Kolkata (Calcutta)

I've been putting off writing this blog for the sole reason that I have no idea what to say. How can words possibly capture a place such as Kolkata? It is expansive but with compact zones, diverse whilst somehow cohesive, chaotic yet functional, eye-catching and eye-soring, amusing but frustrating all at once. I spent a lot of my time over the weekend wondering "Do I like this place? Am I having fun here?" I still can't really answer the first question, though though there is definitely a lure to Kolkata. I definitely did have fun, and I can see myself going back. Here we go anyway, a window into the weekend.


A decrepit building, typical of many in Kolkata

Laura and I have a few days off work thanks to India Republic Day, so we take the opportunity to head 400km north to the old British capital of Kolkata (formerly Calcutta). We board an overnight train which is both very cold and very smelling of piss. We both have a terrible night's sleep and stumble blearily off the train into Howrah Railway Station at 8am. It is slightly calmer than I expected in a city of 14 million people, but the place is teeming with life and there is again a familiar smell of human liquid waste.


Busy scenes in Howrah Station

We make our way to our hotel and are delighted to find it is not only sparkling clean, but also has really hot running water (somewhat of a luxury here), helpful staff and a kettle. A kettle! Oh, the joy.

As both of us are booknerds, we quickly decide that our first port of call should be the famous Kolkata Book Fair which happens to taking place this weekend. This is the biggest book fair in Asia and we are both excited to spend a few hours purusing some literature and making some purchases. We arrive at the Fair at 11.15am to be told it doesn't open until 12. And this is where everything starts to go wrong.

The security guard suggests we pay a visit to the nearby Science City to while away the time until the Fair opens. Science City is a somewhat dated interactive science museum with various exhibitions and a large park.


One of the hilariously dated 'exhibits' in the science museum

We make our way there, pay our entry fee, and within FIFTEEN MINUTES Laura realises she is no longer in the company of her wallet. We empty out her bag several times and it is most definitely not in there. Shit.

The next hour is spent with Science City security, who try to persuade us that she must have lost it somewhere outside the entrance. Surely no such thing could happen here, they tell us repeatedly. However, Laura had her wallet at the entry gate and paid her entry fee, so the wallet was definitely disappeared within the confines of Science City. We insist on looking at their CCTV footage which is beyond a joke and then resign ourselves to heading to the police station to get a report. We've only been in Kolkata a few hours and for Laura it's already been a very expensive trip.

The local police station is somewhat hilarious in how maddeningly frustrating and excruciatingly slow everything is. We speak to various different officers and Laura is asked to write out a statement. And then rewrite it. Oh and we will now need a third copy, can you rewrite it again? Now sign here, initial here, give me your father's name. Scribble down the address of your local police station in Bhubaneswar, your age, tell us again what you lost? Your wallet? Oh yeah, I forgot. Okay, fill this in here I'll just go for a wander about - I'll come back in about ten minutes and ask you the same questions over again if you don't mind.

Despite their extraordinary inefficiency, the police are incredibly kind and generous, twice sending someone out to the local market to buy us fresh sweets and drinks. I even learned a few phrases in Bengali from one of the chief officers. Laura reckons my red hair was a real asset as the police simply loved me! About 3 hours later, we leave the station, a stamped report in hand. We are somewhat baffled that we were never asked for a bribe and again thank the lucky red hair.

We now have but one thing on our minds: Books! Pickpocket be damned, we're still heading to the Book Fair.


Entrance to the wonderful book fair

I split the money I have in my wallet with Laura and we spend a lovely ambling afternoon scrabbling through piles of beautiful novels. The Fair is true to its word; it is MASSIVE. Hundreds and hundreds of stalls line the pathways and the selection of books is extremely impressive. I spot Beckett, Joyce and Wilde, very nice to see an interest in Irish authors abroad.


Beckett ahoy!

I buy a copy of Amitav Ghosh's "The Glass Palace" and the heartbreaking and absorbing "City of Joy" by LaPierre. The latter is set in a slum in old Calcutta and was made into a movie many years ago... the upside of this is that I now own a book with Patrick Swayze on the cover. Double bonus. There are also a plethora of local artists at the Fair, showcasing their wares and skills. The paintings are colourful and bold and rather beautiful.


A Bengali artists shows me how it's done

The rest of the day comprises snacks, meanders and eventually a very rich and delicious dinner of BEEF. My first experience of eating beef in India and it is very very good. There is a large Muslim population here in Kolkata so there are fewer taboos about munching into some cow meat.


I thought you might have to see it to beeflieve it (SORRY)

To our horror we discover that India Republic Day is this country's equivalent to Good Friday... nowhere is serving alcohol. After the day we had, a nice mojito would have really hit the spot but alas it is not to be. We instead spend some time in a nearby Kashmiri shop and I exit loaded with some beautiful scarves and shawls. Kolkata is going to eat all my money.

The next morning we are up and atom and decide to walk to the Victoria Memorial. On the map it only looks like this far but in reality it is more like THIS FAR. Turns out the city is massive and the walk takes us about an hour. All the while we concentrate fiercely to avoid falling over broken bricks, torn up pavements, mounds of fly-infested rubbish, plastic bottles, street stalls and the many thousands of legs and feet we pass.


