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Published: April 6th 2006
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Well, my last day here, with a train booked to Silguri (gateway to Darjeeling and the North Eastern States) for 7.30 this evening. A case of perfect timing. I'm still hugely enjoying Kolkata, but I'm also really looking forward to moving on and getting my first glimpse of the Himalayas. And getting away from this incredible heat. 39 degrees, apparently.
And I still haven't worked out why I like it so much here. I just keep coming back to the word 'charisma'. It's got such a buzz about it - hectic but still, in its own way, very laid back. Full of chancers, but they'll fleece you with a smile. Market traders who will try and sell you your own shoes, but who will at least haggle over the price.
The classic experience was being asked 550 rupees for a tshirt by a dude in the New Market - a good tshirt, but not a 550 rupee tshirt. In fact, in India, I don't think that the 550 rupee tshirt even exists. Charging 550 rupees for a tshirt is pretty much as close as you can get to a mugging without actually pulling out a knife. Anyway, I beat
What happens to your feet...
...when you wear sandals in Kolkata him down to 250 - still an absolute rip off, to be honest, but a decent tshirt and, most importantly, black and in my size.
Just as I paid him, I got descended on by a horde of beggars, and in my rush to get away I totally forgot about the change. Next thing I know, he was chasing after me with my 50 rupee note. Kolkata - and India - in a nutshell. He was prepared to try to charge me five times the going rate for a tshirt, but once we'd settled on a price then he was also prepared to barge his way through the market crowds to make sure I didn't forget my change.
The buildings, as well as the people, have their own charm, too. Like everywhere (apart from Bangalore) they're either half finished, or halfway to falling down, but there's a great mix of decaying old Raj buildings, and then very Indian tenements and shopfronts. Of all the places I've been so far, Kolkata has the strongest imprints of the colonial architecture, including the spectacularly vulgar Victoria Monument - what you'd get if an architect was given a bucketful of cash and
bad artists' impressions of Paul's Cathedral, Buckingham Palace and the Taj Mahal.
In the grounds of the monument, reading my book, I even got stealth snapped. I'm used to people asking to take a picture, but this was a first. Two girls had obviously noticed the fat sweaty tourist, and I could see a few giggles out of the corner of my eye. Then, as casually as she could, one of them came and sat on the bench next to me. Again, as casually as possible, the other one just happened to take a photo.
Thought I might be being a bit arrogant - maybe they really did want a photo of a bench - but then they switched roles, with the photographer handing over the camera and coming to sit next to me. I just laughed and asked if they wanted me to smile for the camera... They still took the photo, but I think that they weren't far from dying of embarassment. What am I going to do when I get back to England and there's no one who wants to introduce themselves to me or take a photo of me, just because I'm white?
The Great Banyan Tree
All one tree. Totally mental. I still can't get over the heat and humidity here. Black tshirts are my new uniform. Although I've worked out that I sweat slightly less if I move at a snail's pace and try not to breathe too heavily, I'm still soaked through within an hour or so of walking. Giving up on the idea of not sweating, I've decided to bow to the inevitable and just find a way of making it less obvious. Black tshirts are the way to go. It's so hot here that even the locals are sweating - some of them fairly spectacularly. This is the first time I've even seen a hint of perspiration, with half the people on the street at any one point mopping their brows with their hankerchiefs.
That said, I'm glad I didn't visit in May. A couple of locals I was chatting too last night (one of whose uncles is, bizarrely enough, a judge in Kingston upon Thames) say that this is cool weather compared to summer. Now I see the attraction of hill stations. Even now its disastrous. Travelling light(ish) means that I've only got five tops. When you can go through three in a day, it's
Mad-faced goat
Lived on the street that I stayed... seemed to move up and down the street depending on what time of day it was. no wonder that I had to make a pitstop in the new market.
Anyway, enough talk of sweat. I'm off to sit in the sun with a book and a mango lhassi, and dream of air conditioned trains and beautifully cool hill stations in the Himalayas. And cups of Darjeeling tea, drunk overlooking Darjeeling. Forget Bangalore and Hampi - I'm over the homesick phase and am back to dreading having to come back to England.
(By the way, Chris - re the comments about my Bangalore whinge... I know that the touts are the classic complaint when it comes to India. Touts I can handle - it's when they're touting in a city as bland and depressing as Bangalore that it starts driving me mad. I wouldn't mind being tricked into a sightseeing tour so much if there were actually any sights to see in the damn place......)
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Chris M
non-member comment
Travelling
I just meant that India is turning you into a traveller! Next thing you know you'll be quoting the Mahabharata and Ramayana, carrying your own bedroll with you and eating for <5Rs a day (with your hand) :) Really glad you are loving it even if I go green everytime I read about your travels!