Asia | The Furious Panda

April 8, 2017September 3, 2018 by Red

A Winter Hike in Kazbegi

I made the trip up north following the Georgian Military Highway, from Tblisi to Stepantsminda. Stepandsminda, or more commonly known by its old name Kazbegi, is a small town with few visitors in winter. The highlight of the area is the Gergeti Trinity Church, a small but formidable church high up the mountains, overlooking the town.

This was in February 2013, at an elevation of around 2000 metres. And the area looks like this.

Kazbegi town from above

From the capital of Georgia, Tblisi, is it a 3 hour ride by marshrutka from the Didube bus station. I wasn’t really sure what to expect when I decided to make the trip out to Stepantsminda. When I arrived, the whole valley landscape was covered in white.

A marshrutka very similar to this one brought me to Stepantsminda. Along the way, I was remarking to myself how many Georgian men, the driver in this case, have gruff sounding voices. The driver could probably do a very impressive rendition of Louis Armstrong’s What A Wonderful World.

The sign points to Gergeti, written in English and in the Georgian script, Mkhedruli. In summer, I read that many tourists visit as the area is good for hikes, and even horse-riding, as evident on this sign. But right now, in the thick of winter, I could very well have been the only tourist in town on that day.

It is a small town really. This is the main street, and not many people are out walking, even though it was a relatively nice and sunny afternoon.

Stepantsminda is located on the eastern bank of the Tergi River. The main road crosses the river once in the middle of town and continues north towards the Russian border, about 15 km away. On the other side of the river, is an even smaller settlement, Gergeti Village, which is more like an extension of Stepantsminda. This was where I stayed. Beyond Gergeti Village, is the trail that would lead to the church.

This was my basic room in the house, but one I was thankful for. Warmth. I was the only one there, so the owner was nice enough to set the heating going, just for one person. And this involved burning wood and putting it into the stove. With a grateful “gmadlobt” I proceeded to unpack and warm myself up.

One interesting thing was that I was told to leave the tap running, even when I left the house. This was presumably to keep the water pipes from freezing. It is altogether different from back home, where we are constantly reminded not to waste water.

There was still light, so I decided to have a gander around town. First up is the statue of Alexander Kazbegi. He was a local Georgian writer, whose work was to be a major influence on Stalin later on. Before Stepantsminda, the town was called Kazbegi, named after his grandfather, who had helped the Russians keep control of the area after a revolt. But now, the town is called Stepantsminda, since 2006, after Saint Stephan a Georgian orthodox monk.

This was the front facade of the unfortunately closed Kazbegi Museum, photo taken through the grills. I thought it would be open based on the opening times. Maybe it was a “closed for winter” thing, or maybe it was just during a really bad snowed in period, and they declared the museum closed. Whatever it was, I didn’t get to visit the museum.

I ventured even further into the residential areas of town, and got rewarded with a group of cows. I am not entirely sure of why the pipes are running so high above ground. Possibly to keep them from freezing.

This handsome cow had 4 little icicles dangling off its mouth. It was that cold!

There was a foot bridge spanning the river. This one did not look too safe, and I was not sure if it was even still in use.

I took a photo of this useful map of Stepantsminda, for anyone who might be interested.

And here is the view from Stepantsminda, looking up toward the Gergeti Trinity Church. The church and its bell tower are two separate structures. In the foreground, Tergi Bridge crosses the river, and a road branches off after the bridge to the west going through Gergeti Village. The highest peak is the 5000m Mount Kazbeg.

Icicles greeted me the next morning on the clothesline outside my room. I packed some food and water, preparing for the hike to the church. It was a 2 to 3 hour hike, I read. And driving up was possible too. Some time ago, the Soviets built a cable car station at the top that linked the church to the town. Apparently the locals were not too happy about making their holy church a place for mass tourism, and they proceeded to tear down the cable car. Hence, driving or hiking are the only two ways up.

The next morning, I took breakfast and made my way uphill along the main track to the Gergeti church. Ten minutes into the walk, I turned around and had this view, scanning the entire town of Stepantsminda down below. So far so good.

Soon after, the main track ended off, and with the aid of the Maps Me app, I began following the trailhead. Above is a map of the area, taken from OpenStreetMap. It’s all in Mkhedruli, so let me try to orientate you to the map. The River Tergi runs through the centre. And the main populated area on the right of the river is Stepantsminda. The other path of grey is the village of Gergeti, and the road continues west and uphill towards the Gergeti Trinity Church which is on the leftmost part of the map. The dotted black line is the former Soviet cable car line which started Stepantsminda and ended at the church. My trail followed mostly the road (I think), but I might have gone off the trail quite a bit, since there was nothing to distinguish the trail from the non-trail areas. it was all white!

I did not meet anyone else throughout the entire hike. And the visible road soon gave way to the all white landscape, which left me quite unsure of where I was going.

This was taken halfway up the trail, before the zig-zagging portion. I could see both Stepantsminda in the background and Gergeti Village to the left in the foreground.

The road soon widened and became more visible, a respite from trying to guess where the trail was. This was the zig-zagging portion of the road, built in this way for vehicles to climb up the slope. Since I was on foot, I simply bypassed the road and bashed straight up.

Carrying on, I made a beeline for the church, instead of following the vehicular track which looped west and around back to the church. This area was tough, since I was thigh deep in the snow. At one point, I just needed a break, and took this selfie in the process.

From then on, there were some tracks, so some other hikers must have made their way here recently.

I cut through the wooded area….

…before the “trail” opened up and the treeline began to clear. I was reaching the summit.

Here’s a photo I like. I placed my backpack for perspective, and took a photo of the surroundings. Another break, so I was fiddling around with the items in my bag, and to my delight, found the last remaining bit of chocolate I had bought and eaten a couple of days ago. You cannot imagine the thrill you can get upon finding that you still have that last piece of chocolate! Energized, I carried on in good spirits.

I was rewarded with this view, and the last stretch to the church.

Picking up the pace, I hurried towards the church.

The last bit, looking up before arriving.

And finally, reaching the Gergeti Trinity Church. I was the only one there on the day. It was worth it!

The standalone belltower. It was locked, as was the church. I am sure that in the summer, there are people manning the area.

A helpful sign. If you are headed there, do note that you need to be covered up when accessing the church.

The main entrance, inaccessible to me. No photographs allowed inside.

Here is a donation box, in case anyone is curious how Donation For Church is written in the Georgian languange.

I took a peek through grills into a small chamber on the other side of the main entrance and saw some benches. A waiting area perhaps.

