Tuesday, 24 January 2012

for a weekend...

rice field, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012
i leave for the first time dhaka. i am going to barishabo, kazipur, gazipur. gazipur is the district, one of the 17 districts of the division dhaka. kazipur is the main city of it, and barishabo is the village. the village is 3 hours away, in total. it is not far, but the traffic jam, changing from rickshaw to the bus to the mini car, to the motorbike and the unsteady street, makes it sow. i enjoy it, sleep most of the time.

i am going with tajul, a friend of a friend's girlfriend. was in bangladesh for 7 weeks, the first time after 12 years. he left because of different reasons, because of frustration, he says. actually he wanted to be in england, ended up in germany, ended up as a bavarian cook from franken. now he is back in his family village, since 3 weeks. and now with me.

the  woman in the house they are amazing. the perfect housewife. even so amazing that i almost get ino the habit of not doing anything else. just being served. need to stop it.

barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012
i know now why we took the motorbike. i said we can walk. cause of taking images, wandering around, not getting every single time of the bike. tajul said we should take the bike. so we took the bike.

and he was right. every single time we got off, walked around, people gathered around us, walked with us. that's ok, if they would not stand in the frame. and i understand. i would be curious. it is gossip. for them. so i do understand.

a while ago a friend of me said to me that he does not wanna live anymore in other countries. he would feel foreign and this foreigness would not wash up with the time. you could not disappear, treated equal, just as you. this is what i am saying. i think i could even wear a bin bag and it would not really matter. and actually i have to say i feel with my primark trousers and h and grey jumper ( i do not wanna even start to talk about this. i leave it for later) like in a bin bag.

he also says why don't you stay in your country. tere are issues to talk about as well. the kurds, the poverty... i know. i am here out of curiousity, that's it and to see, to learn, abut them, about me, and the gossip.

wall, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012

jars, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012

the village is big. but when i mean big that it is so big that you cannot simple walk through all of them. the village stretched in between and along the rice, banana fields, on a bit of a uprising part. not sure if that helps from preventing flodding. tajul says no.

every village has a mosque, a school and thousands of shops. a carpent, hairdresser, food, vegetable, sewing, dressmaker, a tea store. then again a hairdresser, a food shop, vegetable, maybe a carpenter, smebody who is fixing cars. and in between a lot of people. walking around, chatting, a few cows, chicken, a dog sleeping on the floor, not bothered by on and off coming motorbikes.

very slow life. i suppose this is one thig western getting fascinated about, desire it, romanticize it. some aspects. i am from a village and i guess it was like that 30 or 50 years ago. nothing special. its not anymore since television and big supermarkets arrrived. and that's not nostalgic.

cloth drying in a banana field, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012
the woman touched me, on my face. over my eyes. on my body. tajul and me went into a home. because i saw something. the colors, whatever.

the woman was in her room. her daughter and her garndchildren outside. she was blind, talked, got really confused and at the end concerned. not sure what would happen with the images.  she sayid.  i was just smilling, did not know what else to do. i left, needed to leave, time was flying, and time was limited.
photographers are coming into a for them strange place, have something in their mind, maybe something very important, usefull and productive, for their story, can't speak the local language, smile a bit and then leave again and what is leave behind?

i don't think i am so important, don't misunderstand me, but just the pure idea. coming into a space with a woman in a very well age, who maybe never seen anybody foreign, not lets say somebody out of her village and then me coming for literal 5, 10 minutes and then leaving again.

did i know what i wanted their, except from documenting the space, showing the beautiness of it, communicating it.

was the same when i went to the old school of tajul, where there was just a celebration going and i ended up on the stage in front of all the kids because in that way they would focuss on the stage not on something else. i felt horrible. i never do that again.

barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012

at the end we came into a wedding, passing it by. it was in a bigger part of the village, asked if we could stay. people were happy, actually less bothered by us, then the groom, who came in a shinny car, wit roses stuck with clear tape to the entrance on the wedding party,

he had to play a game, standing in fornt of a red string, drinking orange liquid, eating sweets. one of them was good, teh other make you sick. he has to guess and his friends are helping him.  tajul said this to me, i think. 

not sure how many guest were there. first the guest from the bride were eating, then the others from the man. lack of space, tajul says.

