Sweden really was a great experience, and a nice hiatus in the middle of my journey.
My visit here was lengthened a little because of the sickness, but I’m headed to Morocco to meet up with the Pauls shortly.

Thomas and I got to see a little of the city before we headed out to the island. This is what Old Stockholm looks like:

On Friday, I headed out the the island. Of course, even as we were arriving, the family was already engaged in some fixing-by-committee:

We set up the may pole and had a wonderful Midsummer lunch.

For dinner, the Americans were responsible for making hamburgers and s’mores. Most of the ingredients were brought on the airplane in two giant suitcases.

Ludde managed to pull in the big pike, a fish that wikipedia insists is essentially inedible, though we consider it a delicacy.

On Saturday we threw a little birthday party for Dad and Maria:

Alfred and Cornelea:

And an obligatory Kubb picture:

After we got back to Stockholm, I took it pretty easy. On Wednesday we went to Solvalla, the cart-race track, to watch my cousin Louise compete.
She was the heavy favorite at the start, maybe with the help of all of us bidding her up.

Almost the whole extended family made it out to cheer, even though there was a Euro2008 Semi-final on that night!

The horses behind the pace car:

In first place:

And the final stretch:

Unfortunately, this is right about where horse 2 picks up steam and ends up winning. Louise got 2nd place though, which is a pretty great accomplishment.

Another shot of Stockholm:

And a gorgeous sunset (taken at about 11:30pm):

I got up early, once again, to take the train to Agra. It was absolutely amazing how packed the train station was, even at 5:30 in the morning. The train ride was quick and pleasant, by 8am I had arrived in Agra.

I had intended on leaving my bags at the cloak room in the Delhi station, but the line was incredibly long, so I decided I’d wait till I got to Agra, hoping there was a cloak room there. Sure enough, I found the cloak room. Another traveler was waiting for it to open at 8:30, we decided we’d split a cab to the Taj, I thought it’d be pretty interesting to have someone to travel with. But they didn’t let him check his bags, because he didn’t have locks on it. I had read in the guidebook that you should “make sure your bags have locks” and had also been told this by the guy who helped me book my train tickets. Of course, I figured that was only a precaution, that it had to do with people pilfering stuff out of the bags even while they were safely stored. It turned out that this was just the policy. Bags have to be locked. He tried to argue, insisting that he just had dirty clothes and that if someone wanted them, they could just take them. But rules are rules (in a country that I thought didn’t seem to have any law or order). I was glad that I did have locks on both of my bags (even the cloth one that tied with a string). My new friend got sent out to buy locks or figure something else out, so by the time I had signed my things in, he was nowhere to be found. I headed out to the taxi stand, figuring that the pre-paid option was going to be the best. I ended up hiring a cab for the day, which would take me to the Taj, Agra Fort, and the “Baby Taj”, then to the riverbank to watch the sunset over the Taj. It sounded like a good deal, so I went ahead and took the offer. I got in the car with the driver and a guide. Both were very friendly, though the driver didn’t speak much English. The guide told me a little about the history of the Taj, and gave me plenty of warnings not to accept anything from anyone, to be careful of my possessions, and not to feel pressured into buying anything.

I walked down the road toward the Taj, bought my ticket, and entered the complex. The first thing I saw was a spectacular red sandstone entrance gate.

The complex was just truly spectacular. Seeing it in pictures and movies didn’t prepare me for just how incredible it was going to be.

I’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves:

I spent a few hours just walking around, absorbing the place. I would probably have spent more time there if I’d been traveling with others, but as it was, I figured it was time to move on. When I left, the line to go through the security screening was immense. My recommendation: get there as early as you can!

From there, the car took me to the “Baby Taj” which was the tomb of Ittimad ad-Daulah, the father of Shah Jahan, the builder of the Taj Mahal. This one is called the Baby Taj because the design was the inspiration for its bigger counterpart. Though smaller, the marble work is extremely intricate and truly amazing.

