Sarah sails to the Sundarbans part 2

I awoke at 7:30 when the power to the fan over my bed was unceremoniously cut and the room began to heat up. Getting up, I decided to tour the boat a bit.The bathrooms and showers were all open air and at the back end of the boat (I'm sure there is a proper nautical word for this but I have no idea). Connecting to this was a long corridor with 5 rooms on either side (the boat holds 20 passengers). At the other end of the corridor was a large sitting room with a bright red carpet and seats built into the wall covered in black leather. There was a tree trunk in the middle that went all the way up to the roof and had a large table surrounding it. This room led to the outside deck. Below this level was the kitchen and where the crew stayed, and above was a larger deck.

J.R. and Ashish were both already up, and were talking to the 2 of the guys who had boarded the boat before us. Both were actual tourists, David, a Scottish artist visiting friends in Dhaka, and heading to India after Bangladesh, and Aigar, a Latvian man who likes to travel to crazy places (like Iran and Iraq as a tourist) and was stopping in Bangladesh on his way to see a guru in India to have his fortune told. The trip was definitely off to an interesting start. It should come as no surprise that Bangladesh does not attract the average tourist.
Kubir (our guide) told us that we would be setting sail soon and picking up the group of Germans in Mongla, a port town about 3 hours down river. Apparently they had taken a night bus from Dhaka and had to wait at the ferry for 4 hours before boarding so couldn't meet the boat at Khulna. (This seemed to confirm that taking the van was definitely the best possible choice.)

After a few hours we arrived in Mongla and dropped anchor near the shore. In the distance there were groups of day laborers building a retaining wall, and on the shore there was a group of children sliding around in the mud. Eventually nearly all the boys from the ship joined in mud festivities much to the delight of the children. One group of kids started waving to us on the boat, and yelling about Brazil. I yelled back "Argentina" and they responded with (wait for it) "Brazil" and then to change things up I yelled, "Messi" to which they retorted "Kaka" and so it went. Another group of Argentina fans joined in and waved at me enthusiastically as if I was one of their own. To add to the scene a large rusty, industrial boat was anchored about 30 feet from us. As the boys were playing in the mud, a stream of raw sewage began pouring from one of the holes on the side of the boat. We made sure to mention it to the guys as they returned to the boat. They didn't seem too shocked, as they were under no illusion as to the purity of the water, since it already had the distinct taste and smell of diesel.
The group of Germans (and an American named Will) finally joined us. They were all (I think) college students doing various summer internships in Dhaka. We again set sail.

The rest of the day was entirely and blissfully uneventful. I spent hours just looking at the passing scenery (including many fishing boats, and villages) and finally just gazing at long-lasting sunset. Spending over a month in the dirtiness, insanity that is Dhaka made me appreciate the serenity of the water like never before.