Never uploaded the stuff from the India trip last year. Oops. Better late than never though I suppose. Unfortunately I wrote nothing in Hyderabad, below are my writings from Kolkata though..
October 14 2010: Morning after Arrival
Arrived in Kolkata last night. Twas about 18 hours of flight time with a two hours layover in Frankfurt. I knew that I was in Asia from the moment that I stepped of of the plane. Was that same feeling that I have grown to love, where mundane things are just different enough to be noticeable. The stairs from the plane to the tarmac; metallic with treads of a pattern that I haven't seen before. The bus from the plane to immigration, simple, without the criss-crossed benches that maximize seating surface are in the buses that I am used to. Immigration, my first interaction with India was in a large tiled room containing informational signs that made little sense and lines of people organized by ethnic group. I got in line with the white folks (officially entitled 'Foreign Passport Holders') and waited for about an hour to get my stamp of approval to enter the country. This was eventually done without too much hassle.
Next task was to procure my luggage. No big deal, just had to find a way to muscle up to the conveyer belt through a barricade of people and luggage carts. I would make a wrongheaded comment here about how Indians can be ruthless in their positioning at baggage claim, but I have now travelled to the American East Coast enough to know that this is not an especially Indian trait. While offensive to my polite-to-a-fault Seattle seinsibilities, I know now that most people are as outwardly pushy as we Seattle folks are in our own minds. My bag was out pretty early on. If I were going to stoop to such barbarity, I figured I should at least act like a good guest, so I made a point to climb over Europeans (probably Germans) to fetch it. Get some Hilga. Customs were non-existant. I signed a small slip of paper that said that I had nothing to declare and headed for the door.
In Kalkota you are not allowed in the airport unless you actually have a ticket. Also there is to driveway like you see in most American airports. There is just a single door that opens up to a huge open parking lot. It's at this door that everyone (including Deena in this case) waits for the passenger that they are there to pick up. The result for a jet-lagged growing-culture-shock traveler like me was a massive wall of Indian faces peering into the door in anticipation of being reunited with loved ones just in time for the holidays. I could see this wall from a few yards inside the door and my heart jumped. That's India out there. My instructions were to walk outside and find Deena. I moved through the crowd, with what I'm sure was an overwhelmed look on my face. I was looking for a sign made by Deena's driver calling for 'Mr. Ledger' but spotted her first. Wasn't so tough. She was the white person.
It was about mid-night by this time. We were driven into the city to our hotel. Took about 45 minutes. I love that first impression of a new (to me) country from the inside of a car. India was zipping past. The lights, honking traffic, groups of people, and dogs all seemed so new. It's puja time here in Kolkata, what I am referring to in my mind as 'Kokata Xmas', so there are stings of lights everywhere, adding additional texture to an already colorful landscape.
Not going to say anything about the hotel other than that it's a British-build colonial piece of crap. Had a nice mixed western/Indian breakfast.
Now it's time to head out for my first real exposure. Can't. Wait.
October 14 2010: First Impression
Holy cow. (Funny joke.) Just got back to the hotel after a walk through the streets around here. Honestly I don't know what to say. A whirlwind of human activity. Vendors line the streets and alleys selling clothes, watches, packaged goods, cooked and raw foods, cigarettes, picture frames, etc. etc. etc.
It's hot. Not to everyone else but to me. I came back covered in sweat.
India reminds me of China only in the scale of the humanity and in the fact that I am an obvious mark for vendors trying to lure foreign money into their shops. No thank you no thank you no thank you.
It is the end of day 2. Here's how our time in Kolkata goes. Leave room, elevator plays sleepy chamber music, empty lobby is of clean white tile, hotel employees greet with 'sir' and 'madame', out through the security gates, thousands of people on the sidewalk, merchants line the streets and shout, cars lean on their horns, I begin to sweat, beggars single me out, push our way to our destination, eat something delicious, push back toward our hotel, still surrounded by thousands of people, back through the security gates, volume and commotion drops by 95%, back up to the room, peel off sweat-soaked clothes, deep breathe, watch bad American movie on TV, repeat.
Our hotel (Little Britain) is a little refuge from India. I must say, with the jet lag and the need for some relaxation It's nice to be able to turn off the swirling mass. It's not that I don't love Kolkata. I do. But it's a lot. A. Lot.