A representation of the Virgin and Child. As is in most of Eastern Orthodoxy, the Georgian Orthodox Church is big on iconography, and paintings and pictures like these are common.

Just below the main church, there is another small building. This is a photo of the roof of that building, complete with solar panel. This would be where the monks rest. Right now though, there isn’t anyone else here.

There is an elaborate water fountain about 50 meters away from the church.

From this photo, the water fountain is straight ahead. But look to the left and you see some unfinished construction. I suspect it was part of the cable car station that was dismantled. A little further back there are some installations and an unused shack which I was pretty sure was part of the cable car station.

A close up of the “construction”

Here’s a panoramic view of the surroundings from the church. After that, I made my way down. Coming down was quick, and adrenaline was high. Partly because I was half rolling down the slope and not getting injured doing so as the ground was thick with snow! I reached the base in half and hour before packing up and taking the marshrutka back to Tblisi.

Here’s me ending off with some advice. Definitely make the trip to Stepantsminda (Kazbegi) if you are in Georgia. If you do have to go in winter, make sure you are relatively fit, as the hike can be tiring. Also bring some waterproof pants and hiking shoes, don’t be like me!

November 8, 2014November 12, 2017 by Red

Arslanbob, Kyrgyzstan

“Welcome, welcome! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, please have a seat.” said the man before me as he removed his cap and coat. Hayat was a middle-aged man with a designer stubble that would make George Clooney proud. He had cheery wrinkled eyes and gold teeth that winked out to me when he smiled.

“How long have you been in Kyrgyzstan?” he asked.

“Almost two weeks now,” was my reply. “But I spent most of my time in the city and up north horse-trekking near the lakes.”

“Then you are going to love Arslanbob. Here we have walnut forests, waterfalls and long, lovely hikes through the countryside. Come now, let’s take a look at where you will be staying.”

Community Based Tourism

Hayat is the local coordinator of the Community Based Tourism program, CBT for short. What is CBT? It is an excellent network of sustainable tourism initiatives set up in Kyrgyzstan. Instead of staying in hotels, tourists are put up in the homes of local people. In each town or village, a local CBT office exists where the coordinator would liaise with arriving tourists and accommodate them in homes. The whole process is professionally done. Prices for lodging and food are fixed no matter which house you stay. Additionally, local activities like trekking and horse-riding led by experienced guides can be organised for reasonable prices. As a result, everyone ends up with a positive experience: The local people benefit from the additional income source, and tourists get an authentic introduction to Kyrgyz life.

Hayat motioned me to the opposite side of his sparse office, where pictures of various locals’ homes have been put up on the wall. Each one showed the interior of a local villager’s house. Some were labeled 1 star, others 2 stars. The distance of the home from the office was indicated. I was to pick from one of these 18 houses and stay there for the next couple of nights. But which?

He noticed my hesitation and came to the rescue: “Houses number 3 and 8 are near the trailhead to the waterfalls, the owner of house no.10 speaks German. The two star homes are slightly more expensive, but they have banyas.” Banyas? I looked at him blankly.

“Russian saunas”, he helpfully added. I shrugged.

“Or how about house 14? The wife is a very good cook.” Good food? Yes please. I may be ten months and five thousand kilometers away from home, but the Singaporean in me still gets excited at the mention of good food.

And so I ended up in the Nazigul family home for the next couple of nights. My room was simple but clean, luxurious by Kyrgyz standards. The family spoke little English, but were determined to ensure I had a good stay. I was introduced to Nazigul’s adorable young son, and she prepared a light welcome lunch for me, before I set off to explore the area.

Arslanbob, the largest walnut forest on earth

Arslanbob is a small town nestled at the foot of the Ferghana Mountains, in southern Kyrgyzstan. The word ‘Arslan’ translates to lion and indeed a statue of a lion sits in the town center. Arslanbob’s population of 1500 are mostly ethnic Uzbeks. Its main claim to fame is that at its doorstep is the largest single walnut forest in the world, at around 600 square kilometers, which is huge! Compare that to the size of Singapore, around 700 square kilometres. Alexander the Great was said to have travelled to this very region and brought the walnuts back to Europe. Every September, locals would come out to gather walnuts, a social and carnival atmosphere set on the 1600 metre high slopes of the valley.

I wandered around Arslanbob town and followed the trail leading into the nearest walnut grove, carrying with me a rough hand-drawn map and instructions from Hayat telling me how to get there. Looking out for signs indicating the way, the only one I saw was a crude drawing of a deer with the words “водапад” scrawled in Russian above it. I later found out it translates to “Waterfall”. Kyrgyzstan was part of the former Soviet Republic and many people speak Russian as the second language. Even the Kirgiz language is written using the cyrillic alphabet.

I need not worry about getting lost though. Walking past houses on the outskirts of town, the occupants helpfully pointed out the way. And it was clear when I reached the walnut grove. The trees spread out over a huge expanse, reaching up to 30 meters into the sky and extending their branches to create a shady forest canopy, creating a fairy-tale like atmosphere. They grow for up to 1000 years, and provide ample walnuts and wood for Kyrgyzstan.

Beyond the walnut grove the trail led to the waterfall that the sign mentioned. There are actually two waterfalls around Arslanbob, locally known as Small Waterfall and Big Waterfall. They are said to have magical healing powers and give the visitor blessings. I visited both the 23 meter high Small Waterfall and the much larger 80 meter Big Waterfall. Truth be told, the waterfalls while spectacular were not the highlights of hiking in Arslanbob. It was the rolling hills with grazing horses, the up-close encounter with a calf feeding as its mother looks on, the meeting with donkey-riding villagers on their way home who insisted on having their pictures taken with you. All simple moments that make the hike enjoyable. And I did get lost on the hikes on the second day, several times in fact. But the scenery was so beautiful that each time I was hardly bothered. I simply retraced my steps after admiring the scenery.

The way to experience Arslanbob is to sit back, enjoy the fresh air and sunny weather amid snow-capped mountains, and just soak in the surroundings. Indeed, what Hayat said when I first met him had come true. I was in love with Arslanbob.

GETTING THERE

Singapore Airlines, Emirates,China Southern and Turkish Airlines offer flights (with one stopover) from Singapore to Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan.

Arslanbob is easily accessible by bus or taxi from the nearby cities of Osh and Jalalabad. If taking a bus, you will need to change buses at Bazar Korgon.

TRAVELLER’S TIPS

■ Kyrgyzstan is visa free for most nationalities, including Singaporeans. Some parts of the country are more conservative than others. In Arslanbob, the village is mainly a traditional Uzbek community, so dressing conservatively is a good idea.