one little side gossip: the bride actually loved somebody else. this is at least what tajul's cousin said later when we told him about the wedding. he knows the bride. his cousin fell in love with her. and the friend of his cousin, but we ignor that part. anyway she was in love with him but had to marry somebody else. why? tajul's cousins says because the cousin lives in dhaka. i am not sure.

banners, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012
briks, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012
they are building a school. the old one is too old. so the village people decided to build a new one. out of bricks, cause clay is too soft, breaks to quickly. the more or less rich villagers were paying for it. tajul's family was one if them.

education is imprtant. even so being aware that it can cause the other effect and causes opinions like hitler is a strong leader and he did good things for germany as a lot of bangaldeshi told me. not important here. here it is important to learn read, write, math and english. that's important. really important, even just to get them time off work.


adnan, drik, dhanmondi, dhaka, 23rd jan 2012
adnan is one of the photographers. a news photographer who has a great sense of framing pictures. his pictures are black and white, hard contrast, no grey areas. framing snapshot like but sense for characters and building up a great tension and involves me emotionally. totally. 

pictures about dhaka, about tarvelling, about density of people, about pressue, about anxiety context ? i do not care. i feel, i breath.

"do you know tillmann." me
he is looking at me, surprised, rising up his eyebrows, showing his white teeth. his eyes are sparkling.
"do you know i just thought just a moment ago about tillmann. this is crazy" in his bangaldesh accent, very hard, rolling r. he is shaking his head, turning around to the screen, till shaking.

working in the studio, drik, dhanmondi, dhaka, 23rd jan 2012
usually we do not work in the studio. usually more the opposite. we can, but we choose not, just when we have. i think. but that's my opinion. sumon has to, adnam chose to or i made adnam choose to.

adnam and sumon are really good friend. sumon says. sumon also says they have a very bad humor. very mean, he means.

i like the humor. like in general the humor of this place, my photo department. it can be tough,  a lot of play with words. a lot of nonsense. but also seriousness. if it is neccessary. more earnest, if you can call it like that. nice combination.

sumon, drik, dhanmondi, dhaka, 23rd jan 2012

sumon is also a photographer, also for drik news, but sometimes studio. he is also funny, but yes indeed. but even more opinionated, perfect person to endless discuss things. very strong opinionated, speaks with his heands, with his whole body.

he wants to express himself within photography, show how real bangaldesh is. shoots perfect composed pictures, but tries to be now like bruce gilden. i think so, he says. but he is talking about things, about bangaldesh, about dhaka, about its problems, issues. not just for the sake of the image.

and he loves i phone. and its apps. not sue more the app or the i phone. downloaded within the first week 60 apps, something like that. as far i can remember. he can solve any problems you have and actually doesn't even get tired of it.

Monday, 23 January 2012


candle, national museum, dhaka, 19th jan 2012
did i say. you usually do not walk in dhaka. not more than 5 meters at least. or lets say 10:) sorry but they don't. or the people i at least know. maybe this says something about the social class i am in. probably for sure. cause i am living in dhanmondi and that is a nice area. so nice that a person needs to have a more or less good income. the first time for me. usually living in small rooms, eating boring cheap food, first time i am part of the more upper middle class.

anyway i was walking. 50 minutes, from dhanmondi to national museum. maybe 40 if i would not get in trouble finding in the first place the way. but i found it,  after walking along thousand of little shops for porcelan, people waiting for the bus. running over crossroads and not getting killed ended up here, because i was too early for meeting my friends for watching a movie.

and the national museum is part of the film festival, one of the locations.

park, public library, dhaka, 19th jan 2012

the film festival is already for the 12th time. for about one week, or two. for quite a long time. movies from all over the world. documentary, fiction, short film. all kinds. 3 locations.

one is the public library.

it has a park. people sitting outside, enjoying the time before the movie starts.  there are a view tents with information, sellling desk. nothing special, a press department, or better say tent. i ask for some numbers. for the people who are organizing it. they are looking confused. one is getting his mobil out, searching for a name. writing it down.

cinema, film festival, public library, dhaka, 19th jan 2012
the movie we are watching is from iran. ' invitation' it is called. i love iranian movies. they are very metaphorical, beautifully visually made and great stories.