We made two excursions from the LB today. First was a walk to a cluster of restaurants on Park Street. This was more of a recon mission. We weren't really that hungry. We pushed through about a mile of vendors selling mostly clothing and hung a left onto Park. Park Street is a broader side street than I have see so far, with wide sidewalks. Many shops here were closed for the holiday, but there was still a decent amount of activity. In an attempt to prevent total soakage, we ducked into a coffe/pastry shop that had AC. We had tea, bottled water, and lime soda. I also ended up with some British-style cucumber sandwiches. (white bread, cucumbers, butter, no crust, gross) We were totally ignored by the waiter, but had a blast anyway. On the way back we stopped for the real shit. A Kolkata-style 'egg roll' purchased from a booth hanging off of a larger restaurant. An eg roll here is a doughey shell with an egg fried onto it with raw sliced onion, spices, and two kinds of spicy red sauces. So. Awesome. My favorite Indian food so far.
Second excursion was for lunch/dinner. We identified a place that was relatively close, on the ninth floor of an Indian-style hotel. The pitch was that it was rooftop dining with a unique view of New Market. We walked into the lobby-less hotel to find one of the smallest (and sketchies elevators that I have ever seen. We went for it, pressed 9, and waited to see where we ended up. We found ourselves in a very small restaurant, occupied by equal parts tourists and locals. They wouldn't let us eat on the patio for some unclear reason, but we did have a great view of the city out of the large window next to our table. Deena ordered for us, some seasoned potatoes and very spicy paneer. I also ordered a King Fisher, which came out as a 22 instead of the 12oz bottle that I was expecting. The food was great, and we stepped out onto the patio before we left to get a view of the city. No point in describing the view. Pictures are attached. After taking a few photos from the rooftop dining area occupied only by an older chain-smaking American couple, we started back. By this time the crowd was in full swing. We decided to grab a masala tea and some Bengali sweets before going back to the hotel. Even in this heat, we are loving our regular stops for tea. It's served hot in small clay cups. You stand on the sidewalk and sip it, then throw away the cups when you're done. By this time I was hitting a wall in the jet lag dept. The loop to the sweets shop and back to the hotel was reminiscent of 30 minutes on LSD. I was sleep deprived, culture shocked, a bit drunk, on a sugar+caffeine rush from the tea, recovering from a crazy-spicy dinner, and surrounded by what seemed like millions of shouting Indians. Hence the title, Swirling Mass. What a great vacation.
October 17, 2010: Durga Puja
One of the most important holidays of the year for Kolkata has been going on this week. The Durga Puja is a five day festival where locals construct temporary temples around the city in order to house an idol that portrays Shiva. They dress up in new clothes and spend nights going from temple to temple to worship and enjoy each other's company. These temples can be huge and elaborate, and the government hands out awards for skill in construction. The week culminates on the last night of the festival where everybody loads there idol into a truck and puts it into the river.
Deena and I ventured out at about 5pm to witness this event. We had a general idea as to the direction in which the idol-into-the-river event would take place so we just started walking. After a few blocks it became evident the we were on the right track, as we found ourselves in a huge flow of foot traffic all moving in one direction. We followed the crowd, passing makeshift stalls of street food along busy streets and muddy footpaths through the Maidan (an open park.) Large trucks packed with people shouting and playing drums began to sped passed us toward the river with increasing frequency, their neighborhood Shiva idols displayed prominently behind the cab. Every so often one was parked at the side of the road for a quick dancing break. As we approached the Hooghley river, there was clearly method to the madness, although it was not clear based our lack of puja experience. Dozens of trucks sat in line waiting for their turn to soak their idol, and all were still overflowing happy-dancing people, shouting and singing. It was quite a party. We found our way onto a footpath right against the river and tried to position ourselves in a such a way to actually witness idols going into the river. This is where the fact that there were 1 million+ people in attendance began to work against us. Wended up not so close to the actual dunking, but I was fine conceding the good seats to the locals who actually knew what was going on.
We were worried that without the massive crowd to follow it may be a bit tough to find our way back, so we left a little early. I got the impression that we were leaving with the women and children, and that the men would be staying for some time to come. The crowd (mostly young men at this point) was still pouring in as we were leaving. There was one point in particular where we were crossing a street at one of the few respected walk/don't walk signs that I have seen here, where we found ourselves facing a wall of people at the other end of the crosswalk. Deena grabbed my arm as to not be swept away by this giant wave of several hundred people with ear-to-ear smiles. It was an amazing energy.
We made it back to the hotel, our only problem that I was once again soaked in sweat from the humidity, and took a deep breath. I feel like every time I leave the Western compound that is the Oberei Grand, it's an intense experience of sight, smell and sound. This little walk was the most intense yet.
On to Hyderabad.
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