■ There are 17 CBT offices throughout Kyrgyzstan. The one in the Bishkek is particularly helpful to get you started with your travels in Kyrgyzstan. They will helpfully provide advice and brochures of places of interest. CBT’s website is http://www.cbtkyrgyzstan.kg

■ The hikes around Arslanbob are easy and can be done on your own. The Big Waterfall hike is a four hour return trip from town. If you have more time, you can organise 4 day guided treks with CBT to the Holy Lake, a beautiful alpine lake that lies over mountain passes.

■ Go to Arslanbob during walnut season in September to mingle to with local people as they collect the harvest. You will find your pockets full of walnuts offered by locals. Or you can try going during the winter months when the local CBT offers skiing on the slopes as an activity.

February 6, 2012September 4, 2018 by Red

The 38th Parallel: A view from South Korea

21 Jun-11

The Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) is the line on the 38^th parallel bisecting the North and South Korea. The line came about after the Korean War, when an armistice was signed to cease hostilities, in the process creating a 4km wide exclusion zone.

I visited the southern side of the DMZ, on a day tour. Imjingak is the visitor’s centre for tourists eager to experience a bit of the border.

This is the Memorial Altar. Every Chu’sok Day, north koreans in the south will visit the altar and pray for the reunification. The 7 granite screens represent the 5 northern provinces and 2 more in North Korea.

In Imjingak, there is also the remains of a locomotive train abandoned in the DMZ during the Korean war. Bulletholes and bent wheels can be seen on the train.

A view of the Bridge of Freedom which crosses the Imjin River and leads into Panmunjom. Special permission is required to head into Panmumjom. Wire fences line the grounds, with

Flags are put up by visitors wishing for unification, and a prayer for souls of ancestors to the North.

These curious little stone guards stand on either side of the bridge. A couple more stand outside the 3rd Aggression Tunnels.

Found on the South Korean side so far are entrances to 4 tunnels. These tunnel leads from North to South Korea. I went to the 3rd Infiltration Tunnel. No photos allowed inside, but here is one of the tunnel plan. When found, the North said that these were coal mining tunnels, but no evidence of coal had been found. Instead the walls had been painted black and made to resemble coal.

Next up, we took the bus to Dorasan observatory. From here, you can look through binoculars to North Korea in the distance. No photos allowed beyond the yellow line. Try and the guards will tick you off, and were heard to even delete the offending shots.

The Dorasan station is the last station before you go into North Korea. The line currently stops at Dorasan, and perhaps in the future, will continue on to Kaesong, and then Pyongyang. Should the line open, the railway will stretch from South Korea all the way to Europe.

And out on the track. The sign says “Not the last station of the South, but the first station towards the North.”

A souvenir to bring home, stamped tickets.

For a even close-up view of North Korea, there are tours right up to Panmunjeom, right up on the demarcation line between North and South Korea. This is the JSA (joint security area) where you can see North Korean soldiers striking tough poses across the line.

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December 3, 2011September 3, 2018 by Red

Hanguk D-4: Of Ancient Silla Kings

17 May,2011, Gyeongju, Korea

From Jeju to Gyeongju in a Day

So far, it’s been a flash travelling blitz across Korea. From Seoul to Jeju in 3 days, and today Day 4 I am headed for Busan and then to Gyeongju. Here’s the plan: Take a bus from Seogwipo up to Jeju City. Look for the next available flight out to Busan. Take a bus out from Busan Airport to Gyeongju. When in Gyeongju, hunt for a place to stay. Spontaneous travel.

A couple taking a stroll into through the burial mounds.

The first part was easy enough. I found the tourist bus pick-up point which led straight to Jeju City airport. The fantastic thing about travelling in Korea is that the transport network is fantastic. Every place is connected and buses leave frequently. At the airport, I found a Jeju Air flight at 1pm headed for Busan. Booked the ticket. Don’t try getting a ticket off the counter during peak season though.

Jeju Air – cheap and convenient

The flight was short, and on reaching Busan, I thought to myself. ‘How convenient was it that there was a bus terminal just outside the airport with destinations to all the nearby cities.’ Took lunch and my 4pm bus ticket. The bus left for Gyeongju and took an hour to reach the city. Objective for today met. In summary, it is perfectly possible to hit Gyeongju from Jeju in a day, with plenty of time to spare. (considering that I wasn’t rushing from point to point – I set off late in the morning and even missed the earlier Busan to Gyeongju bus because I was ogling this hot Korean babe at the airport.)

Silla

Once upon a time (57 BCE-935 CE actually), the Korea that we know today existed as 3 separate kingdoms. The Silla kingdom, and its two rivals the Goguryeo and Baekje kingdoms. Then one day the a particularly belligerent Silla king made a decision to annex the other two, and in the process, unified the three under the Silla flag. They ruled for almost 900 years from their capital in Gyeongju, until they were conquered by the Goryeo Dynasty. In a nutshell, that was the history of Silla.

Hanjin Hostel. A homely place to spend the night. You can even buy homemade calligraphy poems here.

What was more exciting was that I’m now in Gyeongju, the seat of the Silla kings for hundreds of years. I got a room at the Hanjin Hostel, barely a hundred meters off the bus station. Chucked my bag and off I headed towards the city’s attractions, clearly printed out on the handwritten map given out free by the Hanjin Hostel guy. Gyeongju has been named the museum without walls, and I was starting to understand why.

I peeked into a roadside taekwondo dojo.

Tumuli

It was evening when I reached the Tumuli Park. These mounds ahead of me are barrows, burial tombs of ancient Silla kings. In the middle of downtown Gyeongju are the Noeseo-Ri tombs and the huge tree-covered Bonghwangdae tomb. There were locals picnicking here, schoolchildren walking through, and boy playing baseball even. How odd, that these thousand year old tombs are so much a part of the locals everyday life. Further down I passed through the Tumuli Park, with yet more tumuli. There was even one, Cheonmachong (Heavenly Horse Tomb) which had been excavated and one could enter via a short tunnel into the burial chamber. Somehow, I was the only foreign traveller around the park, which was mostly empty anyway.

Neoseo-Ri Tombs

An evening game of catch.

In meditation under a tumulus

The excavated tomb entrance of the Cheonmachong.

A tumulus, covered by bamboo

The sun setting over a Silla royal tomb

Anapji

Next, I strolled to the Cheomseongdae Observatory, which, built around 600 CE, is probably one of the oldest observatories around. Past more of those peculiar low rise buildings and shops. I realised I had already walked halfway across town, and dusk was approaching. Anapji Pond is just ahead, across the main road, so I decided to do that as well, and worry about finding my way back later.