this one, not sure. 5 or 6 stories around woman and pregnancy, different aspects and how they are managing to decide for the child. actually a good idea, considering the fact that this aspect is probably not that well articulated in a country like iran. or at least to change my perception that these topics are not talked about in countries like this one. 
only issue, for whatever reason i get  after the fourth episode the slight feeling that it is a bit of a propaganda for woman not having an abortion in any case. not that abortion is good or bad, but at least having the choice, or at least the representation of choice or two sided would be good. so well, but anyway good so at least i get to know another side of iranian movie making and story thinking.

info desk, film festival, public library, dhaka, 19th jan 2012


wall, abahani playground, dhanmondi, dhaka, 14 th jan 2012

abahani playground is open every day. morning till evening. if i go to work,  around 9 am,  people already going in there. in the evening as well. after it is dark and the lights are switched on. in between there are always a lot of people, sitting around, playing, watching, eating snacks. the usual things. like it. see it very often. is it because there is a lack of television and computer games.

it gets dark here very quick. close to the aquator. very quick. around 6, first bright then grey, then dark. 

guys, abahani playground, dhanmondi, dhaka, 17 th jan 2012
on the playground people play football an cricket. most of the time cricket. but a bit football. actually a lot considering the fact that cricket is the games not just in bangladesh but in south asia.

this field is also place for the football team of the abahani club. It is a famous football club and within its 32 years between 1973 to 2005, the club played a number of times in the finals of the first division camp and premier division football league. 

boy, abahani playground, dhanmondi, dhaka, 14 th jan 2012

cause of the size of one football field there is just one. result is that the less important foodball teams have to play in between the cricket area. 
they love german football, they say. but even more english, and balack. i always hear balack. i am impressed. a bit proud i have to say.

legs and goal, abahani playground, dhanmondi, dhaka, 14 th jan 2012

wandering around 2...

wall 1, dhanmondi, dhaka, 19th jan 2012
i am ok now. feel like people are not anymore constantly looking at me, saying 'hello', 'where are you from' or loughing. feel like i am part of all these people. that is good. in some points.

photographer need curiousity for their work. their eye has to stay fresh. even for a journalist. picking up topics depends how excited you are. i need excitement. otherwice i am bored. and then i do not look anymore.

at the moment i have 1001 topics i would like to talk about. but not about poverty, not about climate change, and please no slum- maybe about slum tourism and the annoyance of some people about ngo work.

the most people know about bangaldesh that, just that. oh and i forgot garnment industry and exploiting people. and it is good that people know it, very good. but not just that.

bangladesh is a country, people living in there. nice people, not nice people. but living, like everywhere. and like everwhere they have fun,  they are interesting, they are boring, they are inspiring, they have problems. but not just.

i think that is important. plus also to tell. cause just fair to the people, to the country and actually to understand the problems they actually have. to widden the idea of a country, of its people, to make it human. but also to learn,  or just to praise the the beauty of life, the extraordinary moments within a day. like gossiping. 

and as gossip implies it is important to tell. if nothing, just for the fun.

wall 2, dhanmondi, dhaka, 19th jan 2012n
elections are coming. they can take from 3 month to 10 years. nobody knows. on what it depends.?on the temporary gouvernment, on the people, on the people who are voting. this is what i heared. what is true- or whatever truth is- there is an unoffical two party system. one is he leader, the other opposition. next to it they have a lot of smaller parties. not in charge, but around.

bangaldesh is a parlimentary representative democractic republic. head is the prime minister. this time a woman. like in india. i am impressed. says something about politics in bangaldesh. or at least the role of woman.

transport, dhanmondi, dhaka, 19th jan 2012

wandering around 1...

cricket game, dhanmondi lake,17th jan 2012, dhanmondi, dhaka
cricket is like football. i mean the idea of it. play it somewhere with some people, friends, random. just use a pair of chairs, a ball and a stick. simple. everybody can play it. even so the lake is scary close to the playground.

one of the lazy afternoons for dhakas middle class who are wandering around the park next to the dhanmondi lake. they are eating icecream, chatting, drinking tea and watching people cricket playing.

in between kids selling sweets, food, drinks, running around. some are begging. the sun is shining. the cricket ball is hitting the chair. one point i think for them. still don't get the cricket rules. people are watching, no shouting. the guy with the candy floss turns his head around, curious. he is smiling.

shooting game, dhanmondi lake,17th jan 2012, dhanmondi, dhaka
to be in love in dhaka is a bit of a difficult thing. to talk to the other gender, yes, to hold hands, well, to kiss- no way. even if you are married. not in public. that is the rule.

