Cruising
No, this cruise wasn't a switch or an indicator light on the steering wheel or dashboard. Neither was it a luxurious life on the ocean, surrounded by hundreds of wealthy vacationers indulging in fine wine and fancy banquets. If my bunk mattress had been just a smidgen more substantial, and if the younger boys had been able to lower the decibel volume just a bit at times I couldn't think of a thing that would have improved the BD river cruise from Khulna to the Sunderban.
Here's an aside for the angst-smitten among us who really want a good handle on how to say things and to know what those things mean. I note that Sunderban is actually pronounced with an initial sh sound, as is true for many s spellings in Bangla. Also, the first u is pronounced like the oo in look. Ban is, of course, pronounced as the a is always pronounced by international pronunciation rules--like ah. All together now . . . Shoonderbahn.
Another perplexity I encountered is that at times the article "the" was present before "Sunderban" and at other times it was missing, and an s was attached at the end. How can it be both singular and plural? One possible answer is that a very large Sunderban area in southern Bangladesh is government land, but this is divided into three separate areas, roughly equal in size and shape, and easily designated as a western, eastern, or central region. I'm not sure what (besides location) distinguishes each area except that I learned from our guide that the western part has far more sea water infiltration, so the mangrove trees--the signature feature of the Sunderbans--are much smaller and less vigorous. And for those angst-smitten readers who noted that I omitted many needful quotation marks above, I apologize--sort of. Feeling lazy. Back to cruising.
I've never been on the water much. Several short rides in small boats over my lifetime pretty much covers my experience. The river cruise was deliciously "other."
At first, since our departure point was from a sizable city, we saw many other boats docked nearby or moving in either direction alongside our own Chuuti. Some were small open boats with their pointy prows and sterns rising high above the water. Sometimes they were apparently functioning as ferries, full of people, all standing during the crossing--in the dark, silhouetted against the water and the sky. Others were likely fishing boats, and still others were probably being used to transport goods from farm to market or from city to home.
Some boats were much larger than ours--"ships" is surely the right word. Some of these carried passengers too, but most of them were transport vessels--many of them probably ocean-going ships that had sailed inland on one of Bangladesh's great rivers. Our captain steered expertly between them all.
Our cruise ship was apparently freshly painted for the beginning of the main tourist season in the Sunderban. It had only 20 bunks for passengers. In our group, made up of five families, plus Christy and me, there were 26 people. Double-bunking and floor mats provided sleeping space for all the children. A gathering room at one end of the ship offered space to play games, eat, and socialize. The top deck was available for that also when the weather permitted.
The routines of moving about--or not--on the water soon became familiar. In our ship the anchor was lowered when we "parked" and raised before we began to move. The engine was fired up whenever the anchor came up. A bell sounded before the ship began moving. At night a generator powered lights and fans. Movement over the water was normally smooth and restful. The coast line slid away--sometimes much closer on one side than the other. Green--all of it, except where villages and buildings and farm animals appeared--and then, later, in the Sunderban, when wild animals presented themselves.
The banks revealed a lot of tide influence, with a six-foot water-level difference which appeared at low tide. Many, many smaller creeks and streams emptied into "our" river, and at times our boat appeared to turn aside into a different channel, although it was not always easy to identify the main channel. Our outbound destination was the mouth of the river we were traversing--at the Bay of Bengal.
In an earlier post I referred to a storm in the Bay of Bengal that was taking shape before we ever left Dhaka. At that point reports said that the storm would likely soon be named, as cyclones always are (and hurricanes, their counterparts in other parts of the world). It sounded ominous, and we wondered if our trip would occur as planned, but we proceeded in faith. That turned out to be a good course of action. The storm never did strengthen to cyclone status, although it did pack a good punch. It made landfall about 850 kilometers from where we were, so we were spared the worst of the weather drama. Besides getting rain-soaked quite a lot, and besides feeling a little vulnerable when the wind and waves came up while we were anchored very close to the Bay--and besides not being able to loll about on the top deck, we mostly experienced the cruise we expected. When we left the Bay, the motion of the boat was less smooth than at any other time--but nowhere close to triggering sea-sickness, for me at least.
Those cruise banquets? We had all the good food minus any accompanying drama, except for a few over-eager little boys whose determined early entrance into the serving line and whose big scoops of rice overshot the edge of the plate and had to be plucked off the floor so as not to be tracked elsewhere.
An on-board cook must have been kept busy in the kitchen. The great cooking smells drifted up from the hold below, and we heard the occasional chopping, stirring, sizzling noises that normally accompany food preparation.
I ate fresh water chestnuts for the first time. And guava, sliced into apple-like wedges and served with salt. Also, milk from green coconuts. These were prepared in time for the returning boaters who had been out a long time in the rain. A thin slice from the bottom allowed the coconuts to sit squarely on a flat surface. A bigger slice across the top exposed the center cavity. A straw was stuck into this cavity, and our container-drink combination was ready.
We had three good meals every day, and mid-morning and mid-afternoon snacks. Hot coffee and tea were always available. I lost track of many of the names of foods we ate, but it was all delicious. I'm hoping that H will have time to send me a list of the foods we ate so that I can mark them in my Bangladesh cookbook and try them again some time.
We left Dhaka early on Wednesday morning and returned early on the following Monday. During that time the weather had cooled off substantially, and temperatures were pleasant during the rest of our stay in the city, with no rain. Since the rainy season had just ended, the dry season dust had not set in yet but the humidity had mostly vanished. This is Bangladesh weather at its finest. Later on, the weather can be uncomfortably cool I'm told, and earlier, it can be very hot and humid. At Latitude 24 (compared to our 38), the weather obviously never gets really cold at 13 feet above sea level--as is true of Dhaka.
