Head Out on the "Highway" (to Dhaka via Mymensingh)

For a good 20 minutes of the way to Myensingh my heart ached and my eyes leaked and I was so sad to be leaving Birisiri behind. I almost forgot to notice that I was on the back of a bike, and it was wonderful, the whole wind in my hair (and bugs in my teeth, ick), I loved it. 

After I stopped the tears (which I blamed internally on the wind in my eyes) and made myself think about the exciting stuff ahead. We zipped down the highway, me and my nameless driver (I asked, but never got an answer!), small villages and countryside streaking by. At a couple of points we stopped so he could introduce me to friends, and otherwise we wound our way along the road and through small dusty villages one at a time. 

I was wearing capris, so I was riding the bike facing forward (oddity here because women here ride sidesaddle because they're in skirts and dresses), hanging onto the back (rather than onto my driver - people are not touchy with strangers here).  I had my scarf pulled up over my head and my sunglasses on (my hair was flying everywhere and the bugs were getting in my eyes), so I was almost travelling incognito, save for the glaringly white skin of my arms and legs.  We passed 2 downed bridges, and I wondered if it was a strange coincidence of timing or if someone had tampered with them - no way for me to know, I was just happy I wasn't on them when they collapsed!

Next, after riding about half hour, we reached this very small town (think deserted dusty spaghetti-western main street) where there were few people on the road (usually both sides are lined with people walking and shopping and standing around, plus loads of vendors and such).  Instead, peering over my driver's shoulder from behind my sunglasses I saw 2 lines of policemen staggered on both sides of the street, about 5 or 6 of them.

As we were approaching, the first in the line of them stood in the middle of the lanes and gestured for us to stop. Traffic stop, I figure, I'm not too worried about it - I don't even know if there ARE traffic laws in this country, but surely it's no big deal.  Much to my alarm, my driver actually accellerated, and swiftly swerved around him as the next 3 officers ahead stepped into the lane as well gesturing and waving their hands for us to stop - I had no idea what was going on as they jumped out of the way to avoid being hit by our bike!

As we approached the final officer in the line he had his baton raised and he was just bringing down his arm to strike at us as we passed when I made a spilt-second decision and yanked my scarf off my head and took off my sunglasses so he could tell for sure that and let him see that I was a foreigner. The only thoughts in my head were (a) I hope he cares that I'm a foreigner, and (b) it is going to HURT if I go down on this bike, I better be ready to bail before that happens.

Now, my only wish is that I still had my camera out so you could see how fast that baton flew behind his back and he stepped out of our way when his shocked eyes met mine. Most of the police here are apprehensive of foreigners because the country is VERY concerned about how it is perceived in the global media - the police are NOT allowed to misbehave with foreigners around (as I've heard it told since this minor little event).

We continued on down the road with my driver peering occasionally into his rearview mirror as I wondered what on earth had just happened.  We pulled over every now and again to warn other riders that the police were in the town ahead, often meeting his friends along the way to make sure they avoided the same sort of trouble.

He pulled the bike off the road in a village a couple of stops up to stop and get some gas.  Many towns this way don't get service from fuel trucks, since the numbers of drivers in cities have grown and there isn't enough gas to go around.  You see little stands like this one here and there where fuel is being sold in recycled water and sprite bottles, and many of the bike drivers fill up with hit.  

Still fresh off our police adventure and not really able to communicate we met someone who spoke English, and I asked him what happened after the driver had filled him in. He had no idea, but suggested the police were looking for money. I was happy for our luck that they did indeed avoid dealing with me, and I was anxious to get back on the road so we could just get to Mymensingh.

As we continued on we passed a couple of police checkpoints further along the road, but happily they showed no interest in us other than a brief glance in our direction as we went along... it was a very strange stretch of moments in time, I can say that much!

I took a bit of video and some photos to distract myself, and before I knew it the 90 minutes had passed (my BUTT knew it, it was numb!!) and we had arrived on the bustling streets of Mymensing.

My driver stopped along the way to buy sunglasses (he didn’t have any) and asked me for 100Tk which I gave him with no concern (cringing thinking that Animesh would be mad at me, lol). We pulled into the bus station and he budded ahead of the line and the manager came out of his office to usher me inside rather than to the counter. He sold me the last seat on the bus to Dhaka and it wasn’t even 5 minutes before I was on the bus ahead of the crowd in the seat at the very back corner.

My motorcycle driver took me on the bus and set me in my seat. He chatted a moment with a man walking down the aisle and said to me “this man is good, he’s a friend, you don’t worry.” Okay, I don’t worry. The nice young man sat down beside me, on his way to Dhaka for business, and I waved goodbye with thanks to my driver who (I can only assume?) went on his way back to Birisiri.


The bus ride was uneventful and loud, as the driver honked at EVERYTHING that moved along the road. When we finally pulled into the Mohakali station I was glad to be back just so that I could get off the freakin’ bus with the honking and the swerving and the dirt flying in through the open windows and sticking in my eyes and my teeth.

Now, to find a hotel... I had thought to stay with Kassandra, but since I didn't have her number handy and I hadn't called in advance and I'd just be leaving again pretty much before the sun came up I figured a hotel would be less bother, so went off to find a CNG (those little green machines), the hotel shouldn't be far!