Flight To Delhi, thoughts on Bangladesh

I am on the flight from Dhaka, Bangladesh to Delhi, India. I am filled with an anxiousness that I think is a combination of butterflies and a small stomach bug. Just seeing the streets of Dhaka from a bus window when we went from the airport to the hotel was an eye opening experience. Bicycle Ricwallas (bicycle powered taxis) filled the streets and all the trucks on the road were hand painted with brightly colors and murals. The airline put us up at a simple hotel and Malcolm and I tripped out looking out the window at the street scene below. Even though we were not officially in India yet, we had arrived and it was intense. The people’s eyes are dark and mysterious and it looks totally different than the South East Asian countries we have become accustomed to.
Dhaka is the most polluted city in the world. At night, the headlights create ominous beams through the brown and gray shroud, and when you take a deep breath you can feel the smoke in your lungs. The population is 13 million and it is on its way to becoming the largest city in the world.
This morning on the ride back to the airport, it was obvious that the poverty here is severe. Whenever the bus stopped, men on crutches without legs, emaciated elders, mothers with young children on their arms, and a young blind boy with blank white eyes appealed to us with arms and cups outstretched. It was painful and hard to look at and most people just shut their windows so they did not have to deal with the awkwardness of the encounter. We are about to land in Delhi, and I am glad we have a friends house to stay at, instead of a random impersonal guesthouse, I think we will need an easy transition.