sonarbangla / MadameReya, dilettante extraordinaire

I have visited the Martyr’s Monument in Savar, Bagladesh, twice – in 1996 and 1998. After having enjoyed the peacefulness of the place on my first visit, I felt compelled to return.

On both visits, I made the journey to Savar by auto rickshaw with a couple of local acquaintances. The trips were rather long – about an hour to and from Savar from the capital city of Dhaka. My most acute memory of those trips involved the olfactory assault of dust and human toil, mingled with inescapable vehicle exhaust fumes; those combined to produce dizzying effects.

However, upon entering the park and gardens surrounding the Martyr’s Monument, the typical hustle and bustle of the Bangladeshi roadside abruptly ceased. Paths lined with flowering shrubs, low bridges over a small stream, and reflective ponds seemed to embrace the park’s dominant feature – a towering seven-pronged stone monument to those that died in the war of 1971, fighting for Bangladeshi independence against West Pakistan (Bangaldesh was known as East Pakistan before gaining independence).

I found a certain sense of solemnity in the park when I went – a certain meditative energy. Perhaps the degree of peacefulness that I found at the Martyr’s Monument was a perfect foil to the atrocities committed in that short, but brutal, 1971 war. I hope that this park will remain such a tranquil place, and that those who visit will remember its meaning.

If you drive to pavement’s end on Quinchao Island (a small island off the east coast of Chiloe Island), you will reach the little time-warped town of Achao.

We happened upon Achao while more-or-less randomly exploring the countryside of Chiloe. Upon reaching the fishing village of Dalcahue (pronounced doll-ka-way), we found a small car ferry servicing the island of Quinchao, and decided to get on board. The ride to Quinchao took all of five minutes!

We joined the island’s main road and followed it to its paved terminus in Achao, arriving just in time for SIESTA! Now…I have traveled quite a bit in southern South America, and I can vouch for the fact that every small town street is vitually deserted between 1 PM and 3:30 PM. But in Achao, the temporarily closed shops and sparsity of human beings coupled with the feeling of being cut off from the technological advancements of the industrial age, giving us the sense of being caught in a time warp. How long had Achao been just like it was that day? ...a hundred years, perhaps…

We walked along the lonely waterfront, upon a sidewalk made of crushed white seashells that squeaked and crunched with each step. Half a dozen small fishing boats were tied up at a small pier, and one fisherman was hauling in his catch.

We walked past the town’s small wooden church, reputed to be the oldest such church in Chiloe. The wooden churches are UNESCO heritage sites, and each is unique.

Driving out of town, we happened upon a fantastic panoramic overlook of Achao, from which we could see the Andes in the distance. There was a small thatch hut/kiosk, from which a local woman was selling handmade items made of woven straw. Being a sucker for this type of stuff, I picked up a straw teacup/saucer and teapot.

Since I was a child, I had wanted to visit Coyhaique. Having spotted this isolated city on my globe during early adolescence, I concocted many short stories set in ‘mysterious’ Coyhaique, without having any real knowledge of the place.

So, naturally, when I planned my first (solo) trip to Chile in 2001, Coyhaique had to be my first stop.

From the international airport in Santiago, I flew directly to Balmaceda – a tiny airport a short distance from town. I was astonished by the beautiful scenery we flew over…lakes of every imaginable color, and frigid-looking mountains and hills tumbling down into the ocean. No sign of civilization could be seen south of Puerto Montt.

Coyhaique surprised me. It was quite a small town, set into the bowl of the Rio Simpson Valley, and its culture was similar to that of most other small southern South American towns. I stayed at the diminutive “Hotel El Reloj ( http://www.elrelojhotel.cl/hotel.php ) ” for a few days, covered the town on foot, conversed in Spanglish with some shopkeepers, and found it difficult to believe that this town was so remote. And then I rented a car.

Within minutes Coyhaique was out of sight, and the Chilean Patagonian countryside seemed to spread limitlessly in all directions. At the time I went, many hillsides had been stripped of native trees, to provide adequate land for new farmer-settlers. I saw mostly small farms, with geese and ducks wandering about.

This region is also quite famous for its fishing, and I passed several lovely lakes embedded in rolling hills. As I drove along the coast of one such lake, a ‘sunshower’ passed over, lending an ethereal beauty to the landscape.

I think that the taxi driver who brought me from Balmaceda to Coyhaique summed up the town the best: “Coyhaique es muy tranquilo.”