The two cute mascots of Gyeongju

Cheomseongdae

Flower garden en route to Anapji

Serendipitously, Anapji was a sight to behold at night. It waslighted, and all the missing tourists I could not find in town earlier starting dropping off at entrance carpark by the busloads. Anapji Pond is an artificial pond built by one of the Silla kings, King Munmu (his tumulus is on a rock in the sea!) in Gyeongju National Park. It is very much a tourist attraction, having been spruced up nicely.

So that’s where everyone is!

Looking over the Anapji pond

Exhibits from the Silla empire are displayed here

That was enough activity for one day, I thought to myself. I flagged a bus back to town, and grabbed dinner, some instant noodles at 7-Eleven and that was Gyeongju in a (half)day.

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November 27, 2011September 3, 2018 by Red

Hanguk D-3: Jeju-Do and Don’ts

16 May,2011, Seogwipo, Korea

Today I’m in Seogwipo, the main town in the southern half of Jeju Island. Did a walk along the main streets to the harbour area. Checked out some restaurants. Most here had signs proclaiming ‘authentic seafood caught by haenyos’, those famous diving grandmas of Jeju. I myself was looking to dive as well. I searched for the building housing one of the English speaking dive outfits here, BigBlue33. I met Ralf, the owner at BigBlue33 but they were not going out that day. It is always a hit and miss affair when you do a walk-in, and alone at that. No worries, we had a chat, he was nice and directed me towards a couple of Korean run dive shops. But it seemed like there were no other leisure divers going out to sea that day. I would recommend trying to dive though, read that it was pretty decent – Diving? Do!

In late morning, I decided to be a tourist. The Jungmun Tourist Complex, just a twenty minute bus ride west of Seogwipo, is for the tourist. Many five star hotels (check out some of the hotels in Jeju), attractions, restaurants and an extraordinary number of museums. There’s the famous Loveland, Teddy Bear Museum, a Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! and several other really random attractions that makes you go “WTF has this got to do with anything?“ I decided to while away my time at the Jeju Museum of African Art. The building itself is a replica of the Grand Mosque of Djenne in Mali, West Africa. It’s a realistic representation too, check out those ‘torons’ sticking out of the walls. The building houses images, masked, and carvings from Africa, and there was also an animal section. It was OK, actually I just wanted a glimpse of the building. The real thing in Mali is on my bucket list! – Museums? Generally Don’t!

The it was the Cheonjeyeon area. Cheonjeyeon Falls is one of three waterfalls of Jeju. From Jongmun, you could see the forested valley below, and the three tiered waterfalls. Apparently, Cheonjeyeon was the Pond of the Emperor of Heaven, and seven nymphs regularly bathe in the waters. There is a huge arched bridge, Seonimgyo Bridge, which crosses over the valley. This bridge has the same seven nymphs carved on the side. I sensed a theme of ‘in harmony with nature’ throughout. – Waterfalls? Do!

Back in Seogwipo, I walked the town center for a bit before settling for dinner. The South Korean’s preoccupation with healthy living can be seen here. Besides all the Olle hiking trails, natural parks, the food here had calorie count on their labels. Check out these ice-cream labels. – Healthy Living? Do!

Next up, From Jeju to Gyeongju.

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May 5, 2011September 3, 2018 by Red

Hong Kong: Living Large In Small Spaces

Date: 14 Mar 2011

Arriving into Kowloon at in the evening, we took the train to catch the daily impressive symphony of lights in Hong Kong harbour. Apparently, foreigners and mainland Chinese tourists view this spectacle at least once during their stay here. After the show, (sadly the commentary that day was in the Cantonese dialect), we proceeded next to find our quarters for the night. On another day, and travelling with another person, KW would probably be staying in a fancy posh HK hotel. Unfortunately for him, he’s with me, and add to that the exorbitant hotel room prices here in HK, we will slum it out in Kowloon.

Living Large In Small Spaces

Back in Kowloon, we walked along Nathan Road, wherein lies our destination. Chungking Manor, the setting for Wong Kar Wai’s 1994 masterpiece, Chungking Express. Chungking Manor is actually an old apartment building located in the Tsim Tsa Shui area of Kowloon district. It lies smack along the busy Nathan Road, overlooking a sea of traffic. Within Chungking Manor lies dozens of little establishments offering cheap lodging. And further down the road, a similar building offers the same. This one, Mirador Mansion, was the one we ended up in.

The ground floor of the building is made up of many different little shops, and a cluster of money-changers. The maze-like corridors of shops could certainly do with better lighting. At the staircase landing, someone will undoubtedly come up to anyone who looks like a non-local, and offer cheap lodging, at fairly reasonable prices (they have to, if you think of it, just because of the intense competition for customers). So unless you know specifically where you want to go, or have plenty of time to shop around for a place you like, it makes sense to follow the person and check out his place.

In our case, it was a lady that offered to show us her guesthouse, which is actually a cluster of rooms on one of the floors inside the building. The “office” where they work out from is one of the apartments. The lift is dingy, slow, yet there was constant traffic of people going up and down. Similarly, the corridor is grimy, with dried stains which looked as though a trigger-happy betel-nut chewing auntie had passed through. “Well, I’ve been in worse”, I comforted myself. The lady passed us the room key. “I mean, how bad can it be right?”

Surprisingly, once we turned the key, the interior was a clean, bright room, with twin beds, nice white sheets and a tiny bathroom. Not what I expected, considering the outside corridor. It was very tight quarters though, with the door opening narrowly missing the corner of one of the beds. No matter, the room was sufficient, air-conditioned even.

Out we go for dinner. Again, as elsewhere in Hong Kong, space is a premium. The pizza joint where we had dinner was yet another example of making full use of limited space. A short flight of steps wound up to the 2nd floor (1st floor was a storefront), and led to the 5x3m waiting area. Indeed, the eatery seemed like it was set within the confines of a 5 room Singaporean HDB flat.

Savouring Bits of Hong Kong

Recall the story of the 5 blind men feeling various parts of an elephant, with each concluding with different ideas of what an elephant is. Hong Kong here is the elephant, and with so many things to do, different visitors would have different experiences. Some think of HK as a big financial center, some know it as a cacophony of noise within the side streets, offering cheap eats and street charms. Yet others consider it an outdoor heaven, outside of the city lies expanses of hills and trekking opportunities. Me? I’m the blind man who sees it as a shopping mecca. Mongkok, Kowloon was where we headed for. Stores and stores of electronic gadgets line the streets. Step into one, look around. Two shops down, another gadget shop. And then another. It was hard not to get into the groove. I ended up purchasing a new Asus notebook, a pair of cargo pants off Esprit (buttoned pockets are great for travelling) and more fancy gadgets.

