
To get to the island on barges, which departs every morning from the pier Teknaf - a small town located on a narrow strip of land bordering Burma. A to Teknaf pilgrim deliver bus connecting the town with the Cox Bazar - and the only major seaside resort of the country.
Shuttle bus to Teknaf leaves early in the morning. We have to travel 90 kilometers. The distance is not too great and, but taschimsya slowly. Asphalt is found only in some places, large villages, and immediately after them for a bus rising plume of dust. On the way there are barriers, begins with a "distant borderlands": one outpost after another. "A man with a gun" foreigners are not interested - the main thing that is not infiltrated spies from neighboring Myanmar (Burma). For there, in the south - the border with Burma, which has been ruled a ball that year the junta. Local nationalist patriots renamed Burma Myanmar - by name, title, nationality, the largest in number in the country.

By Teknaf rolls for lunch. On the main street (it is also the road) - a picturesque market, the large hill of watermelons. Here be overnight, and in the morning - a trip to the island of St. Martin. Tourists, foreigners are almost never happens, but hoteliers are not disturbed, and the signs now and then encountered a proud word "international".
Teknaf is on the banks of tributaries into the river Naaf. She, in turn, smoothly into the bay, which lies on the border between Bangladesh and Burma. Pier, from where boat off the island of St.. Martin pritknulas to shore, where the noise Bazarchik. Knowledgeable people are advised to arrive here early in the morning to take place in the wherry. And in any case not be late. Exactly at 9 am departure, during high tide, at high water.
Good people do not make a mistake, and at 8 am, people reached out to the pier. Although the island of St.. Martin (5 square kilometers) on it 5,5 thousand people, and the flow of passengers, plying back and forth, running out. However, the so-called island of the British, but for local residents and remains Narikel Dzhindzhira (Coconut Island).

Jump in the boat and find ourselves ankle-deep in water. Rickety tub is leaking, but barefoot Kormshchikov is not worried. But now nothing to lose, and set foot on shore, you can not dodge the oncoming wave. For what was given "unit"? - "Wash their boots in the Indian Ocean." And the Bay of Bengal - an integral part thereof, and "it is uniquely ... Small island, and around it can be for half a day. This is the southernmost point in Bangladesh, but here, on the outskirts, all inhabited and under cultivation. Population pressure 120 millionth of the country is being felt on this island. And when in 1991 here from Burma fled to 5 thousand Muslims, the population density doubled. We had to evacuate refugees to the "mainland".
The island is not only a surplus of workers, but paws. The island teems with dogs, and they are all red suit. In the hut sat an old man with a cigarette in his mouth, and next, under a palm tree - his faithful Alma, whelp after six hotels. The old man took the puppy and held out his guest - take for that! One mouth less! Dogs, huts, palm trees, boats, fishermen, lighthouse, rice fields - is all that can be seen on the island. I walked along the shore in search of beautiful shells, but it is useless: all that is of interest to long collected and deposited in the souvenir shop. But that had not paid, more profitable and safer to keep the inn, and there are several. Competition desperate for customers is a struggle. They still catch the boat, on shore, and lead to your house by disgruntled glances rivals. On the island there is a "Smolny": in the coastal strip of resin fishermen and their boats boats, and during a smoke - cigarettes.
Departure scows announced at 3 pm, but the natives gather at the crossing to the 4-m. Hurry with the arrival in Teknaf no sense: enter from Naafy in our flow is possible only on the big water.
On the right hand again stretch Hills birmanschiny. To our river leave earlier "estimated time" and become anchored in the vicinity of junks and sampans. All waiting patiently for the tide, but a smart Boatman ( "Taxi Driver") offers its services to those who hurry to the shore. Price shall be appointed "on the moon": the higher the water level, the lower the cost of the crossing.
A "business" does not stand up and begins to move out of our barge in frail canoe. He was carrying a case with term papers for the "center". He puts his shoes in the boat, and then, leaning over the railing, jumping in there, and "soap box" sharp bends on the severity. As he fell overboard, the clerk drops the briefcase into the river, and she calmly swallows the victim. Boots, who stood at the rim go there too.
Fumble on the bottom and no one once: already dusk. Bedolagu pull out of the water by the collar, and he gradually comes to. He will go to the village "office" in a torn shirt and one sock. Or maybe he just is thus left to tax? As the saying goes "maritime accounting - the wiser. Boatman, a taxi driver asked the passengers: Are there any other? Aboard scows silence - none.
Meanwhile, it was already dark, and the Burmese coast for the mountains visible glow. It seems that this illumination of a large city, although the map does not denote. What is the secret facility where banged up? "Rangoon-40" "Mandalay-16"? but maybe it's burning the huts of Muslims set on fire by the Burmese junta? Glow brighter, and now because of the ridge appears ... bright yellow rump of the moon. As the water reaches the silver track. It is becoming brighter. Today a full moon, and have already seen as a reverse. The water is rising, and we start to gently climb up the flow.
We huts standing on bamboo rafts, animation: raftsman prepare for rafting. Our pilot will gently pushing barges along the narrow fairway, trying not to run aground. By chalitsya board the boat, the owner offers passengers to buy the catch of fish. We are now not up to him, but the fisherman his interest. He lights a lamp and puts it on a pile of live silver: see and choose ...
Half an hour later seemed cherished haven, but it still need to get. At the pier, two barges, and we chalimsya lag. Darkness we move to the shore, trying not to break our legs and not fall into the open hatches of the holds. Extreme caution and composure help overcome the insidious trap. Up the coast, one step, now you can and relax. But it does not go in vain: with a sweep go into some muck. Here, on a low shore pools do not dry out. So, again, to wash his boots
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