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  • Writer's pictureVoita


Yesterday was one of the rare evenings when I snuffed out before eleven, that's how tired I was. Even had me forget to include in the diary the evening stupidity highlight when I gulped down a liter of water and felt viciously sick for ten minutes. Now the list is complete.

"Hello brother
"No bike, thanks
"Bye bye

typical conversation

With hurting feet and my nose running like a broken dam (AC), what was I to do? I wasn't gonna take a bike to drive me around - it's pretty here, but equally pretty here and five miles away. I swore to myself to not go check out the 100 year old tree 4 miles away, but that left me with no goal for the day. Soon, one emerged.

There's only one high rise in the area, at the moment. Just like there's only few jet skis cruising on the water; tourism has reached, funds not quite yet. Bengali middle class is yet to come forth in full power. And since the resort lies to the east of Kuakata, I started circling it and taking pictures from all sides like a journalist investigating a crime.

In the surrounding villages each house seems to have their little mud pool for getting more dirty in the evening and for drowning nosy foreigners. But some crimes are better left unsolved.

"Actually, we don't have a coffee machine. ...but we can mix few nescafes and make it like an americano.

beats all my yesterday's ideas combined

"Sure, let's have it.


Seemed appropriate to pay the edifice a visit, since I spent so much time looking at it. And while the coffee was as bad as it sounds, the servers knew English and didn't ask for a selfie, which instantly ranked the hotel high up on my list. Apparently, their main customers are foreign labourers, such as a Chinese contingent working a nearby nuclear plant. But as with many projects in the area, the hotel opened as soon as possible - once the first few floors were finished. And since then there isn't sufficient cashflow to iron out the higher floors and so they sit there, skelets without windows or guts, with wind sweeping out bird poop and corrosion taking away what has never been.



Neither has there been any sun; I suspect Dhaka is simply too close to allow anything to come through. What a shame and probably one of the reasons why all Bangladesh's best beaches are way south, where I'll start heading tomorrow.

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