One final thing. The HK metro system has a direct line that goes to the HK International airport. Known as the Airport Express, it goes from Hong Kong station down to the airport station. The brilliant thing about this Airport Express is that it conveniently allows tourists to check-in and deposit their luggage at the Hong Kong and Kowloon stations. How’s that when you want to continue shopping without lugging your gear about!

HK definitely deserves repeat visits. All you regulars who go there frequently, will surely agree.

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March 13, 2011September 3, 2018 by Red

Macau = Tasty Pastéis de Nata

Most people go to Macau to gamble. I go to Macau to eat Portuguese egg tarts.

The former Portuguese colony officially became part of China in 1999, as one of two Special Administrative Region (SAR) of China. It still maintains a high degree of autonomy and runs its own currency, education and legislative systems. The official languages are Portuguese and Cantonese, even though almost all the citizens are Chinese, with only 2% or so being Macanese, a mix of Chinese and Portugese ancestry.

Besides the casinos, of which there are many, including those along the new Cotai strip touted as the Las Vegas of the east, the other main draw is the mix of Portugese architecture and culture here, the result of more than 400 years of Portuguese interaction with the Chinese.

So in the morning of 13^th Mar 2011, we took the bus back from Kaiping, China to the Border Gate in Zhuhai and crossed back into Macau. That was about noon, and we had a few hours in the Macau Peninsula before taking the 530pm fast ferry to Hong Kong, the third leg of this trip.

We headed out by public bus towards the ruins of St. Paul’s Cathedral, which was the main highlight of this UNESCO heritage area. It was crowded. You get all sorts of tourists, Westerners, Asians (mainland Chinese, Indonesians, Filipinos) all posing in front of the impressive façade, the only remains of the cathedral. Around the area, within walking distance, lies the Outer Walls of the old Fortress, whose interior has now been transformed into the ultra-modern Macau Museum.

That done, we walked down the narrow streets leading out from the cathedral towards the Largo do Senado, a pedestrian square where neo-classical buildings give the area a charming feel. And the mild weather adds to the general atmosphere. Interestingly enough, there was a protest by what appeared to be marginalized old wives (or something, neither of us spoke or read Cantonese).

The walk from the cathedral to the square was interesting enough, through the throng of human traffic, mostly camera toting tourists and souvenir hunters. The souvenirs here are the almond cookies and wife cakes and Portuguese egg tarts, of which I bought plenty. Almost every other shop on the stretch is a bakery selling these sweets.

Evening. An easy ride to the harbour, and we are on the fast ferry to Kowloon, Hong Kong. Next up: Hong Kong skyline by night and the symphony of lights in Hong Kong Harbour.

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March 12, 2011September 3, 2018 by Red

The Watchtowers of Kaiping

The Kaiping Diaolou are a cluster of stone watchtowers located in Kaiping, in the Guangdong province of China, built in the 1920s and earlier. These watchtowers are fascinating because they are a mix of eastern and western architectural influences. You can see how pillars and domes are built atop the towers instead of traditional Chinese style roofs found during the time. Because of this, the entire area around Kaiping has been designated a UNESCO heritage site in 2007.

How do these towers come about? Apparently, in the early part of the 20^th century, emigrants from China worked elsewhere in the world: in North America, Canada, around South east Asia (Malaysia), and when they returned home, they build these towers with features from buildings found from those places. So you get influences from baroque architecture, with inlets, domes, and plenty of lines and curves running around the towers. Actually I half expected to see one of those stone gargoyles perched atop these towers.

What are these towers for? Banditry was a problem back then, even way before the 1920s when most of the towers were built. So villagers, in an effort to combat the banditry, built these defense towers out of solid concrete, with grills on windows and big iron doors. In the event of a bandit attack, they would leave their homes and gather inside these towers. With some as high as seven storeys, the lower floors are for defense and the upper floors are living quarters. On the open roofs, turrets jut out from the four corners, where snipers can take aim at the bandits below.

Interestingly, the name Diaolou itself originated from two words, Lou which is tower, and Diao which means to toss. The story was that a wife tossed herself off one of these towers instead of giving away the location of her husband and child.

There are a few clusters of diaolou in the surrounding area of around Kaiping city. The tourism brochure I had lists five convenient clusters for tourists to visit. Li Yuan Garden has two diaolou within its premises. The garden, built by a returning Chinese American, Xie Wei Li combines Chinese traditional gardening, Southern China water-town style landscaping and Western architecture.

The second cluster is the Zili village cluster, totaling 9 diaolou, built in the 1920s by prosperous emigrants returning from Chicago and Malaysia. They are located overlooking paddy fields and several western style villas. The third cluster is the MaJianlong villages, five villages where emigrants returned from places such as the U.S., Mexico, Canada and Australia. The fourth cluster is Chikan town, which evolved from an ancient town established during the Qing dynasty to a bustling area when the local wealthy Chinese returned and set up their businesses and raised buildings with the Western architectural styles they saw. Lastly, there’s also the JinJiang village cluster, whose family members returned home from US and Canada.

KW and I visited the first 3 sites, our tight schedule not allowing us to do more before dusk. OK. Getting there. Here’s how we did it. This is Day 1 of 3. We took the midnight flight on Jetstar Asia out of Singapore and landed in Macau International Airport at 2am. Since the border crossing into China opened only at 7am, we had 5 hours to try and catch some sleep at the airport. The public buses in Macau were easy enough to tackle, signs were informative and we were at the border control building soon enough. It was a bit of a sightseeing bus ride, since we passed by the centre, and the ubiquitous casinos found all around Macau.

Border Control. Macau borders Zhuhai, China. The border crossing is painless, but the amount of human traffic that goes through is tremendous. My first step into China proper, the immediate area is Zhuhai city, full of commuters who cross the border daily to work. We look for the long distance bus station, fail badly and ended up taking one of the tourist coaches to Kaiping. Zhuhai, the city, is one of the Special Economic Zones (SEZ) where the primary business is trade. And it shows, tall condominiums sprout everywhere on the outskirts of the city, and more are in construction.

We reached Kaiping city around noon, and had some Iranian la mian, or at least that’s what the signage says. The roadside joint was run by a Muslim Chinese family. Mummy cooks in the back, while daddy clears table and maintains order. Son makes the hand-made noodles while daughter serves. The place is pretty popular too, with a constant stream of customers. Me, I’m just happy to get warm food into my insides. The weather here is too cold, plus I never learn my lesson. I keep bringing too few warm clothing.