in bangaldesh arranged marriages are still common. but depending on the social class. middle and upper class are changing their idea. starting now to meet up before they are marrying, getting to know each other. and then the family arranges the marriages. a bit of cheating.

the park is a place were young people mixed genders are meeting.  one of the places were they are kind of allowed to do things they are not allowed to do in public. even if they are not married.

couple, dhanmondi lake,17th jan 2012, dhanmondi, dhaka


building house, 15th jan 2012 tungi, near dhaka

the workers living in the house. in little rooms, seperated by small walls, made out of cement, in front of it maybe a cloth, hanged up on a string. more pieces of cloth on the floor. some people were sleeping, another guy in the corner just came from his wash, his shower.

we are walking along the different rooms, wanna go upstairs, on the roof. the steps are not finsihed yet. the last ones are made out of wood still, supported with bambus sticks.

building house, 15th jan 2012 tungi, near dhaka


Biswa Jitema, 15th jan 2012, tungi, outside dhaka

we are waiting on the roof for a while now. came when it was still dark, guess around half 5. till then waiting that it would become light in order to get our picture. cause we wanted to have the best spot.
so we ended here, were already last night on a high skyscraper who was just build. a bit further down the road. this one even better. so we decided, so we were waiting.

biswa jitema is a islamic religious festival and the biggest one after the hajj in mecca, apparently. 5 million people come from around 80 million countries to pray to mohammed. so it says. not sure how they know it cause who the hell is actually counting and asking the people. same as the rickshaws guys.

guy, Biswa Jitema, 15th jan 2012, tungi, outside dhaka

with the sun people came up, on the roof top. joint us or better our view. with me was saikat, another drik guy, who helps me like a big brother. this time with biswa jitema.
last night when we walked through the crowed of people. it was dark and a bit scary, far too many people and many men. we were trying to find a spot to look at the people from above. went first on a watchtower, then on a abandoned building. i was wearing a long black veil. felt unsure and insecure.

this morning all was fine. with the daylight my security came back. standng next to the guys, taking pictures, moving around. did not matter anymore what i am, at least felt it.

funny that i felt it. interesting...

Biswa Jitema, 15th jan 2012, tungi, outside dhaka


boy, kite festival, old dhaka, 15th jan 2012

every year old dhaka is standing on the roof. something like that i would probably see in a newspaper. headline. and does it? not sure, but we are standing on the roof with other people, qute a lot of people. music, hindi pop tunes could be heared all over old dhaka. fast, melodic. in between people standing with kits. those just small dots in the sky, almost invisible.

today is the kite festival, in old dhaka. done by the hindi people, in order to celebrate the start of the spring.

boy, kite festival, old dhaka, 15th jan 2012

old dhaka is in fact old. the houses are partly probably ten times older then the nation. they are small and high, filled up with a lot of families who live here for ages. old dhaka is also the hindi center of dhaka. very important cause just 5 % or the inhabitants are hindi. 85 % are islamic. so this is a special day for them.

the kites are out of thin paper, really thin paper. i got two, better say a friend of saikat bought it for me. 2 of them for 10 taka. anyway it is not about money. was just embarrassing, first of all because of my incredible good language skills i managed to refuse to buy a string ( did not buy a string because of avariciousness, cause mixed up 100 metre with 100 taka) and then also damaged by kites before they even were in the air. great majority i showed.

kite roll, kite festival, old dhaka, 15th jan 2012

one of the ideas within the kite festival is too show off. during the day with kiting in the best possible way. high and moving it quick and fast and maybe also trying to get other kites down.

funny i saw a movie about that. a kite festival in afghanistan. who were the longest in the air would win. a little guy won with his servant friend. both were not the most popular among the others. so that was great. but the following story was a bit of a tragegy.

 kite festival, old dhaka, 15th jan 2012


taraji masjid, purana paltan, 12th jan. 2012

yesterday they were fighting. supposingly the bangladesh jamaate- e- islami- as far i can rememeber. after being in the mosque they were demonstrating, in front of it. and a quiet demonstration turned out to be a fight against the police. that was yesterday, on a thursday.

today, on this friday, nothing happened.  but instead of it a lot of photojournalists and television guys were standing around, on the bridge, under it, in front of the mosque. waiting, drinking tea, looking around, having a chat, and waiting.  in between the police, which was probably the most exciting part of the day. standing there in hundreds and passing the mosque in big cars while inside the mosque area the people quietly praying. people were checked who enter the mosque area, again coming outside. the photojournalist are still waiting, not moving.

