regard it as perfectly normal, I’d have thought it was some malicious practical joke. A never to be forgotten (or repeated) experience.
I ought to be more wary around barbers’ as they do tend to add in all sorts of additional services, none of which am I very fond of. But at least a decent haircut.