Then, the tourist trapping started. My guide assured me that he was taking me to a marble factory, where I could see how marble was hand made, by the same family that had done work on the Taj. This is exactly what I dreaded the most about tourist places. We got forced/lured into the same types of things in Egypt, whether it was someone’s “Perfume Factory” or “Carpet Museum” or “Art Gallery (papyrus shop)” Well, first I was shown the magic of how the marble was made. Not altogether uninteresting, but not what I came to Argra for, and I certainly didn’t appreciate being forced to go. The guy started the sales pitch. The smallest marble tabletop he showed me (about 5 inches or so) started at $340. “Well, this is going to be too heavy. No thanks.” I said and got up to walk away. Well, he was prepared for that one “We’ll ship it to you. Shipping cost is included.” So, I left through the door I walked in, despite his warnings that “The exit is over here!” I opened the door into the “museum” only to see another flustered-looking tourist getting put through the paces. I got in the taxi and firmly demanded to be taken to Agra Fort right away. “Ok, but we have to go to another factory first.” I insisted on going to the Fort, and my guide told me that the visits to these shops are “part of the package”. He explains that each place gives him a receipt that he was there, which he then has to give to the police who run the prepaid taxi stand. After the next place, a really upscale place where I was persecuted by salespeople at every turn (”Sir, can I sell you something?” “NO.” “Sir, what are you looking to buy today?” “Nothing at all.”) he showed me the receipt. He claimed that this was all for my own good, that he was taking me to “government approved places” and that if he didn’t take me there and bring back these receipts, the police would start getting on his case about where he had been taking his tourists. I don’t know if he was just making that story up, or whether it really is a racket that the police are involved with. Either story is completely plausible. Either way, I’m sure that the guide gets a kickback of whatever I would have bought.

After another approved shop, we finally headed towards Agra Fort. He kept trying to get me to take lunch, but I really wasn’t hungry and my stomach was hurting. Of course, as we got to Agra Fort, it started raining. We waited it out in the car for about 10 minutes, then I decided to just head out anyway. It was pretty hot, so the rain wasn’t unpleasant. I really tried to spend as much time in the fort as possible: At this point it was about 2pm, and my train didn’t leave till 8:30. The fort was really spectacular. It had a lot in common with the Red Fort in Delhi, but this was even more ornate.

The pulpit where the Shah held audiences, with a view of the Jamuna River:

There were views of the Taj from everywhere:

And then some parts that actually looked more Fort than palace:

I thought this was pretty neat, what looked like a giant well, but was actually a ventilation tube to the underground chambers below:

The view down the well. (I couldn’t help but think of the scene from the movie 300. “This. Is. Agra!”)

At that point, I was resolute about my gameplan for the rest of the day. I was going to tell the guide that I wanted to buy some water and an ice cream, find an ATM, buy some post cards, and visit the post office. Well, I got in the car, got the ice cream and water, and took me to the ATM. Then he took me to a shop of embroidery. Except, they didn’t actually explain how the embroidery was done, and it turned out to actually be a jewelery shop! Then we went to a curio shop, then a carpet maker. At the curio shop, I managed to find a few postcards and stamps. The carpet making was actually kind of neat, and I talked the guy out of actually showing me his wares, assuring him that I really wasn’t going to buy them anyway.

The guide was still pressing me to get some food, I told him to take me to a coffee shop. He took me to an empty restaurant. I said no. He took me to another empty restaurant, this one a bit nicer. It looked clean, so I figured this would give me a chance to write my post cards and keep my journal updated. I ordered a coffee, and took a look at the menu. The fresh coconut ice cream caught my eye. “Sorry, we don’t have any.” You know what would be great? Is if restaurants told you what they could sell you. Like, maybe printed up a list of things they had, and maybe even put some prices on it for convenience…
How many times have I been to restaurants when traveling where they just didn’t have the first 10 things I ordered? I mean, what is the point of a menu? Here’s a list of things that would be really delicious. You can think about how delicious they would have been while you eat something else. Anyway, he told me that they had the regular flavors, so I ordered some strawberry. I started writing post cards, and then out of the corner of my eye I see a guy walk into the restaurant, into the kitchen, holding a plastic bag containing… two tubs of strawberry icecream bought at the mart around the corner. Sigh.
One of my sets of stamps didn’t work. They just wouldn’t stick to the post card no matter how hard I tried. At that point, the guide and the driver came in and sat down. I complained about the stamp that his croney had sold me, so he brought over a waiter who first tried a glass of water, then went and got some superglue and glued the stamp on.

