India day 2

This shit ain't easy. My eyes and ears have seen and heard a lot today and my feet are fucking tired. Extremely tired just doesn't sound right. I need to hide away in my hotel room for an hour or two. I feel refreshed after a cold shower and drying myself with a towel that smells a lot like bleach and a little like piss. I’m sitting naked in a brown plastic chair listening to the taxis and motorcycles honk and battle it out for street position. I’m glad I’m not walking among them right now.

The keyboard in the first internet cafe. Recycled from 1990? Not complaining, it had a story in those keys.

I woke up this morning with the intention of possibly changing hotel rooms. I’m paying 600 Rs (rupees) or US$12 for a decent single room. Certainly nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable and relatively clean. I decided to check out the Hotel Maria, a budget place down the road that seemed to be quite popular among backpackers and I thought it might be a good place to meet some folks and get some advice regarding travel in this vast country.

As soon as I saw the room, there was no way in hell I was going to take it. It was 250 Rs (US$5) and I’m just too old to do that to myself. Walls looked like they were rotting, two dingy single beds and part of the wall was just a curtain made with old sheets. And they shared a bathroom with numerous other rooms. A couple in another room noticed that this room was available and immediately ‘claimed’ it and the manager offered me their room instead.

The $5 prison cell at the Hotel Maria. No thanks.

I had already decided against the place, but I wanted to see this room in comparison. The bearded and long locked guy inside shook his head and whispered Don’t do it and proceeded to show me all the red bumps on his hand, presumably from sleeping on a dirty mattress ridden with bed bugs. Fuuuuuuuuck that. I've been there before and it's not something I want to experience again. EVER.

So it's safe to say I’m still at the Pioneer Hotel and happily paying 600 Rs. After this ordeal and nearly sweating through my t-shirt at just after nine in the morning, I decided to change into a tank top. It's hard to apply sunscreen to an already sweaty surface. My next aim was to purchase an Indian sim card and after nearly an hour of waiting and signing my name over and over and over, it was mine. These little things seem to take so much time and fortunately I have time to kill.

Street on the way to my hotel. I took this picture and a local resident angrily asked 'You have permission to take picture here?' to which I scoffed and mumbled something like 'Fuck you bitch.'

I walked around a bit. I got a glass of fresh orange juice for 20 Rs (US$0.40) and walked around some more, ultimately settling on a sidewalk cart selling coffee, chai, yogurt, omelets, curry, chapattis and more. A small glass of chai was delicious and only 5 Rs (US$0.10). A small bowl of fresh yogurt was 10 Rs (US$0.20). I ended up chatting with some folks who've been in India for a few months and I slowly began to warm up to this place.

Not hungry, but wanting to sample more, I ordered a two egg omelet for 14 Rs (US$0.28). The guy diced a chili and a small onion and threw them into the eggs, whipped them up and poured the mixture  into the pan over the burning coals. The vegetable curry was 10 Rs (US$0.20) and each chapatti was only 2 Rs (US$0.04). It was good and I was stuffed and away I went for less than a buck with a bloated belly.

I wandered. I went down Park Street. I bought a map, finally, and found a cafe in which I could unfold it. It was the size of Texas. There was no way I was going to stand on the street holding this map looking like a lost tourist. I got a vague idea of my immediate plan. Take the metro to near College Street, wander by Calcutta University, check out this coffee shop and then walk to the nearby Hugli River and take a gander at the supposedly rather impressive Howrah Bridge.

Well, I took the metro and the rest is history. The metro was fast and efficient, but honestly I felt like it could have been 1960. I never found Calcutta University or the coffee shop, but it was just as well since I didn't really want a coffee. I wandered by some other universities and asked numerous people who pointed me in this or that direction. And I never made it to the Hugli River either, seems the map wasn't quite to scale.

Along the way, I indulged in some fresh watermelon and papaya mixed with a dash of salt and served on some leaves for 10 Rs (US$0.20). I dodged a cow running across the street and I walked into an area where people seemed genuinely surprised to see me. I chugged a couple of mixed fruit shakes. Grapes, pomegranate, papaya and something else for 10 Rs(US$0.20) a glass. I kept going, dodging cow shit along the way.

Some kids started talking to me. I stopped to chat and more people stopped to see what the ‘commotion’ was about. There was no commotion, just a tall white guy ‘lost’ in Kolkata. One kid started to do a hand stand down the sidewalk. Impressive. I engaged them a little. They were nice and wanted me to take a picture. More people were watching. I told them I didn’t have my camera, wanting to take a picture, but not wanting to take it out of the bag. This guy I had spoken to before the kids came up to me, came back out of nowhere and said Go as he looked into my eyes. Huh? Goooo. That was enough for me and I just walked away never once glancing back.

I was really tired at this point and just wanted to get back to the comfortable area near my hotel. Everyone stared at the white guy, that or politely gave me the sideways head bob. The weirdest fucking method of acknowledgment I’ve ever experienced, but I guess it’s preferable to a complete stare down. Or just laughter, which I mostly tended to ignore and muttered Look at you to myself. I’m grumpy now and it’s hard to smile anymore.

I found a metro station eventually and found out it was ‘broken’ so I ran back upstairs to find a bus. They were all packed and proceeded so slowly, I figured it might be just as fast to walk. Easier than trying to get on one and deal with that shit. There will be another day for the bus! I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to splurge for a taxi. Tired of walking. But they were all occupied too. The streets were also packed, but I seemed to be managing them well, despite nearly getting hit by the occasional motorcycle.

A car turned a corner and a dog yelped. The car kept going, but the dog didn’t. It shook on the ground and blood pooled out of his mouth onto the pavement. People noticed and were affected, as I was, but there was nothing to do. I turned back and the dog still shook, but I moved on as did the mass of humanity. It stays in your head for a while, but slowly fades as you effectively fight for your own survival just walking down the street.

I tried some lentils. I hadn't been hungry all day, but this massive pan of dal looked delicious. Enough people were standing around eating so I thought that was a good sign. 8 Rs (US$0.16) for more than I wanted. Just adding more fuel to the fire I thought and hurriedly made my way closer to the Esplanade continuing to dodge pedestrian and vehicular traffic. Almost there.

Finally, I recognized Hartford Lane and sighed a deep sigh. Turned in on the home stretch and was happily home. My home for now anyway. If home is where the heart is, my home is in Southeast Asia. For sure. I walked by a few chai stands and one guy caught my eye, said something and started pouring me one before I could refuse. He opened a tin of biscuits and handed me two and I sat on the long low bench on the other side of the street taking small sips of the amazing brew until he poured me another.

I don’t think I’ll be in Kolkata for much longer. This place is alright, but it ain’t my cup of tea. Aside from the chai I’ve encountered. I might say that everywhere I go, but I won’t know until I experience it. I’ve heard you either love India or you hate it. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a hater, but I’m trying to open up to it. I love the food, that much is true, but will I love anything else? Remains to be seen.