the last deep voices from the megaphones sounded over the area, people started to leave the mosque, quietly, not even trying to make a shout. thousands of them, too many, in all directions. in long white dresses, the fancy one for fancy days, days like today.

i am standing with the other guys around. not running to another spot, talking to people and finding ut why there is not demonstration or no fighting. damn i hate to be a foreigner, a woman and than on top one of them who can speak o word bangla and is above a chicken.

taraji masjid, purana paltan, 12th jan. 2012

just a thought. now nothing happens and i am wondering does anybody talk about that? why are the photograohers and television people not taking pictures, making a story about that?- the nothing happens story. or why do u not move around, go somewhere else.

news are news are highlight. nothing happens is not a highlight.

after thought:

the bangladesh jamaate- e- islami is a party which is against the independence of bangladesh or the foundation of bangladesh. a strong islamic orientated party who is in opposition to bnp the political leading party of bangladesh.

the demonstration apparently did not happen because of biswa jitema

Sunday, 22 January 2012


Habibays birthdaycake, 12 jan 2012, Motijheel, Dhaka
habibay is my teamleader. from drik. the photography department. he started 9 years ago with photography. what he did before? i forgot. he smiles most of the time, talks with a very calm voice, never tries to pressure m,e but knows exactly how to make me move. in between a fantastic sense of humor within his comments on the side.

it's habibays birthday. people from work and me came to his house or place. his wife phoned saika, to come around, to bring some food, rice, meat, a cake. saikait and his wife sutapa came, then sumon and his wife, then moni and me.

Sumon's wife, 12th jan 2012, Motijheel, Dhaka
we were playing games, eating, talking, in bangla, in english. saikat looked at facebook, played habibays son's computer games. sumon discussed work matters with habibay. the woman prepared the food, making tea, chatting. i was looking. 11 pm we went home. got a little car, tired, sitting next to each other.

habibay is now 50 years old. he never had a birthday party before that.

habibay's son, 12 jan 2012, motijheel, dhaka

on a way...

on a rickshaw, on the way to take pictures, 12th jan 2012, somewhere in dhaka

there about 600 000 rikshaws in dhaka, but actually nobody knows. cause how? counting would not really work. or would you stand at the side of the street? the dhaka officials at least don't do it. 

a rickshaw driver is owning for lets say a good half an hours drive 30 taka, maybe more. depending were you go and how far. not the length of time matters, the miles. i think.
earlier times they used to buy their own rickshaws, nowadays most of them rent it. for the day. at least this is what sadia told me. but she just know what the rickshaw guys say to her when she gets on teh rickshaw and has a little chat.

sadia is working with me, just a sideapsect. she is from engaldn, but actually bangladesh. lived in england because of her bording school, then went back to find her roots, in dhaka. now she works for drik.

she is nice, funny, and beautiful, as all the bangaldeshi girls. but sorry i do not wana generalize. just see too many amazing looking girls. not that she is good looking cause she is bangladeshi, case she is she, but maybe also.. whatever i don't know.

anyway rickshaw drivers are amazing. cars, little car rickshaws and whatever moves on the street, in between them, going fast, shouting, ringing the bell. in between bargain for the best prize, smoking a cigarette with the others on the side lane, looking for customers.

did i say i would not take any? well if i am alone, but with others yes definitly. cause they take one and to convince a dhaker person to walk. no way. apparently girls not anyway cause they would looked at weardly, guys not cause it is slow. but slower than standing in the traffic jam? considering the fact that dhaka is not just apparently "Rickshaw Capital of the World" but also probably one of the cities with the most amount of traffic jams.

last time i walked, from dhanmondi, my area to the public library for the film festival. 2 miles away, half an hour walk.

a friday on dhakas streets, 12th jan 2012

friday is a holiday in dhaka. everybody goes to the moshe, in the park or whereever you can enjoy your self. friday is my day off. maybe.