Then I said I wanted to go to a bookshop to pick up some reading for the long airport waits and flights I had coming up. It took about ten tries to explain that I didn’t want a tourism book, just a regular book. Ok he says, no problem. And takes me right to the tourist shop next door. Among the tourism books, I did manage to find some Indian literature, so I bought that. Then he took me next door to “his brother’s shop”. This was another jewelery shop. He showed me a string of large pearls. Only problem was they were clearly plastic. They had the typical “equatorial line” where the mold plates would have joined and the little dots where the plastic would have been injected into the mold. How much for that? Only $50!!!! I knew I had lots of time to kill, so I spent lots of time in there looking at stuff I had no intention of buying. He claimed he’d just come in from Dhaka, for the cricket match. Well, I produced my VVIP ticket stub from my back pocket. He was unable to do the same. Some fan…

Then my guide took me to the last tourist shop, this time the Uttar Pradesh Official Government shop. The first guy sat me down and showed me a bunch of silks of extremely poor quality. Then he gave up and another salesman “the artist” came over and showed me his silk-screen drawings. These were actually not half bad. He started at 1200 Rs. I tell him I can’t afford it. He drops down to 800 quickly. I tell him I’m really not in a position to buy anything, I have to pay the taxi, get a rail ticket, get another taxi to the airport. I just don’t have the money. He asks me how much I do have, I refuse to name a price, claiming that I don’t want to offend him with some lowball offer. Thinking of saying 100 Rs. He drops to 500. I still tell him I can’t, he goes to 450. “I’m not even negotiating with you! I really just can’t afford it!” Eventually drops to 250. Still sit there stonefaced. I get up, tell him I really cant, and he shouts 200! as I’m walking out. That marks my best haggling to date. Usually, my goal is to get to 1/4 of the first asking price. I know that that’s even usually more than it’s worth. Plus, it’s not like the guy is going to sell something for a loss. So I never feel guilty about underpaying. I guess it really proves that the ultimate negotiation strategy is to act like you don’t want it. Or, in this case, to not want it.

They finally take me back to the railway station. My train arrives right at 8:30. At that point I try to figure out which car I’m in. My ticket says E1, but none of the electronic signs on the platform say E1. I go all the way to the front of the train, where the conductor tells me E1 is at the other end. So I start jogging to the other end, and the train starts rolling away!! So I start running alongside it, and in a Darjeeling Limited moment I had to jump aboard the moving train!

This post is a long time coming. First of all, the computer I’m on doesn’t want to let me upload pictures, so it took me a while to find a workaround. Second, I seem to have come down with Salmonella in Bangladesh, so give me a break!

On Friday we woke up early to get to the bus station. I knew it was going to be a long trip, so I just prepared myself.
After about 3 hours, we came to a river crossing. Since there’s no bridge, we spent about half an hour in line to get a ferry.

That served as a bathroom break, so I walked around the ferry. It was crazy to see people selling all kinds of things, from newspapers to bananas to household items, right on the ferry, just like any street market.

At about 3pm, we arrived somewhere and a whole lot of people started getting off the bus. It wasn’t like a border post or anything, it was just some city that looked like all the other Bangladeshi cities I’d been to. Eventually though, I was the only one on the bus. So I figured it was time to get off. I tried asking whether we had arrived in Benapole, but I was thoroughly confused. Eventually I figured out that, yes, this was the end of the line on the Bangladeshi side. Not having any clue what was going on, and unable to find anyone that spoke English, I figured I’d just wait around and someone would tell me where to go or what to do.
I saw our baggage being loaded onto sophisticated baggage carts:

I was eventually directed to get into a microbus that took us down the road a little ways and to another bus office. I got out, sat down, once again figuring that someone would tell me what to do. After a little while, someone came over and directed me to an office across the street. I went to one building to pay the exit tax, then went to another to drop off my passport and embarkation slip, then was told to go to another to wait. They came back with my passport, I exchanged my remaining Taka to Rupees (no clue what kind of an exchange rate I got there) then walked across the border. The Indian official seemed to take an awful long time inspecting not only my Indian visa, but my Bangladeshi one, and my other entrance/exit stamps. Not sure what he was looking for, but eventually he decided it was good enough.

