The return from Dhaka

In many ways, the ending is so often like the start and so it was, sort of, when leaving Dhaka.

I arrived at the airport at 0630 as suggested for my 0830 flight to be greeted by lots of people waiting in lines. Previous experience told me that these were not queues in the sense of being one after another [1] [These are called serials in modern Bengali.] but they were all waiting to pass the security to enter the airport building. Dhaka Airport does not, normally, allow non-passengers into the airport terminal so there is a wait to get in and people saying goodbye outside. Once my cousin had cleverly found the queue for foreign passports, labelled as the “staff entrance”, I was able to get in after a little wait and only a few people pushing in front. 

Once past the security scanner, I could not see any signs so I walked forward as far as I could and saw that my check-in desk was B. I had no idea where I, or that, was so took a guess to go left and found D. I kept going until I found a queue that seemed to be for Qatar but I asked to check.

"No, this is to Dubai",

I checked with someone else and it was to Doha when I asked them. I chanced it and waited in line as it was heading to the Qatar Air counters - and it was actually a line as there was a woman telling passengers which desk to go to and giving them the departure card to fill in. This was relatively organised although the line still moved slowly and it had taken me 30 mins to get to the back of the line - so it was 0700. The desks themselves were a little bit of a scrum but then as I got closer, the woman just walked off. She didn't return, nobody replaced her and the queue stood still. It was about 0730 at this point and the guy in front would not move without her say so (he seemed a little worried so was unlikely to be a regular traveller) and the desks were not empty anyway. Someone else moved and then so then did I to the desks. Here, they spent quite a long time weighing the bags and talking so I got there at 0740. I explained to the desk that I would like a window seat and that I had tried online check-in but the mobile app was stopping (as had happened before). He admonished me for not being there at 0630 to which I said that I had come at 0630 and then he said I was lucky to be getting on at all - this with a fairly large line still to be checked in. Lucky? He then weighed my bags and told me to go to immigration quickly, which I did. He did not listen to my request at all.

Dhaka airport is all about regular micro-aggressions and it is tiresome. It is really tiresome. After the pushing and shoving to enter the airport itself, the queue for immigration was short but, of course, not without its own micro-aggressions as a few people pushed in front again to present passports to the officials to be allowed into the passport control. As I reached the front, again, a couple of people came in front of me and as the second was being checked, I said "What is this?" in English. The passenger in front ignored me with his sense of entitlement but the official actually saw this and stopped checking and checked mine instead and told the guy that he'd pushed in. It was a small victory, but you have to take them. Micro-victories are better than none.

Getting into the foreigners' queue for passports, it was quite short and orderly, but of course, this changed when someone pushed in and then when I was called, the official decided to split the line into two for reasons of apparent inefficiency - it was inexplicable. 

My gate was at the opposite side to check-in necessitating a walk across the terminal which seemed a little underplanned for such a small airport. I'm not sure why you wouldn't put the gate nearer the desk when you have so few gates and desks but it might be to appreciate the architectural features. Unlikely, but possible. Sensing a pattern, I assumed at the gate that there would be a queue for some security at which some people would push in front and I was not disappointed. Well, I was still a little bit disappointed but not surprised. Here, I was asked by a man with combat fatigues to take my belt off and keep it separate along with my wallet, phone and laptop. As I got the security belt, another man told me to put it all in the bag. He did this as the other man was telling everyone loudly enough, to separate them. I just wanted to get through so I followed the instructions of whoever was closest...

Not bothering to wait at the gate, I walked through to the plane and the noise made me desire the blissful separation of some headphones. There were a lot of mobile phone conversations taking place and at volumes that were not exactly trying to be discreet. It may be a little unfair to keep commenting on the microaggressions but it really does make a not particularly pleasant journey type even worse when it is not smooth either.

The flight itself was not too eventful but it felt long as I was tired but it wasn't really comfortable enough to sleep (I was also sat somewhere with a little less legroom as the seat in front had the entertainment system under it) so I didn't. I had a single serving next to me but not a friend by any stretch of the imagination. I did have headphones though.

Doha was a quick stop as it was only a little over an hour before the next leg so I pretty much transferred directly to the gate whereupon I was told that my seat had changed again. There were plenty of children travelling, apparently, and so I had been moved from an aisle seat to the worst kind of seat - the middle of a three so no window and no aisle and the engine noise too. And plenty of children.

London was not too faraway now and although my time in Bangladesh had overall been a delight, the flight back seemed wholly appropriate.

