Random hits on the keyboard

Before I touched down in Dhaka, my Google searches sketched an impression of the city for me. Some random YouTubers nicely explained the city as 'chaotic' but lively. The images that popped up in Google searches were a blur of rickshaws, endless sea crowds, and traffic jams across the city. A continuous hunk of vehicles adds an extra layer to the existing chaos.  And then I landed. The first surprise came at the airport. The exit procedures felt strangely comforting. I am used to with the confusing airport procedure, but everyone is happy to explain it to you. That's very similar to Kathmandu airport - manual systems, handwritten checks, officers talking to you instead of at you. It reminded me so much of Kathmandu Airport. Something is reassuring about organised imperfection. The hospitality was immediate. I felt that I knew the context, and I have a familiarity with the environment. Outside, my taxi took me to Gulshan 2. We took a toll road. A toll road! For someone from...

“In all chaos, there is a cosmos, in all disorder, a secret order.” — Carl Jung "Kathmandu is chaotic"—I grew up hearing and believing this. It often seems as if there are no rules here, that everything runs on its own terms. Traffic is a perfect example. The roads are narrow, there are barely any footpaths, and street vendors occupy half the street. Somewhere, always, there’s road construction, sewage repair, or a new water pipeline being laid. The city is messy. But as I move around the city more mindfully, I’ve begun to notice something different—a kind of unwritten system. Amid the disorder, Kathmandu has created its own rhythm, its own way of functioning. Take traffic, for example. Everyone knows that motorbikes get preference at traffic lights. It’s not in the rulebook, but it works. Ironically, trying to strictly impose traffic regulations often creates more disorder than the chaos it aims to fix. And then there's the strange system of signalling on highways, where...