On the Indian side, I had to visit another several offices to clear immigration and customs. The customs officer asked me what was in my bag. I told him it was my suit and shirts, and that was good enough for him.

The border:

Then I went to yet another bus office to wait. I had to pay another 120 Rupees. It turns out that the fare I paid only got me as far as the border. To get to Kolkata, I’d have to pay the Indian company. No big deal, but it would have been nice to know. What if I didn’t have any cash on me? ATMs certainly weren’t available. Eventually we got on the bus and were on our way to Kolkata.

Even though I had a map, and thought I had a pretty good idea of where I was and where the hostel I was looking for was, I walked in circles for a long time. One of the first differences I noticed was the abundance of touts following me around telling me where I could find a good hotel. I eventually found Hotel Maria, even though it wasn’t really located on the street it was supposed to be on. I managed to get “the last room” (I found out that there were dorm beds available, which I should have chosen, but oh well.) My single room, up on the roof, wasn’t much, but at least it was a bed. And it was a good thing I had my travel sheet.

There was a table and chairs up on the rooftop, and when I arrived it was filled with european backpackers from every imaginable country. It was really fascinating talking to them and hearing where they had come from and where they were headed.

I was sort of worried about my ability to wake up in the morning to catch my early flight to Delhi, since the only alarm I had was the one on my 1980s Casio watch I bought in New Market in Dhaka. I woke up just fine, and got to brush my teeth on the rooftop with a great view of Kolkata. One of the backpackers said it was his favorite Indian city, so I really wish I’d gotten to spend more time there.

I flew into Delhi with Jet Airways, a new low-cost provider that even has service to the U.S. It was a great airline that I’d eagerly recommend. From the airport, I grabbed a pre-paid taxi to the Railroad station, which was adjacent to the hotel I was looking for.

I walked down a crowded market street (the Main Bazaar) to the hotel. Most of the stuff for sale seemed to be targeted towards tourists, but I saw mainly Indians and very few foreigners. I eventually found Hotel Rak International. A very clean place with a friendly staff. They showed me a room, more expensive than Kolkata, but this one did have a bathroom. I dropped off my stuff and headed into town. I went back to the rail station to book my ticket to Agra for the next day. I got the last seats in either direction on the train I wanted, so that was pretty lucky.

I kept walking through the streets of Old Delhi and all of a sudden the narrow, winding streets just ended at the national Mosque.

Entering the Mosque was truly amazing. All of the din, dust, and bustle was just stopped at the gates. Inside was calm and quiet.

I sat for a while and just absorbed the scene. Afterwards, I walked onward to the Red Fort.

The grounds inside the fort were truly spectacular. Well-kept and well-preserved, I can’t even imagine how it looked in its glory days.

After the fort I continued my walk around the city. I was continually amazed by how the city has grown up around the old structures and monuments.

An old city gate, preserved right in the middle of the activity of the modern city:

The old city wall, built by the British:

And another old gate:

And since I know you’re all dying to see pictures of the Taj, here’s a little preview:

Day 12:
We rested after getting back early in the morning with the night bus from Cox’s.
We went to Nando’s for lunch, a South African restaurant with excellent chicken sandwiches.

Went and bought my bus ticket to Kolkata, I’ll leave on the morning of the 13th, and after about 13 hours end up in India.
Pretty amazing that I can get a ticket to a different country for less than $10. They didn’t even check to make sure I had a passport or visa. I guess they figure that’s my problem once I get to the border.

While Donny went to an orientation session for the new students in the language program he participated in, I took the opportunity to visit the liberation war museum. It was a fascinating museum; even after reading Donny’s blog and hearing him tell about the country’s history, I couldn’t really understand the importance of it until now. It seems like a huge part of history that’s overlooked too often.