So we parked ourselves at a hotel before flagging one of the local tuktuks type of taxis to bring us around. I was expecting to be quoted stupid prices, so it was a pleasant surprise that the entire trip, including waiting time amounted to only 120 RMB for the two of us. So we headed towards the Diaolou clusters, a 150 RMB ticket per person covers all five clusters.

Local tourists are aplenty around the Diaolou clusters. Foreigners? Yes, but not many. Asians non-China tourists? Just the two of us. I seriously need to brush up on my vocab if I’m going to be traveling around China alone next time. The Diaolou themselves are fascinating structures, some of the interior are well preserved, and climbing up to the top, you can see a great view of the countryside.

At night, we were back in Kaiping city for dinner and a rest. It’s Day 1 of a three day blitz and the lack of sleep at the airport this morning was taking its toll. Check out this next post for Day 2, in which we get out of China, explored Macau, and hit Hong Kong, all in a day. http://www.thefuriouspanda.com/2011/03/27/macau-tasty-pasteis-de-nata/

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February 27, 2011December 5, 2017 by Red

Day 4 – Rajshahi division, Hello and Farewell in a Day

Date: 06 Feb 2011
Location: Hotel Victory, Dhaka

The plan for today was impromptu. The initial plan was to go back to Dhaka and spend two more days there, doing a day trip out to the Sonargon on day 5. But as usual, the travel lust in me sets in, and the daft adventurer in me decides on an elaborate plan to hit northwards towards Rajshahi by train, then taking a local bus from there to Bogra. And going out to Mahasthangarh, the oldest city in Bangladesh, ruins built in the 3rd century, before returning to spend the night in Bogra. On day 5, I would wake up at dawn and make my way by bus to Paharpur, the launch point to Sompuri Vihara, the 3rd and final UNESCO site here in Bangladesh. Then I would rush back to Bogra by lunch and take the 6 hour bus ride into Dhaka, ending a 5 day blitz through Bangladesh with a flurry of a finale.

But as usual, the best laid plains go awry. As i am writing this at the end of Day 4, I sit in a a hotel room in Dhaka, holed up and awaiting tomorrow’s hartal. Hartal? What the heck is a hartal you say?! Ok, to explain further how I ended up here, we need to go back to the start of today.

The day started off reasonably uneventful. Early morning at 530am, I left my lodging and walked towards the train station, since there were no rickshaws out and about this early in the morning. The Khulna train station was crowded, and the Intercity train was parked by the platform, ready to set off around 7. Other than a smart-ass local who leeched a second cup of tea off me when I ordered mine, yes, somehow everywhere I go there’s also these kinds of over-zealous idiots who tries to make friends with some hidden motive, it was a quiet morning.

At the platform, I met Halim Nazrul, who works in the pharmaceutical industry. Everyone here who speaks decent English, is a degree holder from one of the many universities in the country. Most I spoke to even had MBAs. But here, in a country of more than 150 million people with the highest population density in the world (excluding tiny city states like Singapore of course) and where poverty is widespread, a good education does not necessarily lead to a good job and high pay. Heck, even Karim, the Bangla cleaning guy in my office, has a general degree, yet he moved to Singapore to slog for a few years, earning much more than he would in the same time back home.

Ok back to Halim, I try to impress him with my 3 days worth of Bengali by pointing out the Bangla numbers printed above the carriages, and asking him which one corresponds to my ticket number. We speak, and he genuinely was excited at meeting a foreigner from Singapore, and a tourist at that. We board the train, and head towards my carriage. I find that instead of the private cabins on first class, where you have 4 to a cabin, my ticket leads me to sulob class, which is still in the 1st class carriage, but comprise two long cushioned benches facing each other. There was one other old guy whose name i did not catch, in the chair opposite me, and the next two hours were spent talking to Halim and the old guy. Well, more Halim because the old guy doesn’t speak much English and Halim had to act as translator whenever the former asked me anything. Actually, I was quite thankful for the old guy, for he provided a respite when I needed a break. Earnest Halim would leave me alone for a while and talk to old guy instead.

The train ride was recommended by those exchange students at Grameen Bank i met yesterday, which influenced my decision to go north. By now, I had taken an impressive variety of tranport on this trip. There’s the plane into Dhaka, the rickshaws, the CNG tuk-tuks, the shared tempos, cabs, a Rocket steamer, the Sundarbans boat, public buses, this inter-city train, and later on i would top up my list with the infinitely more comfortable bus coaches.

The intercity train stops at each town and city along the way, hence its name. At each stop, vendors would walk up and down selling their wares through the train windows. Halim and the old guy alighted two hours into the journey, leaving me with my posse of fans and hangers-on who had crowded around my seating area, eager to find out more about the foreigner. I am honoured from all the attention given, and continued to talk with them, but after a while, it can be exasperating trying to converse with my barely there Bangla and their barely there English, especially when all I wanted to do was take a nap. I shifted to the window seat and promptly fell asleep leaning against the window, only waking up when I reached Rajshahi, the last station.

Rajshahi is a university town, the Rajshahi university is one of the major landmarks in the city, and young university students flock the streets around campus. I did not spend any time there, preferring instead to get on the Bogra bus immediately. It was 1pm. I passed by the university though, and outside was a famous memorial statue commemorating the independence of 1971, from Pakistan. Here’s an article i picked out from the local tabloid summarising the painful history of the country.

Another interesting fact is that 21st february is International Mother Language Day, which celebrates the mother tongues of each country. This day originated in Bangladesh where, in the struggle for independence, some protesters were killed when they refused to adopt Urdu as per Pakistan as the national language, instead keeping to Bangla. This day was later incorporated into the International Mother Language day we know today.

Hmmm. Conversation with Halim back on the train also led to languages, specifically, why despite both Singapore and Bangladesh being former British colonies, the usage of English is Singapore was so widespread but in Bangladesh, only a smattering of people spoke English fluently. Welll, according to Halim, the reason is because during the period of British rule, the Muslims in Bangladesh refused to learn or practise English, while the Hindus were the only ones who picked up the language.

Going on, the two hour Bogra bus actually took three hours. Packed, as usual I was shepherded to the front of the bus, where some university student types can be found, and invited to sit with a certain M.A.Matin, who from the sound of his name, as well as his features, would be a Hindu. Mr Matin is a teacher, and he is going back to Bogra carrying a brand new desktop bought in Rajshahi, tucked tightly on the floor between his legs, for his daughter. He is a pretty quiet man, (and for that I am thankful), but we do talk, and he shows me some black and white stills that he has just printed and bringing back to his school for an exhibition. The said photos show very disturbing shots of the previously mentioned 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War: bodies on the ground, gaunt corpses, soldiers with weapons, and the like.

