Overview

Historically referred to as the ‘Porte Grande’ by the Portuguese and once described as the Bengal Kingdom’s wealthiest city - Chittagong is Bangladesh’s major port to the Indian Ocean and to this day remains its gateway to foreign trade. For tourists, Chittagong is a natural stop for obtaining permits and onward journey to the Chittagong Hill Tracts (‘CHT’).

Source: A History of Bangladesh - Willem Van Schendel

The first Bangladeshi train journey: Dhaka to Chittagong

I was raring to go and excited (as well as slightly apprehensive) to experience the Bangladeshi rail network and my first sites of the CHTs.

Task 1: get to the rail station.

It was the break of dawn as I left my accommodation in Dhaka - I grabbed the first CNG I could see which was just parked outside the entrance to my accommodation. I explained that my destination was Dhaka Kamalapur railway station and, as I had quickly become accustomed to requesting, requested that the meter be used (important to request this if you want to pay a fair fare), placed my backpack in the back of the CNG, and jumped in. Off we went through the already bustling streets of Dhaka. Being so early in the morning, the air was cool and, probably, the time to travel. And what became routine displaying my complete unwarranted distrust of tuk tuk drivers: I opened my Google Maps app on my Moto G3 (which had my Bangladeshi SIM installed), entered the navigation details from the current location to my intended destination - and watched as the blue dot progressed along the route, ensuring we were on track.

As we arrived at the station drop-off point I thought to myself: “made it”. That’s task 1 complete (well task 2 really as the first was to purchase rail tickets which I had arranged the morning before through my accommodation in Dhaka; recommended if your journey is soon after your first arrival into Bangladesh and you’re still in ‘acclimatisation mode’). Now for task 2

Task 2: locate the platform number my train is due to depart from, identify the train carriage, seat, and get on it!

This was more difficult than expected as: (i) all the signs were in Bengali and my Bengali literacy at the time was not up to scratch, (ii) I had a massive backpack on my back which made me stick out like a sore thumb (despite this, a backpack is recommended as the streets of Bangladesh are not the best for wheeled suitcases if you are a solo traveller). Through a lot of asking: “Dada, Chittagong train platform number ta ki?” (brother, which platform number is the Chittagong train?) and with a bit of luck, I managed to locate my platform number. But there was no train, so I asked the person nearest to me: “Dada, eta ki Chittagong train’ner platform?” (brother, is this the platform for the Chittagong train?). The fella reassured me that it was and that, as usual, the train was late - but technically ‘on time’ according to Bangladeshi standards. I thought at point it would be a good idea to get a spot of breakfast. There was a small kiosk selling snacks and coffee on the platform: “jackpot”, I thought to myself. “Ekta coffee please” (one coffee please), I asked the kiosk seller. The coffee isn’t ‘barista’ made; it’s essentially dispensed from a Nescafe machine (they seem to have a monopoly on coffee in Bangladesh) so it’s not exactly the best brew; plus it has, what seems like, 5 spoons of sugar - very sweet! You won’t find your usual Starbucks, nor Costa Coffee on every doorstep, especially given the price of coffee in the UK at £2.70 which is around the same price as a good sit down meal in Bangladesh! So the coffee dispensers do the job nonetheless.

With my little caffeine boost sorted, the train arrived. Now to locate my carriage and seat. I should point out that I booked a first class ticket - yes, not the ‘spiritual’ choice and many travellers will stick their noses up for opting for first class travel, but - first class on Bangladeshi intercity trains is cheaper than standard travel on a local commuter in the UK - and it’s a well known fact that first class travel tends to subsidise ticket prices for standard ticket types, so I felt as though I was doing my bit to help.

Back to locating my carriage and seat and yet another struggle. So again I went to seek assistance and I approached the first person I could see, showed him my ticket and asked in perfect Beng’lish: “Dada, apne ki amara carriage direct korte parbo please?” (Brother, please can you direct me to my carriage?) He directed me to my carriage and kindly pointed out my seat, I said thank you and we went our separate ways. I sat down and observed as passengers filled the carriages and gently located their seats. Once the train departed, I got out my headphones and played one of the many films I had downloaded on my iPhone 6 plus; I was relaxed, had my entertainment to hand, and ready for the 5 hour journey to Chittagong.

10 minutes later, the man who assisted me on the train came up to me. He noticed that the seat next to me was empty and asked if I would mind if he sat next to me. I thought nothing of it and said: “of course, have a seat”. We made some polite conversation which quickly dried up and then I reverted back to the movie.