I took the bus across town to visit Donny. This was my first foray without him doing the talking, so I was a bit nervous. The bus system isn’t exactly straightforward. I got to the bus stand, asked a guy for the right bus line. I got lucky because the guy I asked was the ticket seller for the correct line, so I got my ticket and waited. When I was on the bus I just asked the guy next to me where Gulshan 1 was, and he kept telling me “not yet” with hand gestures. While waiting for Donny I watched India v. Pakistan on a tv in a mall; it seemed to be the popular thing to do.

Donny took me to Time Out, where I got to try a salty and spicy mango drink, and Bangladesh’s take on Mexican food. Afterwards, we tried some Paan. I expected it to be sort of like Snus (the Swedish version of dip) but it was nothing like that. Donny has the pictures from this experience, so you’ll have to check his blog in the coming week to see what that was like.

A view across the lake in Gulshan 1:

Day 13:
For lunch Donny had me try Biryani, a dish made with rice and ghee, with chicken in the middle. This was probably my favorite Bangladeshi dish I’ve tasted since being here. I also tried Bourhani, another salty/spicy drink, this time made with yoghurt.

We went to the tailor to pick up our shirts and suits. The shirts looked phenomenal and the suit jacket fit great. Granted, the hot, sweaty tailor’s shop is not the ideal place to be trying on suits, but the material felt light and airy. I’m pretty thrilled with how it turned out; my biggest concern now is how to take it with me!

While at the tailor’s shop, we wanted to get a beach shirt made out of a light woven fabric that Donny had seen earlier. We wanted some wooden buttons for the shirts, but the tailor didn’t have any. So his assistant led us through a maze of shops across the street to the button district. Every button, every style… it was pretty overwhelming. We found some that we thought would look good, bought them, and headed back to the shop.

As if that wasn’t enough of a market experience, I told Donny I was interested in finding a straight razor. I really put him through his paces in Bengali, there was endless misunderstanding about what kind of razor we were actually looking for. We saw everything from Mach 3s to some crazy Chinese-made thing that looked like it would take your nose off. With our luck and patience running out, we gave up and headed over to Aaron’s house. He was having a get together since it was his last day in Bangladesh after a year here. We had dinner at the International Club. That was another interesting view into the ex-pat life. I’m not sure how often these ex-pats associate with each other, but I can’t imagine spending all my time in a place like that if I had the opportunity to live in a foreign country.

Day 14:
The morning was spent making plans for India.
I have a flight out of Delhi on the 16th, and arrive in Kolkata on the evening of the 13th. My main goal is to see the Taj. I was able to book a plane ticket from Kolkata to Delhi, leaving on the morning of the 14th. I’ll spend the day in Delhi, then take an early train to Agra on the 15th, tour Agra, then get a train back that evening, and head straight to the airport for my 5am flight to Stockholm.

After getting that sorted out, Donny and I headed to the cricket game!
On the way there, we passed by the Grameen bank. This photo is especially for Jeff:

This is the bank’s headquarters. Donny and I actually saw a local branch in the north on the way from Joypur Hat to Bogra, but passed by too quickly to grab a photo.

This game, Bangladesh vs. India, was part of the tri-nation series, hosted in Bangladesh this year.

One of Donny’s friends who we were watching the game with had a friend who worked for the Bangladesh Cricket Board. At the end of halftime, he came and found us, and led us over to the VVIP section! This section is so exclusive that we had to go outside the stadium, walk around, and walk past several levels of security. Lucky for us, we literally got to walk past those security guys.

The view from our new seats:

The game was fascinating. I thought it would be way too long (I already think football could be a bit shorter) but the 7 or so hours just flew by! We stayed till the end, unfortunately Bangladesh was outclassed and ended up losing by 7 wickets.

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to update the blog when I’m in India, but I’ll certainly write all about it once I get to Stockholm!

Day 10:
Donny and I got up early and skipped breakfast because we had to catch an early bus from Rangamati to Cox’s Bazar. Well, as we were waiting for the bus (the “bus stop” is wherever you stand along the route and wave your ticket in the air) who do we see, but the manager of the hotel, once again asking us why we didn’t eat breakfast at the hotel! Again, he wasn’t convinced that our early bus would prevent us and tried to get us to come with him anyway.