It was on further conversation with Matin, however, that made me realise that I won’t be able to complete my itinerary. Apparently, Feb 7, tomorrow is the day of a country-wide hartal, or strike. Organised by the opposition party BNP, it is to protest against the rising food prices, and the government plans to build a brand new airport near Dhaka. During this strike, he said, protesters would demonstrate peacefully in various cities and hotspots around Bangladesh (like universities!!). How he knew this? Apparently, hartals such as these were common, the last one being back in November. Such hartals cripple the country and economy, whether they actually achieved their purpose is questionable.

During one of these hartals, all shops will be closed, and all transport on the street will stop. It would probably be the only time when Dhaka’s streets will be free of the daily jam, i thought to myself. Any cars or buses found on the street run the risk of getting stoned, vandalised and maybe even set alight by demonstrators. The rickshaws would obviously be the exception, for no one really bothers with them. What a fix to find myself in, i mean, what are the odds of me hitting a strike day during a 5 day visit (well, yeah, these strikes ARE commonplace here, but still!).

I looked in my local papers, and with a sigh, saw an article which confirmed what Matin said. There was no way I would be able to find a public bus into Dhaka tomorrow. It left me no choice, I will have to forego all other plans, and from Bogra, take the next bus out to Dhaka. If only they postponed the hartal by a day or something, then I could complete all the sights as planned. Well, time to adapt as necessary.It was 430pm, and the bus ride is 6 hours. I booked the 6pm coach, from the many coach companies that ply the Bogra-Dhaka route. Took my first proper meal for the day (i love the salt, it is the main condiment here, and i read somewhere they add something into the salt to make it very tasty, something like Ajinomoto or MSG), and proceeded to wait for coach to set off.

Actually, there is a bit of schadenfreude here, I am silently anticipating how the strike would turn out tomorrow. Reaching Dhaka at around 1am, I paid an exorbitant amount for a CNG to take me to Hotel Victory, located in the heart of Dhaka, Motijheel. Since I was going to be stuck the entire day in the hotel tomorrow, I decided to dispense with the 2 dollar hotels of the past few days, and splurge on a 30-40 USD room with aircon, cable tv, comfy beds and an internet connection. It was dark as I walked around the corner where the CNG dropped me off, to Hotel Victory. Little did I know that the nondescript building beside Hotel Victory was actually the main office and center of operations for BNP, the opposition party which instigated tomorrow’s hartal.

Next entry: 7th Feb, hartal in Dhaka!

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February 21, 2011December 5, 2017 by Red

Day 3 – In search of Royal Bengal Tigers – The Sundarbans

Date: 05 Feb 2011
Location: Society Hotel, Khulna,

So everyone starts asking, why Bangladesh? Why not India or Sri Lanka or some other South Asian country? This entry’s why. The Sundarbans. A complex network of tidal waterways, mudflats and small islands of salt-tolerant mangrove forests, the Sundarbans is the largest mangrove forest in the world, a UNESCO world heritage site, a finalist in the New 7 Wonders of Nature, in general it’s a little piece of awesome within Bangladesh.

Actually, only part of it is included in Bangladesh, albeit the larger part. A smaller chunk of the forest lie within India’s borders, where it is known as the Sundarbans National Park. The Bangladesh part though, is what we are interested in. Home to various flora and fauna, the beast that captures most visitors’ imaginations would be the endangered royal bengal tiger, a native of the forests. The tiger, numbering around 300, is the single biggest bengal tiger concentration in the world. Here, as elsewhere, tiger poaching remains a problem, but the Sundarban tigers do pretty well in these freshwater swamps, tiger attacks account for 100-250 (source:Wikipedia) attacks per year. This number is unusually high, and the more aggressive behaviour of the tigers in this region has been attributed to several possible reasons. One of them is apparently due to them drinking the salty water, which makes them slightly crazy, and results in them attacking humans.

And thus, The Sundarbans would have to be one of the highlights of my Bangladesh trip, and prior to leaving Singapore, I arranged for a day tour of the Sundarbans.

Today morning, I got up at 7am, had a quick cup of locally brewed fresh cha, (which came with free attention from the cha drinking locals) before making my way across the river back to Hotel Pashtur, where I was to meet my guide. There were two of them, and we proceed to get some packed lunch before loading onto the boat. Somewhere along the way, one of the guides went off to another boat, which apparently had more tourists, and I was left with the other. This chap, whose name I didn’t clearly get, didn’t speak the best English, and I only realised that after we set off.

The boat-man was actually a boat-kid, an overeager young boy named Al-Amin, and his job was to start the engine and steer the boat through the canals. The boat itself was a small seaworthy wooden structure, agile enough to weave around the narrow canals and rigged up enough to plow through the muddy waters of the Sundarbans, chugging away on its noisy engine. I was of course the only passenger on this boat, which would explain why the one day tour was so costly (by Bangladesh standards, 120 USD is a small fortune; for comparison, my hotel last night was 1.50 USD). Ok, most of the cost went to the park entrance fees, the hiring of an armed guard (to protect from tiger attacks, no less!) and other neccessities like the boat rental etc, “and of course the profit margin, which isn’t much”.

The boat would set off from Mongla port, toward the Karamjal camp, and then towards Habaria camp, and from there make the return trip back to Mongla. It was a serene boat ride, the first part was through a large channel, deep enough for large ships, anchored in the middle, just off Mongla port, ready to set off into the Bay of Bengal. Our little vessel hugged the river bank, and I was treated to the sight of mudflats and a thick expanse of mangrove, leading off from the bank and getting thicker and thicker the further inland you look. It looked a bit, for those of you Singaporeans, like the mangrove swamps you find in Pulau Ubin (Kampung Chek Jawa area), except you need to multiply that area by one billion ^^.

Going deeper into the Sundarbans, I perched myself on the roof of the boat, which resembled a sun-deck. I laid a cushion, and after about 20 minutes of admiring the natural surroundings, proceeded to read my book. I tried holding a conversation with Guide Whose Name I Didn’t Catch, And Is Unpronounceable, but gave up since it was too tedious. We passed by several little settlements on the outskirts of the Sundarbans, there were a few thousand living within the Sundarbans, moving around, possibly becoming tiger food once in a while. More interestingly, I read about the honey hunters, men who braved the deadly Sundarbans bees to collect their honey and sell. And then I realised that was the bottled yellow stuff the guy behind the Hotel Pashtur counter was trying to show me. Orh.

