Bangladeshis have a greater awareness of local geography than they used to. Years ago it was not uncommon in Dhaka, when I’d say I was headed for Hatiya, for people to reply, ‘Hatiya - Sandwip’, not fully appreciating the two islands are distinct and quite far from each other, notwithstanding that many Hatiyans have Sandwipian ancestry. Years ago in Dhaka my travel plans met with trepidation: people from the islands faced cyclones, those areas were remote. People from the islands were tough and brave. In Hatiya’s case it might be more accurate to use ‘open-hearted’ in place of ‘tough’, but it’s not altogether incorrect to speak of bravery. Think for a moment of the island’s fishermen. Imagine spending up to ten days at sea at a time in small locally-constructed wooden trawlers, hoping the wood is ... read more

Work, shop, eat and sleep Hong Kong. I met you like a distant cousin, a little standoffish but polite, busy with your life and unwilling to entangle in mine; and I didn’t want it either. The first time I said no: I didn’t want to meet you. I was a little scared to see your streets through nothing you were responsible for, so I stood at your edge and turned my back: there were other things to do and you said nothing. You’re the world’s transit lounge, Hong Kong, the city in the middle, the place of comings and goings, so you could wait. It’s not that you don’t have your own character, but I had to look for it, and let it settle like a custard tart. Why shouldn’t you be part of my life? ... read more

The other day in my English class I asked the students to tell me what was bad about living in Dhaka. At the top of the list was traffic jams. One particular evening, when on my way to dinner, I found myself sitting in a rickshaw in the midst of the turmoil of a jam on Satmasjid Road and I thought, "yes, there really is a lot of traffic to complain about." But strangely enough, I like it. In the city of my birth, Sydney, things are much more orderly. There are sometimes traffic jams too but cars wait, for the most part patiently, in long neat queues demarcated by lane lines. People obey traffic lights there. The contrast with Satmasjid Road couldn't be greater: rickshaws squeezed like citrus fruit filling every tiny crevice of roadway, ... read more