London to Dhaka

Bangladesh, like a number of Islamic countries, does not have the same weekend that we have in the UK but actually has Friday and Saturday as the weekend. This is kind of interesting in its own way, but less convenient for me than I'd like - it means a Saturday departure meaning a Sunday arrival just means no weekend at all. Thus, a Friday departure is needed to get some weekend time in. (obviously, this is sort of reversed on return as I can leave on a Sunday and still have a bit of weekend on returning) 

And a Friday night departure would not really work, so I took an extra day off and made my way. 

A morning flight from Heathrow is both a delight and a pain. It is marginally easier and less busy on the tube but still busier than I'd expect, or hope. London is quite busy… I was flying with Qatar Airways and so had a stopover in Doha. Qatar, like so many Middle Eastern countries, is trying hard to reputation launder and other than the obvious sporting methods of holding a World Cup through dubious means, it is also spreading the brand through air travel as Emirates, Etihad, et al are doing. What this means is quite a decent service using new planes at a relatively low price through an airport hub in Doha. I chose a flight on the A380 for reasons covered before but was unable to properly check in before due to technical issues and so was assigned a seat in the middle, which I'm not a fan of. As the flight was full, this was not something that could be changed so I saw the flipside of A380 travel - boarding takes ages. The person at check-in was very pleasant and although I didn't actually complain and just asked if there were other seats available, she did try to accommodate this, albeit unsuccessfully. The flight was at 9am yet boarding was printed on the pass at 8 and they actually started then too. And they needed to with plenty of people and many of them being rather young, it was due to be a noisy leg. 

The flight itself was not too bad as I was fortunate enough to be seated with a very pleasant neighbour - one of the better single-serving friends. As she was on her way to Melbourne from London, she really was in for the long haul but had some experience of the airline and transit so was able to fill me in with some useful info. I reciprocated with, what else but, stories of London changes in popularity and places to visit. Needless to say, the Museum of London was unknown to her. I even managed to talk of social arbitrage as done, in my opinion, by Middle Eastern countries. That wasn't a phrase I expected to use. 

It was a flight that I'd hoped to sleep on but it didn't really happen so I dozed while listening to (previously reviewed) Your Name like a duvet and wished I could sleep. I had about 7 hours to wait in Doha so maybe I could nap there. Or maybe not.

Doha Airport is new and has the modern feel of all the modern airports with the similar colours and feelings. And, similarly to some airports designed for the future, it feels empty and soulless. Having checked a website about long transit times, I was expecting a nice, convenient stop which it was in many ways as there was plenty of seating but I assume, as it was an evening to night break, that it was quiet. Of course there was plenty of shopping opportunities to indulge in. More notable was the internal rail system to go from one end of the terminal to the other - usually done with moving walkways. It is something to remember but I was the only one on it and it seemed a little ostentatious.

After a spot of food, I found a few different places to sit and rest - there was a “quiet room” with reclining chairs which was a bit more comfortable for a lie down. The airport also makes great play of free wi-fi in transit which was pretty handy for checking my boarding time and gate. As I was checking the flight time, I noticed that my seat number had changed. As a result of my comments about my seat being assigned automatically, I had been told that there was a chance of an upgrade on the Dhaka leg - it seems the chance was not just a placation tactic. 

I went to the gate to confirm and the soft introduction began. The queue was long to get in and completely not a queue. Not at all. I went to the desk/priority boarding to check but then one person just went straight in front of me to the desk and then another stood in front. This was at the “priority” bit where I was asking a question, but maybe they took it more literally. Waiting at the gate after this, the introduction continued as staff explained to different people that “you can't do that” as they pushed the door or tried to go past boundaries. It does not look like a fun job. I've always wondered whether I just thought that Bengali people talk louder because I understand it but I am now pretty sure that isn't the reason and the noise of people just having conversations was like listening to arguments. 

The upgrade was very fortunate and insulated me from the noise and frustration that seemed certain earlier. In terms of the difference, of course the space was far greater and the service was very good with better food. I did not, however, have the benefit of a single-serving friend with whom to be convivial so there was that. The seat itself, with reclining flat and the screen to keep you entertained, reminded me very much of the lounge in a capsule hotel - but not the one that aped airline cabins. Also, people were sleeping and one particular person snoring was louder than all the kids on the first leg... 