We reached Karamjal camp within the hour, and disembarked. There were plenty of locals here, visitng the Sundarbans as part of a weekend day trip, since today (Saturday) is a non-working day. There was a zoo, or rather a wildlife conservation area, which is sadly, nothing much to get excited about. There were a couple of monkeys in cages, a spotted deer enclosure and many, many baby crocodiles. No tigers, unfortunately, lol. And anyway, I was a better exhibit than the animals. These Bangla tourists and their families were queuing up to take photos of/with me.

Also in Karamjal camp, there was a raised wooden boardwalk that meandered through the mangrove forest, giving the visitor a glimpse of the inland terrain. The boardwalk ended but the path continued. I followed my guide who kept stopping, and using my camera to take photographs of me. Now, for any of you who has traveled anywhere with me, you already know that I hardly take any photographs of myself. Other than one or two pictures for memories and to prove I’ve been there, I don’t really see the point. So it is to my chagrin that the guide kept offering to take my picture. After a while, I just told him upfront that I’d rather take nature, without me inside the photo. He duly obliged, and I get off with a souvenir of 20+ shots of me in various poses modelling in the Sundarban wilds.

We set off on the boat again, I bade farewell to my legions of adoring Bangladesh fans in Karamjal (hey I can be delusional if I want to, it must the salty water the tigers drink, it gets in the air…) before setting off towards Habaria, the next destination and final stopover point. This was at least a two hour journey, and the initial awe of passing through these waterways had long since subsided. It was getting hot too, so I decided to take a nap. The scenery was similar all the way, and other than a few birds, whose fancy colours I was unable to distinguish since I did not carry binoculars, there weren’t any other animals.

I was woken up by my guide. Still woozy and trying to orientate myself, I was told we had reached Habaria. With all the expectation that came along with a two hour trip, it ended up being a bit of a disappointment. From Habaria was where travelers set off towards their 4 day Sundarbans trip, and here was where you would need to pay for the armed guard and also the park fees. (I may be wrong, but I read somewhere while researching the Sundarbans that getting the boat up to Karamjal would not require any park fees or armed guard fees).

I spent a grand total of 15 minutes following my guide and the bored armed guard into the Habaria undergrowth. We had to stop and turn back when the guide pointed out dried blood on the ground just off the path. He said that the blood was less than 3 days old, and it was not safe to go further, unless I had a death-wish to get mauled by a Bengal tiger. And so, disappointed, but glad I won’t be tiger fodder, I made my way back to the campsite, stopping by a gazebo, where I would find a group of other tourists. There were 5 of them, curious mix of 3 Germans, 1 Chinese, 1 Mexican, 1 Brazilian. I learnt that they were a group of students interning at the local Garmin Bank, and having met each other only a week ago, they had decided to go out on this Sundarbans trip together. They offered me some of their packed lunch, and we had some conversation, mainly me asking them about their backgrounds, and them asking me why in the world would a Singaporean go to Bangladesh for a solo holiday destination. It was probably the best part of the day, I realised I missed the friendly banter, and really wondered why I could not have been put on the same boat. After all, I found that my missing guide from earlier in the day was their guide!

After lunch, we retraced our steps back to the moored boat, and began the long journey back to Mongla. I would have loved to go deeper in, and dreamt of setting off from Habaria all the way south till I could see the Bay of Bengal, but that would require at least a 4 day trip. Thinking about it, i would probably die of boredom if I was out 4 days alone, with a guide who doesn’t speak English and a boat-kid who’s more interested in my flashpacking gear.

The trip itself was good, I expected to see the beautiful scenery and I did. An added plus was that during the return trip, we detoured a bit and went through some narrow canals near Karamjal. However, on the whole, I found the entire experience quite unprofessional, especially since it came from a proper tour company. It seemed that the standard basic service that was to be accorded to a tourist on a tour was not there. This is probably attributed to my tour guide with the unpronounceable name who doesn’t speak good English, who seemed more eager to shepherd me through the entire trip during the trekking bits in Karamjal and Habaria. Also, Al Amin didnt leave me much privacy by sitting on my shoulder while I was typing these entries as well as checking my online maps, and when he started asking for freebies. I wondered how much of the share of what i paid these guys actually got, and how much went to the middlemen who did the liaising online. It seemed to me at least that with the way these two are behaving, they got pittance. Either that or they think im a Dubai prince with a bottomless bank account.

End of trip: It left me strangely unsatisfied, and I looked back and realised that a 1 day trip was simply too short to see anything. A 3 to 4 day trip through the Sundarbans would make more sense, with friends to enjoy time on the roof of the boat. With a 4 day trip, the journey would take you through the entire length of the Sundarbans, and culminate in a visit to the southeastern tip of the forest, aptly named Tiger Point. The day trip I took barely scratched the surface, Karamjal Camp to Habaria Camp was just the appetizer. And too little time was spent in Habaria, no thanks to the tiger blood trails.

From Mongla, I decided to make my way up north to Khulna. During the long boat ride, I had planned to go up north to Rajshahi, after a recommendation from one of the German exchange students to take the country train. The train sets off early morning from Khulna, and so I took the one hour bus ride that evening into Khulna. Khulna, described in Lonely Planet as a town with a frontier feel, would have been a problem because I reached the bus station at 8pm, with no orientation of the town whatsover. I do hate reaching towns (cities are worse) at night, because of the myriad of uncertainties. At best, I would be overcharged by the cab driver, or CNG over here, for a trip to my hotel. Worse case scenario, I would get mugged or robbed. Fortunately, I would come across more Bangladeshi hospitality. During the bus ride from Mongla to Khulna, I was seated at the front of the bus. As usual, a local youth, Talat Mahmud, came up to seat himself beside me and proceeded to Facebook on his phone. Curiousity eventually got the better of him, and he asked about me. I learnt that Talat is a student in the local college university in Khulna, and we talked a little. When I got off the bus, he accompanied me on a rickshaw to the train station, where I would buy a train ticket to Rajshahi (6.30am intercity train) before we went to the motel I found in LP, Hotel Society. I invited Talat to have dinner with me, but he declined. Between speaking Bengali to get my train ticket for me, and bargaining and even paying for my rickshaw, Talat probably saved me an hour of aimless wondering around Khulna.

I dumped my bag in my room, and went downstairs to get some dinner. Hotel Society was located in a colourful part of Khulna, with many jewelry shops, which made me feel safer walking alone in the street at night. I bought random food to try from the street vendors, packed them and went back to my room to relax. Tomorrow, I would head off to Rajshahi, and from there, make my way to Bogra, the launchpad to my third World Heritage Site, the Sompuri Vihara.

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