Bangladesh, the beautiful

You hear the fish hunters of Narail, in western Bangladesh, long before you see them. Sharp screeching penetrates the air by the riverbank, on the edge of the village, where ranks of canoes hold large bamboo cages and pairs of furry otters, those world-champion fish catchers. Villagers in the area harness the otters for a fishing partnership that dates back thousands of years and one that was used in Britain until the late 1800s.

At dusk I set out on a narrow boat with Robin, a local fisherman, and Tanjil, my guide in Bangladesh. We drift down river until we reach a quiet fishing spot on a bend in the river where trees drape their branches into the water.

Robin opens the bamboo cage and releases his two harnessed otters into the water, carefully adjusting their rope. A swift tug on the ropes attached to his otters, and the pair are chasing fish into the net, which Robin lifts back into the boat, dumping the catch at our feet.

Smiles despite hardships

It is an ancient way of life and a side of this country that Westerners rarely see. We tend to associate Bangladesh only with disasters, flooding and tragedy but it is also a lush, beautiful country with some of the warmest and friendliest people on the planet.

I was travelling through Bangladesh on a long journey around the Tropic of Cancer for the BBC series of the same name. After circling the world following the Equator and Tropic of Capricorn for previous TV series, it made sense to complete the set by travelling along the line marking the northern border of the most extraordinary region of the planet. Thanks to endless sunshine, the Earth's tropical region is stuffed with amazing animals, birds, plants and trees. But it is also home to the greatest concentration of poverty. So beautiful and brilliant but blighted at the same time.

For more than six months I followed the Tropic of Cancer through 18 countries, starting in Mexico and crossing the Caribbean, North Africa, the Arabian peninsula, India and Asia. I saw spectacular sights but Bangladesh became my favourite.

With a small BBC team I began my journey across the country in the far west, close to the border with India. Pancake-flat with potholed roads and criss-crossed by more than 700 rivers, the best way of getting around the water world of Bangladesh is by boat. Leaving the otter fishermen of Narail behind, we chug towards the capital, Dhaka, on a live-aboard motorboat along the Padma River, better known as the Ganges when it passes through India.

In Bangladesh, life revolves around the water. Up to 60 per cent of the country floods every year. The remaining dry patches of land are crammed with at least 160 million people — the seventh-largest population in the world — in an area smaller than England and Wales. So everywhere we go there is an intensity of colour and activity. When we stop to film, huge crowds gather just to watch us. But they are welcoming.

This is not to ignore the challenges and problems facing Bangladesh. Almost the entire country is just a few metres above an already-rising sea level, the main reason why global climate change threatens Bangladesh more than anywhere else in the world.

Love transcends notions

But what captivates me about the country is the spirit of its people. Despite their problems and severe poverty Bangladeshis remain positive and genial.

I even love the much-maligned capital. Docking our boat in Dhaka at the port of Sadargat offers a vision of life that would have had Turner reaching for his brushes. Huge, dirty ferries jostle for a berth, smoke pouring from their exhausts and water churning behind them. Emerging from the ferry terminal into the chaos of Dhaka is an experience I will remember always.

Dhaka is one of the fastest-growing cities in the tropics, home to spectacular neighbourhood restaurants serving fiery curries and hundreds of thousands of brightly painted rickshaws, each one a mobile work of art. It is also a city where slums house millions in poverty and vast armies of children work and beg to help feed their families.

Blitz spirit

But travel in the tropics and you realise this is not isolated urban squalor, but the reality for most of the planet. What makes Bangladesh different is a sense of community that has encouraged the development of local charities filling the gaps left by governments. Bombarded by nature and poverty, Bangladeshis have developed a Blitz spirit.

Before I leave Bangladesh, Tanjil has prepared one final treat. We join a knockabout game of kabbadi, the national sport. Two teams line up against each other and send a lone raider into the other half. He has to tag someone in the opposite team and get back without being caught and wrestled to the ground. The catch is that when you go after the opposing team you have to hold your breath and chant, "Kabbadi, kabbadi, kabbadi", as proof. It is fun and I escape with just minor injuries. Poor and packed as it is, travelling across Bangladesh is an experience that lingers. It was a country I didn't want to leave.