Thursday, 19 January 2012

walking there....

way to work, 12th jan. 2012, 12th road, Dhandmondie, Dhaka
not sure how many, for how long, when they started, when they finished, how many briks they need and if all the workers sleep in the little house next to it. but what i know, they are building, a lot. every day when i come out of my house at least 10 workers are there. in the evening more, also woman. they are working by hand, carrying cement in big bowls on there head from one place to the other, probably for the whole day. it is not hot, but hot. children are in between, helping, some young guys. maybe too young?

am i getting annoyed? i don't know. every time i am passing this place i am asking my own guiltiness again. what is better? respecting their need to earn money or trying to change them with telling them about the social and political unrespectfull treatment of there position, telling them how much better we have it in germany and encouraging them to revolt and quit there work for there own proudness?

i am sure i have my point, but maybe not here. jelousy and unhappiness for no sake is not the best starting point.

anyway it is about respect. for example the rickshadriver. i am not going by rickshaw, out of principle. the city is too small, i am used to walking, i can look, take images, don't get soaked up by the incredible hectic traffic plus also leadership of the rickshaw driver. there is no need for driving rickshaws, but am i part of destroying their system?

the same with my maid. she comes to me and cleans the apartment which is not even dirty because i am so embarassed of leaving my apartment dirty for her so i clean every morning before she arrives. do i need her? would she get angree because i do not allow her to work for me out of ideological reasons?

being there...

view from my apartment, 11 th jan 2012, 6rd (new), Dhanmondi, Dhaka

i never lived better: 2 bedrooms, one kitchen, two bathrooms, one dining room, top floor, big ballcony or terrace and this view. almost like a dream.

i arrived midday on the 10th jan. tuesday. after surving the passcontrol, fighting against the group of arabs, who were constantly shamefully jumping the queue by pushing me with their, for me huge, body out of the way, after that getting my far too big backpack and then getting picked up by saikat, a member of drik, pushed through the entrance and into a car.

10 km and 1 hour later i am finally in my house, new place. and off to work again.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

on my way...

view from the plane, munich to istanbul, 9th Jan 2012

i am not very good in doing this blog. so excuss me for spelling, typing mistakes or even boring writing... but need to say this cause otherewice i never start writing on this blog,  because i am to contious about not meeting the probably not even existing expectations and now after one week i need to start writing otherwice it gets ridiculous, unbelievable and even even more boring. anyway a blog is a blog is a blog and does not mean anything- does it? anyway, oh and  sorry to write in english, but due to the difference in friends, the world knowledge and my bad german i get stuck to this language. 

anyway what am i doing. I am writing a blog, i am flying and i am going to bangladesh. that's  why i am doing a blog. 

anyway what is bangladesh actually?
famous for its cheap garnment industry, exploiting workers, maybe its beautiful countryside and more for its climate change and if so nothing than for its poorness. guess this is what people think. i thought. maybe actually less. i just knew drik, the photoagency. that's why i am going to Dhaka.

TAV Istanbul Ataturk Airport, Istanbul, 9th Jan 2012

i need to wear a scarf. the stewardess said this to me before I got on the plane. or better i asked after seeing the two other woman who were in the waiting area with me. we were the only women, except the stewardess, we three. they were wearing a scarf or better veil, me not. so guess now i have one and even so i know it is nothing major and exciting and nervous wrecking i suddenly understand how those woman must feel when they are forced to take their veil off. not that they have to but the pure idea. i feel weared, not sure how to wear it and even the yout tube videos how to wear a veil don't help me. it just feels weared and i am sure i am standing out without or with one.

Ryiadh International airport, Ryiadh, 9th Jan. 2012

late at night, landing in ryiadh, transferring from one plane to the other, but 7 hours in between them. i am fine with that, cause i like airports, like looking around and explore. airports also have this weared idea of a free zone. you are not anymore in the air, youdo not really belong to the country,  something in between. feels quite secure. people from all parts of the world, coincidently, not knowing anything about each other, piecefully, doesn't happen that often.

ryiadh airport is a gateway between the west and the east, they say. access to mecca. thats important. 5 million people living in the city, biggest in  south araia, also important.

I am here trying to find a way out, out from one exit, not throught the airport exit, but transfer, as  usually, if you fly longer. but the transfer way just ends into another whole which leads into the next gate for another plane. that's wrong. wondering around, finally meet two guys from turkey, they are on the way to phillipines. my mind is turning. i am smilling. they do not know each other, but now. i follow them, get out through a side entrance into the waiting area. not sure if i am allowed, but they two guys are happy. so me.

i am still wearing the veil.

Shahjalal International Airport, Dhaka, 10th Jan. 2012