For the next 4 hours, the man would not stop asking me questions - it seemed like he wanted to know every inch of detail about my life. It started with: “so, where have you come from?”. “What do you do?” “why have you come to Bangladesh?”...”what is the meaning of life?” Ok, he didn’t ask the last one, but the questions evidently became mere fillers of silence - and there was me, pretty content with just watching my movie and minding my own business! He was about to ask me another question and I thought to myself “how you going to get yourself out of this one Amit?” Then, with perfect timing, the catering team arrived to take orders - I asked what the options were, the response was simply: “chicken”. So not much choice then. As I placed my order - Maa’s words echoed in my head: “bara khaibeh sais, oshuk hoibo!” (don’t eat away from restaurant establishments as you will get ill) - then I thought, i’m peckish and what’s the worst that can happen? So I went for it.

Task 3: sample Bangladeshi train cuisine

It wasn’t bad, as train food goes - but extremely spicy! More importantly, during the silence of eating our respective meals - I thought of a good way to maintain the silence. I asked the ‘dude’ if he wanted to share my headphone and watch the movie I was watching. He did and we became engrossed in the movie...but then he started asking me questions about the film, and they just went on and on and on! But, what felt like only an hour into the journey, just like take, we pulled into Chittagong; and we were only 1.5 hours late (that’s good going for Bangladeshi timekeeping). Looking back, although slightly irritating, that guy did help the time go very quickly. In-terms of the train itself it was very comfortable - very similar to the trains I had taken in India on my previous travels. However, I would recommend taking a jumper, hoodie, or shawl as the AC can get as cold as the arctic at times!

Task 4: arrive in Chittagong and get to accommodation

I had arrived into Chittagong. Now to get to my accommodation. The ‘dude’ insisted in finding a CNG for me. We found one and I explained to the driver what the name of my accommodation was - he indicated that he knew where we were going, but from his reaction, it was clear to me that he didn’t have a clue. So, per protocol, I asked for the meter to be activated and whipped out the Moto G3, opened the Google Maps app, keyed in the destination and observed where he was taking me. We got to the very first junction, literally 300m from where we set off and he started to explain that there was, apparently, better accommodation to the left. I had read about these in the Bradt Travel guide and it was recommended that these places be avoided. I explained that I have already booked my hotel. He then tried to convince me that the accommodation I had booked, didn’t exist - so I took charge and directed the driver where to go. Throughout the whole journey of 15 minutes or so he was trying to persuade me to reconsider, but I just ignored him. This was the most frustrating journey of my travels thus far.

Finally, we arrived at the hotel,he looked a bit shocked that I was able to direct him there. I paid the fair on the meter and was now fully relaxed.

Permits for Chittagong Hill Tracts (‘CHT’)

Day two, the main objective of day two was to get to the central court house, in order to apply for permits to enter the CHT at the District Commissioner’s (‘DC’) office. The central courthouse, to my surprise, turned out to be a beautiful colonial era red brick palace of a building with many corridors and many floors - but the District Commissioner’s (‘DC’) Office was well signed posted. The DC’s assistant was polite and showed me where to sit and handed me the permit application form to fill - I had my passport photo ready to attach with my application and my passport ready for inspection. Also waiting was a Polish traveller who had been travelling around India for many months prior. I asked him: “why Bangladesh”, immediately conscious that I sounded just like the ‘dude’ on the train - he replied: “just, it was close by and thought I would come. It’s not advertised as a tourist destination but the people here are amazing and so friendly”. We compared our onward plans and they seemed to match up somewhat - except for his Bandarban accommodation which he had not booked - so I suggested mine.

One hour after arriving at the DC’s waiting room I was called. It was supposed to be a mini interview, but in reality the DC just asked how I was, whether I was enjoying my stay; he thanked me for visiting and signed off my application - the sign off process was pretty quick.

I was just leaving and then the first tip request of my trip came from the DC’s assistant: “Sir, please give tip” he requested as politely as possible as I was exiting the waiting room. I looked at him, thought about my next move momentarily - then handed him 20 taka. He seemed appreciative and I was on my way.

I reflected as I walked towards the CNG waiting outside in the shadow of the grand and beautiful courthouse: “did I do the right thing there?” I think I did. I doubt the assistant gets much in terms of a wage, especially in comparison to the DC and I could see he was working very hard to make us welcome, chase the DC for us, get the forms signed off in a reasonable time period (to Bangladeshi standards). Yes, definitely did the right thing.

With permit in hand - all that was left for me in Chittagong was to get back to the hotel, collect my backpack, check out, and catch a bus to my next destination: Rangamati, in the CHT