Though the beach stretches for miles to the north and south, most visitors are content to sit on the sands at Cox’s Bazar itself. They’re free, open to the public and so expansive that it’s nearly impossible to feel crowded.
But just miles away from frenzied, industrialized Dhaka, the landscape changed dramatically and revealed a verdant, flat land covered by hand-tended rice fields and palm trees hanging lazily in the heat. Tiny ponds, green from algae, dotted the countryside like puddles after a rainstorm. Children bathed and played and waved excitedly at passing buses.
For a certain generation, that’s how this country is best remembered: for the 1971 Concert for Bangladesh that Harrison and his friends, including the Bengali musician Ravi Shankar, held to raise money for famine relief in Bangladesh.
Bangladesh still rarely makes the news unless there’s a devastating flood,a disease outbreak or political turmoil, as was the case last month when strikes related to next month’s elections paralyzed the country and left at least two dead. (At travel.state.gov/travel, the State Department has cautioned Americans that it “expects the situation throughout Bangladesh to remain uncertain through January.”)
I started my monthlong visit in Dhaka, the swirling and chaotic capital on the Buriganga River. One doesn’t enjoy a casual stroll through Dhaka. A trip to the city’s center means bushwhacking through throngs of garishly decorated rickshaws, buses held together by Bondo putty and taxis that belch and wheeze around the clock.
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