We hopped on the bus to Chittagong, took a rickshaw across town to another bus station to get on a bus for Cox’s Bazar. The town initially had the feel of a very touristy place, as soon as we stepped off the bus, touts were trying to convince us to go to some hotel or other. We already had our room reservations, so we checked into our hotel and headed down to the beach. We were the only people swimming as far as the eye could see, so we ended up drawing a few spectators.

Then we walked down the beach to the most popular area, filled with chaise lounges, beach umbrellas, and Bangladeshis dipping their feet in the water.

We headed back towards the hotel and tried to watch a sunset that ended up being obscured by the clouds.

After showering off, we headed to dinner at the much-lauded Mermaid Cafe. Ben had warned us about the procedure, and that was a good thing. The rickshaw pulled up at a place where the signs pointed, and we started walking. Then a guy came running down the beach asking us if we were looking for the Mermaid Cafe. We followed him down a torch lit path in the sand and over some bamboo bridges until we got to the cafe.

We’d been told not to expect much from the food, so we didn’t. The ambiance was absolutely amazing.

We each ordered a pasta dish, Donny’s with crab and mine with fresh calamari caught off the coast of St. Martin’s Island. Before the food came, we got a personal tour of the complex. An old guest house had been turned into an art gallery for a Dhaka artist. A pretty neat concept; showcases local (well, national) art, and gives the patrons something to do while waiting for the food. Our server even took us inside the kitchen. This was pretty interesting because Donny and I had just been talking about what kind of sanitation rating these places we were eating at would get in the U.S. Well, this kitchen was actually very clean. Three young guys working in the kitchen (all looked younger than us, even the head chef). I think even Gordon Ramsay wouldn’t have had too much to say here.

The pasta came and it was absolutely amazing. Homemade pasta, fresh seafood, great atmosphere, and an enthusiastic wait staff. This is exactly the kind of place that could grow the tourism industry in Bangladesh. After we finished our main course, the rain started coming so we sat under the pagoda and waited for our crepe dessert.

A real gecko decided to lend a hand to the beach feel:

Day 11:
We woke up to the sound of a steady rain. This seemed unusual, because up until now most of the rain had been a powerful burst that lasted less than an hour. So, we donned our swim suits and quick-dry shirts and headed to the docks to catch a boat to a nearby island. After paying a toll to use the dock, then another toll to walk across some boats arranged in the mud during low tide, we got to a speedboat that took us across to the island.

Walking across the boats:

All the fishing/transport boats had a very pirate-ship feel:

We didn’t really know what to expect on the island, except that there was a Buddhist stupa on the top of a hill. We ended up getting a tour of a Buddhist monastery, then heading up to the top of the hill where there was a Hindu temple and the stupa.

Monastery:

We got some great views from on top of the hills.

We walked to the end of a jetty, from which we could see the dock back to Cox’s Bazar, and another dock on the other side. We wanted to catch a row boat to the other dock, then walk back along the ridge of the sea-side cliffs:

The oarsman and the rickshaw-wallah both warned us that the people who live over there are “bad people” and wouldn’t like it if people they didn’t know came to their side of the island. JUST LIKE THE OTHERS!
So, we heeded their warning and took the row boat back to the dock, and headed back to Cox’s. We went down to the beach; this time there were tons of people on the beach, and lots of boys playing in the water.

Me on the longest beach in the world:

The day before we had seen some cliffs in the distance, so we decided to see if we could get to them. We walked down the beach a good ways, then wound through a village until we found some stairs dug into a mud cliff face. We ascended, and ended up on some livestock trails at the top of the cliffs. This was an amazing sight. On one side, we saw the jungle village life, on the other, multi story hotels being built along the beach.

We headed back to the hotel, packed up, and grabbed some dinner before it was time to head to the bus station. The bus company called us and told us that the bus was leaving an hour later, so we had some extra time to kill. We sat in the bus station and I taught Donny how to play Shed, a good two player card game.