Landing at Dhaka was uneventful but the airport was not uneventful - it never is. Passport control was relatively short due to the fact that I got out fairly quickly but they spent some time doing paperwork and I'm pretty certain they took my picture without telling me when or where to look. Once past the first guy where I feigned ignorance of the language, there was another queue to give the immigration form to someone to be let out. This actually was a queue as it was a thin corridor but of course that didn't stop people pushing. Baggage reclaim made me feel pangs of nostalgia as it seemed unchanged from decades back and so looked a little tired. I don't mind it as it feels quite honest but it must hinder foreign investment when this is the first view of the country. There were a number of ripped and broken sections on the belt. I could not see how the process was managed but I waited at the baggage reclaim belts from the point suitcases came out and a full one hour after the first suitcases plopped onto the belt, I was still empty handed along with what seemed like most passengers. The belt itself was also empty as the baggage was brought out in instalments and with nice gaps between them so that the belt would empty (but not fill) a few times. I think I was in the fifth instalment which was after more than an hour.

It was frustrating so I thought it best to change the music I was listening to from the dark, dank electronica that I had been listening to to something a little more calming. As I had people waiting for me outside, I collected and moved on fairly briskly and then was greeted by what looked like a queue. After a few metres, it looked like two queues and then a few more metres later, three queues. And then, it looked like a scrum of people from all directions with trolleys and bags. All the baggage needed to then go past customs and was being scanned so all of the passengers then had to go through a single gate in order to be processed. With nobody queueing properly and tension high, this was not a pleasant experience but i eventually got near the front after thirty minutes or so with only a few bumps to my legs. As I went to the scanner, I noticed most were loading onto the luggage scanner and some were walking past - neither group seemed to be spoken to so I went past the scanner. Then, a man asked me where I had travelled  from and with the answer "London" I was waved through. London is such a great answer, isn't it? Having landed at 10am, I left just before 1pm and the airport is not that busy. You could say it was eventful, but maybe it wasn't eventful enough.

Something that I am not particularly used to is being received at the airport, either at home or away, but this was due to happen - about an hour or two earlier. Apparently my cousins that were meeting me were not sure if I had left or not but had stayed around and greeted me which was a huge relief. It was longer than normal, and longer than they expected but still within the bounds of the possible. I grew to learn that in Dhaka, everything was. 

I was happy to be collected by some cousins when I got outside at Dhaka airport for had that not happened, then whatever could happen next?

Bangladesh after some time

Where are you from then?
London
No, where are you really from?

This is a conversation that I've had in my head for years but, in reality, it has never happened in this way^[1]. The second question is always phrased much more carefully than this, with a clear interest in my background rather than the accusation of not being from London/UK. As I have said before, I am comfortable with the answer of London and I am fortunate to be able to say that.

When I do get the more carefully phrased question, the answer is usually

"My parents are from Bangladesh"

Which they are^[2].

When I was younger, I went to Bangladesh quite a few times, every 3 years or so up to age 11 and I have plenty of positive, wonderful memories which are etched into my mind and have clearly shaped me. But, since then, I have only been twice more and the last time I went was 11 years ago, via Hong Kong (as mentioned briefly). That particular trip was a strange one in many ways as I also saw a lot of people from the UK who happened to be there too (including my parents) for the first time in a while too so it was not quite the same experience - there was a dual layered reunion to it. It was, however, the first time that I travelled alone to Bangladesh and so it was also the first time I entered alone.

I have travelled to a few more places since then so I think I can take a more rounded, and comparative, view to Bangladesh now so I am looking forward to it although I cannot consider it as a normal holiday as I am not sure how much control I'll have within the week.

I didn't massively enjoy visiting Bangladesh the last time I went, as positive as seeing my family was, the country as a whole didn't leave a positive impression on me. Navigating parts of the social and actual infrastructure myself gave me a different view to that when I had my parents do much of that for me. The flight from Hong Kong to Dhaka was the first blast of Bangladesh that I had had in a while and the flight reminded me of the fact. The passengers were, as a group of passengers, a little more brusque and there was a greater sense of guards being put up by the cabin crew. This was something that I had always noticed but it was a stark difference from Japanese passengers on the previous flight to the Bengali ones on this. It was a plane with two aisles and I was sitting in a middle seat of the side/window grouping. The man next to me appeared initially to be travelling alone. Initially. Once the flight had been going for a while, I noticed that he was travelling with a woman and young girl (not the same ethnicity so I assumed wife, also based on interactions but I did not ask and confirm.) This seemed odd to me but he did not seem bothered as he still conversed with them and another man while at his seat. Which would not be too bad across the aisle, but he did so across the aisles. That isn't really possible quietly or with consideration. Luckily he did not have that much to say except to admonish his (assumed) wife when the little girl cried. When we were served food, he finished eating while others were being served and asked the crew to take it away. They explained that they had to serve everyone else first and he complained. When they went to continue serving, he decided to loudly say to them that he was going to leave the tray on the floor and put his seat into the reclined position. It struck me as more than a bit selfish. Flights can often be the soft introduction to what you'll get when you land, and so it proved.

