Batch 19 — The Great Sojourn — theNOSTOMANIAC.com

107 - Dhaka & Didion (Dhaka, Bangladesh)

Don’t forget. Remember, remember, and remember. I lamented often my failure to keep a diary on the road to adulthood. (Not sure I ever arrived, but that’s a rabbit for another hole.) What a treasure trove that would’ve yielded years later, much like this blog has done. And it’s not just about nostalgia. A record would contain wisdom only your former self can impart. What have I missed? What have I forgotten? What lessons have I had to learn and relearn? What’s the point of a journey if there’s no documentation, no after-action review? It pains me to consider all the lost memories from trips abroad before this ultimate fandango. I was determined not to make that mistake again…

Bangladesh, Batch 19by Mr. Nos T. O'maniacFebruary 4, 2020Dhaka, Bangladesh

108 - Dhaka to Munshigonj (Southwest Bangladesh)

I inadvertently discovered an effective way of capturing Dhaka’s street chaos—sit in the front of a first-class bus. Seats are elevated above the driver and the windshield is enormous, providing a unique vantage point.

There’s a downside. Had we stopped abruptly or, god forbid, collided with another vehicle, I would’ve done a Superman impression through the windshield. No seatbelts assured this outcome. Just watching events unfold up close was stress-inducing. Much safer (psychologically) to let your mind wander through a window in the rear. It might have been the most exhilarating bus ride I’ve ever had…

Bangladesh, Batch 19by Mr. Nos T. O'maniacFebruary 3, 2020Bangladesh

109 - Munshigonj (Khulna Division, Bangladesh)

Still, there’s something about wandering a city or small town with my head up my confused ass while trying to navigate a foreign culture that adds spice and variety to the experience. I can’t deny the pros may well outweigh the cons, especially in a pinch, but I will mourn the loss of bemusing ambiguity.

So, guesthouse it was. First hurdle surmounted. After agreeing on a label, I had to discuss availability. More confusion. A man called a relevant somebody. I was led to believe (or was I?) a decision-maker would turn up, then invited to secure my pack in an office for safekeeping and provided a chair outside. I sat. I waited. I waited some more…

Bangladesh, Batch 19by Mr. Nos T. O'maniacFebruary 2, 2020Bangladesh, Munshigonj

110 - “F” for Futility (Munshigonj, Bangladesh)

I wandered inside only to be greeted with ‘what the hell do you want’ expressions by Forest Guy One and Forest Guy Two. Confusion reigned. Motorcycle Guy tried to help but fostered, albeit unintentionally, a comedy of errors. When they did grasp my intent, I was asked for a copy of my passport, which I did not have with me. Forest Guy One and Forest Guy Two were not amused. It appeared I’d have to return to the hotel to retrieve it. But then, as if to brush this aside, I was given a price quote—$17 for permit, camera fee, and some other vague tax. Super duper. But then, Forest Guy Two changed his mind. I would have to go to Khulna (two hours away) to get permission…

Bangladesh, Batch 19by Mr. Nos T. O'maniacFebruary 1, 2020Bangladesh, Munshigonj, Sundarbans

111 - Delusional Adventure-Seeking Jackass (Munshigonj, Bangladesh)

I had a better chance of seeing Pegasus than I did a tiger. Were they bored? Annoyed? Scared? All the above? A local I spoke with the day before speculated the threat of pirates might explain my permission difficulties, though nobody I dealt with said anything. After repeated entreaties to turn around, I relented.

On the way back, we stopped at a forest station, which boasted a nature trail into the mangrove. I assumed (emphasis on ass) a jungle walk would ensue. Nope. Too dangerous. A tiger was afoot. Tiger, you say? Too dangerous? According to the resident ranger…

Bangladesh, Batch 19by Mr. Nos T. O'maniacJanuary 31, 2020Bangladesh, Munshigonj

112 - Hill Country (Chittagong Hill Tracts, Bangladesh)

We made a pit stop for food and potty at 3:30 a.m. What I saw in the bathroom left me awestruck—men at every sink primping like contestants on the Dating Game. Not a hair out of place. The efforts were almost surgical. Did I mention it was 3:30 a.m.? And me with my single pair of black pants, dusty hiking shoes, and generalized untidy disheveledness. People often sized me up and down as if I were wearing a spacesuit. I could never tell if it was curiosity, mild contempt, or both.

I loitered in the restaurant where a barefoot waiter offered to bring me something. I went with coffee. It soon followed with my receipt…

Batch 19, Bangladeshby Mr. Nos T. O'maniacJanuary 31, 2020Bangladesh, Chittagong Hill Tracts