Himachari

This quiet beach was paradise with its extending sands and surrounding forest. I would say that it was deserted, but I’d be wrong as we met many street children along the way, not to mention clusters of bright red sand crabs with their pokey eyes, that scurried sideways as they fled from us.


After waking up this morning we went directly to our favourite food joint and had our breakfast. We stuffed ourselves with four spicy “shobji shingaris” and three delicious parathas. It was then possible for us to face the long expedition ahead of us!
We tracked down an autorickshaw, or “tempo” in Bangla, and we took a ride down to another small beach village called Himachari. As the driver pulled over, we were immediately greeted by a young boy shouting, “I am tourist guide!”. We weren’t born yesterday! We sussed that he was just a lad wanting all the money he could scrounge.
We walked along the beach with this boy following us, accompanied by a younger lad of about six years old. Before we knew it, we had drawn so much attention, and it was like being the Pied Piper of Hamlyn! The children were singing songs for us as we were walking and we sang one back for them. Ours was good, but the children knew that theirs were so much better.
In total we walked for about six hours along the stunning beach and we reached our favourite café, the “Angel Drop”, come sunset. Just when we thought we had escaped the barking dogs of the Cornish country lanes, we bumped into some fierce dogs that came from underneath the restaurant. Luckily, the dogs were owned by the restaurant owner and he kept them under control. The last thing we want is a rabid dog biting us!
Talking of rabid, when we were taking a cycle rickshaw back to our hotel, there was an on and off noise that sounded like two pieces of sandpaper being ground together next to a microphone. We then noticed a mangy, old sheep running next to our rickshaw and into the oncoming traffic at great speed, which could only be described as rabidly insane.