Bangladesh

Fully re-installed in the Bangkok apartment now, and happy to share my experiences in Bangladesh with you all. One disaster - I took loads of photos and video using my spare phone, which is old and has no USB connection and no Bluetooth, so currently I have no way of sharing those images with you, unless you care to get on a plane and fly 6000 miles to gather round my mobile...

Actually I do have a method for offloading the images but it involves using an equally ancient laptop which is at home in New Mills. It has an IR port ("What's that?" I hear you all say. "Look it up", I answer smugly). I knew I kept it for something. I'll do that during my Christmas hols - hold me to it, as my hero Gideon Coe is fond of saying.

I realised my mistake half way through the trip, and began using my normal phone, but to be honest the best part was flying into Bibiyana on a seaplane, landing on the river, jumping onto a speedboat and hurtling upstream for half an hour, to arrive at the creaking wooden jetty windswept and exhilarated like a proper Cadburys Milk Tray delivery man.

Meanwhile here's some rather dull anecdotes:

I flew business class - what a breath of fresh air that is, even if it makes my inner blue-collar, union-card-holding, all-men-are-equal-but-we-hate-rich-people self squirm with embarrassment every time I bypass a perfectly decent queue (full of potential blog victims) and get whisked onto the plane like I mean more than they do.

On landing at Dhaka, which by reputation is an overcrowded, foul-smelling, beggar-infested dump, we were picked up in a Chevron car - gigantic and air conditioned of course - and driven to the domestic airport for our onward flight to Bibiyana. The domestic airport turns out to be next door to the International Airport, so what the car was for I don't know. By the time the driver managed to manoeuver through the traffic, running over several tramps on the way, we could have walked the 100 metres door to door and still had time for that special me-next-to-the-soldier-with-the-ancient-rifle photo opportunity. Anyway, we were escorted through the tatty departure lounge straight onto the tarmac where our plane waited - wonder of wonders, a six-seater seaplane. I was so far beside myself I noticed I needed a shave. We took photos of the plane but they won't appear here till Christmas.

Landing on the water near the plant was very cool. It was a lovely sunny day and the river was dead flat. Millions of local farm kids appeared as we moored up at the bank to await the arrival of our boat. The plane doesn't often get used so it's all a bit of a novelty to the locals. The plant is in the north-east of Bangladesh in a very rural area with nothing but rice paddies for miles around. As I tell this I'm getting more and more annoyed that I can't show the photo's I took. In fact I just spent a few mins looking for a USB/Infra Red adapter on Ebay. Found one for £5.99 - result! Meanwhile back in the rice paddies, the speedboat turned up half an hour later, laden with one of the plant bosses' wife and kids, who were flying back to Dhaka on the same plane. Now we knew why we'd been put on a plane and not made to spend 6 hours bumping along the crappy roads to get there. Lucky us. The "Oilies" at the plant later gave horrifying descriptions of the road trip, which made us feel very special.

We were most impressed with the weather - apparently December and January are the best months in Bangladesh, cooler and drier than normal. It was about 28 detgrees and very sunny, but not uncomfortable due to the low humidity. All in all a very nice place to spend a few days. On arrival at the plant we were shown to our rooms, which could have been in any reasonably good hotel. One room per guest, containing TWO double beds and a nice clean bathroom. Cable telly of course. I have photos but we haven't yet arrived at the time when I changed phones.

On day three we took a trip out to the two remote facilities, which are both set in the hills about 50km from Bibiyana. We had to go through the nearest city, Sylhet, to get there, but what a treat the journey turned out to be. Tea plantations surround both plants - here's some photo's that don't do them justice:Tea-ladies Bangla style.

Tea, tea all around but not a drop to drink.

The place was simply beautiful. What a way to spend a working day. We did actually get some work done at the plant, and I managed to persuade the locals that I can actually fix things, by solving a few minor bugs for them, which they'd been struggling with for weeks, bless 'em. That helped to build trust so that we can continue to be their engineers-of-choice in the future. I also managed to impress my boss, who was with me, that I can walk the walk and not just talk the talk. A good day all round.

"If the world is ever given an enema, it will be delivered via Sylhet". And yes those are cows in the road.

Next day we flew - yes, flew, back to Dhaka. Unfortunately not on the sea-plane. This time we were driven the 40km to "Sylhet International Airport" which is a grand name for such a small place. Ah well, at least we once again avoided the road trip. One night in Dhaka was enough for me. The hotel was comfy enough, but one line on the room description gave a clue as to what there is to do and see in Dhaka - it says "With stunning views of the airport runway". I kid you not.

Our flight back to Bangkok was once again business class, and I was in good cheer. I was amused to discover we had an Asian pilot, when he made the customary patronising mid-flight speech. Talk of "Cluising at 36000 feet" and "Randing on the Lunway on time" made me snigger. Yes I know, not big not clever.

That's about all really. I ate a lot and subsequently made yet another resolution to get fitter/lose weight. In fact yesterday I joined another Gym, but that's another story and I'm fed up typing.

Later taters.

Oh by the way - the ironing board and iron I mentioned before going away were strategically left out as a gentle hint to my cleaner lady. When I got back they have been put away (I don't know where) and everything I own has been ironed. Aint life sweet.