Bangladesh is a new state in an ancient land. Like the rest of South
Asia, it has been described as continually challenged by contradictions,
marred by inconsistencies to say the least. It is neither a distinct
geographical entity, nor a well-defined historical unit. Nevertheless,
it is among the 10 most populous nations; a place whose search for a
political identity has been protracted, intense and agonizing. The word
Bangladesh is derived from the word “Vanga” which was first mentioned in
the Hindu scripture Aitareya Aranyaka (composed between 500 BC and 500
AD). Bengal was reputedly first colonized by Prince Vanga, the son of
King Bali and Queen Sudeshna of the Lunar dynasty. The roots of the term
Vanga may be traced to languages in the neighbouring areas. One school
of linguists maintain that the word “Vanga” is derived from the Tibetan
word “Bans” which implies “wet and moist”.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Community projects: north-east
Ambitious eco-resorts are a clear sign of confidence in Bangladesh as
a tourist destination. In Sylhet, the Shuktara Nature Retreat (shuktararesort.com,
doubles from £34 B&B) is a group of brick and glass-walled
buildings designed by a local architect amid rolling hills. In the
Srimangal tea-growing area further south in Sylhet, DuSai (dusairesorts.com,
rooms from $120) is a grand resort that claims to be the first
five-star offering outside of Dhaka. No doubt both also have their eyes
on the Bangladeshi diaspora.
Yasmin
also takes me to her ancestral village, Ali Nagor, close to where we
started. It's surrounded by paddy fields and fishponds, and by the Surma
river, on whose sandy banks children are playing cricket. It's where
her father grew up and where, after founding a successful restaurant in
the UK, he built a bungalow. It's shady and cool inside, with a
wraparound veranda that receives a steady stream of visitors, from
Yasmin's cousins to the local imam, who constantly flashes us big grins
to reveal teeth stained from chewing paan (betel leaf combined with areca nut).
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The coast: south-east
Bangladesh is rarely considered a tourist destination. What people
know of it generally comes from news reports: floods, cyclones,
political strife, tragedies in garment factories.
"It has been stigmatised," says Yasmin Choudhury, who I am travelling with. "We never hear any positive news."
Yasmin was born and grew up in south-west London to Sylheti parents, but it's only since her father died suddenly in 2004 that she started to take real pride in her heritage. Now she's founded a company, Lovedesh, to overturn people's preconceptions (desh means country in Bengali, hence Bangladesh). Her aim is to showcase the best of the country, by offering escorted holidays, hosting wood-fired curry nights around the UK and promoting Bangladeshi fashion (which means traditional jamdani weaving, not H&M shirts).
I'm Yasmin's guinea pig – the first person she has taken to Bangladesh, apart from her 12-year-old daughter. Her aim is to try out places for her newly devised holiday itinerary. She's keen for my input, but it's hard to know where to start. One of the places I am initially undecided about is Cox's Bazar, a beach that stretches an incredible 125km down the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal. It sounds amazing, yet a number of Bangladeshis had advised me to skip it, calling it "overdeveloped" and "unimpressive". Even my guidebook is uncomplimentary: "World wonder it isn't." We decide to take a chance and travel south.
When we get to Cox's Bazar town, I can't help wondering if the naysayers are right. As the top domestic tourist destination, it's strewn with half-finished hotels – a muddle of high-rise, concrete blocks competing for a sea view. A fishy smell hangs in the air. When we climb into a tom-tom (as tuk-tuks are called here), our driver promptly crashes on a chaotic side street. It's hardly paradise.
But 10 minutes later, things take a turn for the better. The development around town is, indeed, a mess, but it's (currently) contained, which means you can leave the main parasol-strewn stretch behind and find yourself wandering the expansive shore, totally alone. It may not be bright-white sands and turquoise waters – the colour scheme is more beige and dusky blue – but it is wild, empty, pine-fringed and seemingly neverending. Later, we take a boat trip to Sonadia island, 9km away. We're the only people there – aside from a handful of fishermen, who live on the island year-round, drying fish in bamboo huts.
We book a boat trip with Pugmark
, the longest-established operator in the region. Visitors would
typically take a three- or four-day trip, staying overnight in the
boat's basic but snug cabins. We only have a day. As we drift along the
muddy waters, beside the low-rising, tangled foliage, we spot Ganges
dolphins (like marine dolphins but with longer noses). Then, in a side
stream, we run into some fishermen with a curious technique. To steer
the fish into their nets, they use otters on leads. Loudly squeaking and
squawking, the otters work in pairs to herd the fish.
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Yasmin was born and grew up in south-west London to Sylheti parents, but it's only since her father died suddenly in 2004 that she started to take real pride in her heritage. Now she's founded a company, Lovedesh, to overturn people's preconceptions (desh means country in Bengali, hence Bangladesh). Her aim is to showcase the best of the country, by offering escorted holidays, hosting wood-fired curry nights around the UK and promoting Bangladeshi fashion (which means traditional jamdani weaving, not H&M shirts).
I'm Yasmin's guinea pig – the first person she has taken to Bangladesh, apart from her 12-year-old daughter. Her aim is to try out places for her newly devised holiday itinerary. She's keen for my input, but it's hard to know where to start. One of the places I am initially undecided about is Cox's Bazar, a beach that stretches an incredible 125km down the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal. It sounds amazing, yet a number of Bangladeshis had advised me to skip it, calling it "overdeveloped" and "unimpressive". Even my guidebook is uncomplimentary: "World wonder it isn't." We decide to take a chance and travel south.
When we get to Cox's Bazar town, I can't help wondering if the naysayers are right. As the top domestic tourist destination, it's strewn with half-finished hotels – a muddle of high-rise, concrete blocks competing for a sea view. A fishy smell hangs in the air. When we climb into a tom-tom (as tuk-tuks are called here), our driver promptly crashes on a chaotic side street. It's hardly paradise.
But 10 minutes later, things take a turn for the better. The development around town is, indeed, a mess, but it's (currently) contained, which means you can leave the main parasol-strewn stretch behind and find yourself wandering the expansive shore, totally alone. It may not be bright-white sands and turquoise waters – the colour scheme is more beige and dusky blue – but it is wild, empty, pine-fringed and seemingly neverending. Later, we take a boat trip to Sonadia island, 9km away. We're the only people there – aside from a handful of fishermen, who live on the island year-round, drying fish in bamboo huts.
The forest: south-west
Leaving our surfer friends behind, we move on to Bangladesh's other major draw: the Sundarbans, the world's largest mangrove forest. On the map, you can clearly see the crisscrossing tributaries at the mouth of the Ganges making a fringe on the bottom of the country, and spilling across into India.
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