This mid-continent flat-lander has acquired a taste for water travel and relaxation. I wonder if somewhere in the US someone has established a river cruise company. Let me know if you know of one.
Here's an aside for the angst-smitten among us who really want a good handle on how to say things and to know what those things mean. I note that Sunderban is actually pronounced with an initial sh sound, as is true for many s spellings in Bangla. Also, the first u is pronounced like the oo in look. Ban is, of course, pronounced as the a is always pronounced by international pronunciation rules--like ah. All together now . . . Shoonderbahn.
Another perplexity I encountered is that at times the article "the" was present before "Sunderban" and at other times it was missing, and an s was attached at the end. How can it be both singular and plural? One possible answer is that a very large Sunderban area in southern Bangladesh is government land, but this is divided into three separate areas, roughly equal in size and shape, and easily designated as a western, eastern, or central region. I'm not sure what (besides location) distinguishes each area except that I learned from our guide that the western part has far more sea water infiltration, so the mangrove trees--the signature feature of the Sunderbans--are much smaller and less vigorous. And for those angst-smitten readers who noted that I omitted many needful quotation marks above, I apologize--sort of. Feeling lazy. Back to cruising.
I've never been on the water much. Several short rides in small boats over my lifetime pretty much covers my experience. The river cruise was deliciously "other."
At first, since our departure point was from a sizable city, we saw many other boats docked nearby or moving in either direction alongside our own Chuuti. Some were small open boats with their pointy prows and sterns rising high above the water. Sometimes they were apparently functioning as ferries, full of people, all standing during the crossing--in the dark, silhouetted against the water and the sky. Others were likely fishing boats, and still others were probably being used to transport goods from farm to market or from city to home.
Some boats were much larger than ours--"ships" is surely the right word. Some of these carried passengers too, but most of them were transport vessels--many of them probably ocean-going ships that had sailed inland on one of Bangladesh's great rivers. Our captain steered expertly between them all.
Our cruise ship was apparently freshly painted for the beginning of the main tourist season in the Sunderban. It had only 20 bunks for passengers. In our group, made up of five families, plus Christy and me, there were 26 people. Double-bunking and floor mats provided sleeping space for all the children. A gathering room at one end of the ship offered space to play games, eat, and socialize. The top deck was available for that also when the weather permitted.
The routines of moving about--or not--on the water soon became familiar. In our ship the anchor was lowered when we "parked" and raised before we began to move. The engine was fired up whenever the anchor came up. A bell sounded before the ship began moving. At night a generator powered lights and fans. Movement over the water was normally smooth and restful. The coast line slid away--sometimes much closer on one side than the other. Green--all of it, except where villages and buildings and farm animals appeared--and then, later, in the Sunderban, when wild animals presented themselves.
The banks revealed a lot of tide influence, with a six-foot water-level difference which appeared at low tide. Many, many smaller creeks and streams emptied into "our" river, and at times our boat appeared to turn aside into a different channel, although it was not always easy to identify the main channel. Our outbound destination was the mouth of the river we were traversing--at the Bay of Bengal.
In an earlier post I referred to a storm in the Bay of Bengal that was taking shape before we ever left Dhaka. At that point reports said that the storm would likely soon be named, as cyclones always are (and hurricanes, their counterparts in other parts of the world). It sounded ominous, and we wondered if our trip would occur as planned, but we proceeded in faith. That turned out to be a good course of action. The storm never did strengthen to cyclone status, although it did pack a good punch. It made landfall about 850 kilometers from where we were, so we were spared the worst of the weather drama. Besides getting rain-soaked quite a lot, and besides feeling a little vulnerable when the wind and waves came up while we were anchored very close to the Bay--and besides not being able to loll about on the top deck, we mostly experienced the cruise we expected. When we left the Bay, the motion of the boat was less smooth than at any other time--but nowhere close to triggering sea-sickness, for me at least.
Those cruise banquets? We had all the good food minus any accompanying drama, except for a few over-eager little boys whose determined early entrance into the serving line and whose big scoops of rice overshot the edge of the plate and had to be plucked off the floor so as not to be tracked elsewhere.
An on-board cook must have been kept busy in the kitchen. The great cooking smells drifted up from the hold below, and we heard the occasional chopping, stirring, sizzling noises that normally accompany food preparation.
I ate fresh water chestnuts for the first time. And guava, sliced into apple-like wedges and served with salt. Also, milk from green coconuts. These were prepared in time for the returning boaters who had been out a long time in the rain. A thin slice from the bottom allowed the coconuts to sit squarely on a flat surface. A bigger slice across the top exposed the center cavity. A straw was stuck into this cavity, and our container-drink combination was ready.
We had three good meals every day, and mid-morning and mid-afternoon snacks. Hot coffee and tea were always available. I lost track of many of the names of foods we ate, but it was all delicious. I'm hoping that H will have time to send me a list of the foods we ate so that I can mark them in my Bangladesh cookbook and try them again some time.
We left Dhaka early on Wednesday morning and returned early on the following Monday. During that time the weather had cooled off substantially, and temperatures were pleasant during the rest of our stay in the city, with no rain. Since the rainy season had just ended, the dry season dust had not set in yet but the humidity had mostly vanished. This is Bangladesh weather at its finest. Later on, the weather can be uncomfortably cool I'm told, and earlier, it can be very hot and humid. At Latitude 24 (compared to our 38), the weather obviously never gets really cold at 13 feet above sea level--as is true of Dhaka.
This mid-continent flat-lander has acquired a taste for water travel and relaxation. I wonder if somewhere in the US someone has established a river cruise company. Let me know if you know of one.
posted by Mrs. I (Miriam Iwashige) at
8:18 AM
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