Ett smakprov från våran ljuvliga utställning...; in english!

Dear diary.

We went there in a Bhen, a rickshaw with two benches, made for four, that Musta accustomed waved in from the side of the road. The bengal countryside´s fresh air shaped our hair in silly hair-do´s, while we enjoyed the view of ricefields that seemed to have no end, enlightened by the golden eveningsun. Well there at the market you could do nothing but asceirtan what an obvious conrast it was, in comparision to the calmness that striked the way there. It was a delightful mosaic of color- and scent explosions, women who balanzed gigantic baskets filled with cauliflower on their head, the pharmacy of the market with pills of all shapes and colors neatly lined up on a yellow blanket, handcustomed stubs which I couldn´t decide wether they were a piece of art to me, or objects of every day use. A man washed both his body and his teeth by a waterpump, another sold the tiniest dried fishes I´ve ever seen.

After an hours eventful walk, and some handcustomed stubs richer, we went home to Koitta with the same widely smiling bhen-driver. The sun started to change color from golden to bright red, and sank in the horizon. It´s slow movement was reflected in the surface of the still water of the ricefields, and I knew then already that here, to Bangladesh, I want to return..




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