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Published: March 24th 2008
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It was an 18 hour train ride from Kesinga to Kolkata. A trip that resulted in my ipod being stolen from my sleeping bag, as I slept in it, and a lady boy beggar punching me in the face and screaming what sounded much too much like a Jihad curse. It was an experience, i'll say that. One Chris and I will not forget.
Our first day in Kolkata began very early when we rolled in around 8am and immediately began a bidding war with taxi drivers to take us to a guesthouse. We found one reasonably priced taxi and hopped in. The ride from the train station to the guesthouse, i will always remember. First, the taxis in Kolkata are beautiful. They have the look of the old 50's cars (probably because that's when they were all made) and they're all a wonderful, bright, yellow (as a taxi should be). As well, none of them have rear view mirrors. This could be for one of two reasons we believe. 1. The manufacturers didn't feel the need to add mirrors on the outside of the car because it costs them extra. 2. The traffic in Kolkata is so bad and jam
packed that any car with rear view mirrors would lose them within about 10 minutes of being on the road. My guess is number 2 but we never did take the time out to ask anyone.
The following day Chris and I decided to get a tour of Kolkata. Though the last time, in Delhi, we'd found it a bit boring to be couped up inside a taxi all day and just drive by the sights. As a replacement, we booked a motorcycle tour with two 21 year old indian guys, Mogli and Paul. They arrived at our guesthouse at about 10am with their choppers and two helmets that looked as if they'd crack if we dropped them. We realized today might be our last on earth and took a second to accept it. Then we hopped on the bikes and sped off into the famous Kolkata traffic. One thing I can say to those who want to get around in an Indian city without waiting hours in traffic jams: motorbike is the way to go. Even with the thousands of cars blocking our way, our experienced guides swerved in and out of lanes at speeds that were way above
Gangies river
At the steps of the temple the legal limit. When I looked over Mogli's shoulder to see just how fast our hyper speed bike was going, I was pleasantly surprised to see the spedometer pointing at zero; it was broken. To those who do decide to try their own on the roads of Kolkata, just make sure you know what you're doing. Motorbike related accidents are unbeleivably common in third world countries, India especially. Even with Mogli's constant reassurance that there was in fact 'no problem', the past experience of mine and Chris' motorbike accident in Kesinga still haunted the back of my mind and worried me constantly when the bike roared down the highway.
Mogli and Paul took us to a number of temples including the largest in all of Kolkata: Kali Temple. Chris and I swam in the Holy Gangies river and did the 'Holy Dip'; where you bob in and out of the water three times just at the steps of the river. We found markets and bought some great souvenirs. We even visited the Kolkata cremation centres, and saw the last few flames from a recently burned corpse.
We all shared a lunch of mutton and rice which niether Chris nor I
the gangies
holy dippin' had the stomach for. The Indian food had begun to get to us and our cravings for McDonalds and Harvey's had grown considerably over the past few days. Our last stop was the Kolkata garbage dump where we saw all of the locals working in sewage, moving it in and out of trucks all day.
When the tour ended we said our goodbyes to Mogli and Paul as they sped away from our guesthouse. Later that night we walked across the street to the city morgue and the undertaker there let us see a few bodies. My curiosity peeked and I moved in as close as I could to the see the corpses in detail. Chris stood in the other room peeking in with a face that could make anyone laugh. The bodies were definitely not as gruesome or terrifying to look at as I had expected, though I was in no mood to stay and have tea with them. We left briskly as the undertaker slid the bodies back into their coffins.
For dinner Chris and I searched and searched and found the only KFC in Kolkata. We relished our beautiful find and ordered what most would call an
absurd amount of food. We didn't care, there wasn't any rice, chapati or chai, and it was just what we needed. We headed off to bed full of fast food and satisfaction in our smiles. We had begun to sink into Kolkata, and at that moment we realized; Kolkata had begun to sink into us.
Love from Kolkata, or Calcutta (2001)
Evan and Chris
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Elias
non-member comment
As I sit here, in my cramped residence room with an unconcious drunk of a roommate working on a 3,000 word essay on the influence of Greek philosophy on Christian religions, I think to myself... "Wow, Evan and Chris were right. Elias, you're a goon." When are you cats coming home?