Day 8: Comilla

Saturday :We woke up very early and took a microbus (minivan) to Comilla. After about three hours, we were almost to our first stop, Salim’s parents’ house, when we had a rickshaw incident. Comilla is rickshaw country, and the roads were designed as such. Nonetheless, our driver thought our microbus could just squeeze by the rickshaws coming down the narrow road. He was wrong. As we were passing, a rickshaw and the van became wedged together. The combination of the two completely blocked the road, so after a short while, there were lines in front and behind filled with what seemed to be an angry mob (and rightfully so—they couldn’t get through!). Heather says that the crowds were mad, but not as much as it seemed. At one point, people were picking up the van (with us in it) trying to dislodge the van and the wheel of the rickshaw. The whole thing resolved after about 30 minutes, and they came up with a system for stopping the rickshaws so we could pass down the road.

Salim’s parents live a beautiful U-shaped compound, which is largely empty since all their children live in other parts of the country. They prepared the most delicious tea I have ever tasted. Of course, since I liked it, his mother (picture of her & Salim above) sent me home with some (no complaints here!). They also fed us veggie egg rolls and the sweet that Comilla is famous for—a type of sugared milk soup filled with sugared cheese curd. At least that’s what I think it was. After that, it was off to have lunch at the home of a local physician whom they are trying to involve in their research study. In addition the standard fish and rice, they served sliced papaya. It was the most wonderful thing I have ever tasted (except for dark chocolate…and fresh brewed coffee…mmmm).

We packed back into the microbus and started the drive to Chittagong. It was supposed to be a three hour journey. It ended up being about five hours of bumping up and down and horns honking and the accelerate-then-slam-on-the-brakes type of driving that is so popular here. The trip taught me one thing—dad is on to something when he insists I fill up the gas tank when it is half empty. We stopped at one point to fill up with gas, and after waiting about 15 minutes for our turn, we find out that the electricity has gone out. So, no gas. Luckily, we had enough in the tank to the make it to the next station, but many people were stuck waiting there until the electricity came back on (and you never know when that will be). We did find another gas station, and arrived safely in Chittagong. The city is loud and noisy like Dhaka and the hotel restaurant serves only Thai food. But, it was nice to have a little culinary variety at this point in the trip.