Broken paths everywhere make life as a pedestrian rather trying

Arriving at the Victoria Memorial is a bit like entering another world. The filthy streets give way to immaculately manicured English gardens, irrigated rose bushes, glassy lakes and serenity.


Beautiful flowers in the Memorial gardens

This imposing Memorial was completed by "the Britishers" (I never tire of that wonderful Indianism) in 1921 and has been extraordinarily well-maintained. The inside comprises a well-planned and content-heavy museum which chronologises the arrival of the British to India and the horrors that unfolded thereafter. A series of collections portray the British as pampered, spoiled children, running around India doing as they please, employing the locals for a pittance and generally being very bold indeed. This is a very charming and fascinating museum though admittedly I found the level of detail slightly punishing.


The beautiful Victoria Memorial

Red hair fever is alive and well in this part of town too, as I am approached by several young men keen to take my photograph. I refuse, politely, and they snap my photo anyway. Ah bejaysus. I stalk away grumpily and Laura laughs. It is a bit funny but it tires very quickly.

It is hazily hot now and mid-afternoon, so we take a break in the jungle-esque garden restaurant of the Fairlawn Hotel. This place is a bit magical, as it is in this very spot that Patrick Swayze (here we go again) filmed City of Joy. He stood HERE and HERE and remember when he was over THERE! The food is disappointing but the movie magic (and a very deliciously cold beer) keep the afternoon alive.


A cold Kingfisher takes the edge off any lingering frustration

In the evening we meet with a woman we know through work - she is a development consultant and a native of West Bengal. She has very kindly offered to take us on a stroll and then out to dinner. We visit a tandoori diner which initially excites me; I love food cooked in a tandoor. However, this food is HOT HOT HOT. Seriously the spiciest thing I've eaten in India. It burns! I eat a small plateful of various meats and accompaniments and sip gratefully on a G&T. I admit defeat and return later to the hotel hungry and a bit tipsy.

Saturday morning heralds our last full day in Kolkata. We are both very tired at this stage from walking what must genuinely be very hundreds of millions of miles since our arrival. A quick breakfast and a hot coffee sees us right and we hop into a taxi bound for Kalighat. This is a busy Hindu temple which we are assured is worth a visit. Little do we know that today is a special day of puja, or prayer, and the temple is JAMMERS. We are allowed inside (even with our shoes on!) but warned not to take any photographs. Deal. We giggle delightedly at the spectacle of hundreds of people pushing and shoving their way through doorways and around obstacles. Now THIS is what I expected of Kolkata. It is intensely busy and noisy and the air is heady with perfumed incense. We spot the niche where goats are ritually slaughtered every morning. The floor is thick with blood and women are chopping up various limbs and organs, preparing for lunch.


Wonderfully colourful building near Kalighat

The windy streets outside the temple are thronged with various stalls selling a huge amount of junk and tack. People are EVERYWHERE and it is enough to simply walk around in complete bemusement, marvelling at how many people can be crammed into one space. This is about as 'authentic' as Kolkata gets.


Mad markets full of junk and trinkets

From one end of the authenticity spectrum to the other we go, now bound for the South City Mall. This is a colossal shopping centre, similar to Dundrum Shopping Centre. It is brimming with western-style clothes shops and even some familiar names, including Marks & Spencers, Accessorize and The Body Shop. Sadly the Body Shop prices are just as ludicrous here as they are in Ireland. You may be wondering why we came to such a westernised place, but trust me, if you lived in Bhubaneswar for 5 months you could be craving this kind of a place! Here we can also buy imported cheese and international wine - however again the prices are extraordinarily prohibitive. €9 for 200gm cheddar? €18 for a bottle of Chilean wine that I happen to know is shit? Really? We make a few token purchases but really just enjoy the open-plan space and how clean everything is.

Lunchtime finds us on a rooftop, enjoying a beer and some Indian food for lunch. From here we have a perfect view of the maelstrom that is New Market. Wandering in the front door you are assaulted by an incredible range of shopping opportunities. Do you fancy some fresh flowers, dried fruit, powdered spices, packaged tea, sparkley clothes, handwoven scarves, silver jewellery or even some live chickens or mystery meat on hooks? It is all here, ladies and gentlement, but you really need to fight you way through the pushy sellers to find what you want. Laura buys some Darjeeling tea and I purchase some silver jewellery from two Kashmiri merchants who astonish me by asking "Conas ata tu?" People here will go to great lengths to charm a tourist!



The day winds to a close as we have some very awful chocolate cake and tasteless coffee in the over-hyped Flurys, and we settled into the hotel room and have a glass of wine to toast our last night in Kolkata. It has been a manic few days and we sleep soundly before the alarm bleats at 5am to rouse us. The journey back to Bhubaneswar is pockmarked by VERY LOUD INDIAN PEOPLE, including hijras or transvestites, who clap obnoxiously loudly in people's faces and demand money. A surprising amount of people cough up too, passing coins into the masculine, chiffon-clad hands. Apparently the giving of money to hijras wards off any bad luck that you might incur from not giving them money. Or something. India, you are a confusing sort.

To sum up, this blog has been as long and rambling as the streets of Kolkata. I recommend going there but bring your patience, your sense of humour and for the love of Kali watch out for your wallet.