It was also, the first time that I had left alone too and this was on a flight to Hong Kong, an 18 hour delayed flight to Hong Kong^[3]. This delay meant that the airline gave me a hotel to stay the night in with other passengers - another interesting journey into a Bangladesh I hadn't seen. The Hotel Sonargaon was pleasant enough but it was not always clearly explained what was happening and I think especially tricky for those that did not understand Bengali. I befriended some Japanese men that looked a little dazed and confused and explained the procedure but it was another insight into the social infrastructure. Had I not done that, I am not sure anyone else would have noticed. The men found themselves in Bangladesh as the were driving around the world and flew back home every so often to see their family. It sounded hellish to me, but they seemed to like it.

My last memory of Bangladesh, and the one that sticks with me, is the passport control as I left. I handed over the passport, and I paraphrase as it was not in English.

Officer opens and looks at passport and asks:

Hello, are you married?
Is that in my passport?
No, it isn't. Are you married?
Do you need to know that for passport control?
No. Are you married?
Is there a problem?
No. Have you had a wedding?
No, I am not married.

Officer smiles, looks a bit smug, closes passport and slides the passport to me.

I think it is about time.

This interaction left a mark on Bangladesh for me. I received so much advice from strangers about how to live my life in the UK and Japan and the implication that I was doing it all wrong. Unfortunately, that mark stayed and although there are many instances of it happening with people that had never met me before nor had any experience of living in either the UK or Japan, that was an almost perfect encapsulation of my frustration. Having spent the previous 18 hours in the company of strangers, it ended up being the line under the trip. Underlined.
Maybe that was unfair, but that was how I felt.

In 2005, I was flying from Tokyo via a stop in Hong Kong and so I was, culturally, in a different place to when I've flown from London. I speak with my parents in Bengali (as mentioned in comments on immigration statistics here) and so I do still use the language relatively frequently and am fairly comfortable with it for basic conversations - I'm less comfortable with it for the conversations that I'd like to have with a bit more complexity. But even so, my fluency is not too bad and I can get by. In 2005, it was less active and although I spoke to my parents on the phone^[4], it was clear that the fluency was not there in the same way. Since then, I speak Bengali more frequently and although it is still not at a level that makes me able to express myself, my lack of vocabulary means that I think I end up expressing a more friendly and child-like version of myself. Which is pretty useful actually as it is a a more likeable version.

The theme that runs through 2016 and early 2017 for me is the disconnect between myself and what I thought that the UK was. The fractured relationship that I now feel that I have with the wider UK^[5] has made me wonder whether that is why I'd quite like to visit Bangladesh again - or it could be a function of wanting a little more nostalgia after the success of it in 2016. It was an active decision to go so I hope that they were positive reasons when I dive down into my subconscious - I definitely hope the trip is positive.

I'm really looking forward to seeing my extended family again and what time has done to Dhaka but as a trip, it will be very different to how I usually proceed. Maybe that will be good too - and appropriate as I arguably defined my travel process last time I came to Bangladesh and maybe my method needs an update too. Maybe lots of things need an update.


<sup>1. This Life was a TV series set in London in the 1990’s which I rather enjoyed. It also had a cracking soundtrack which helped. It was about young graduates continuing their university friendships in a shared house while starting their legal careers. One of the characters was an Asian female and there is a specific scene I remember where she is asked by an Asian man where she is from, and he then asks again about where she is really from. She gave the British answer both times, but it sticks in my mind as the first time I remember that slight disconnect of second generation immigration being represented.↩
2. Incidentally, neither was born in Bangladesh as the country did not exist at either time.↩
3. I also ended up missing a day of work due to missing the connection to Tokyo and this was compounded by oversleeping after that for a first day at one school. I was very lucky that it was a school that I already had a decent reputation at and the lesson I ended up being late for was with a particularly lovely student who I continue to be in vague contact with. Fortune does not only favour the brave.↩
4. Rather strangely, just less than a month before I went to Bangladesh, I met a Bengali family in Nikko when travelling. I tried striking up conversation with them, which was noted to be out of character by my Japanese friend, in order to practice. Does everything just end up being practice for real life?↩
5. I have felt, conversely, an even greater positive connection with London as a result of taking on an almost safe haven status for me.↩</sup>