Kolkata

• Our train arrived on time, which was refreshing. When we got off and went to the prepaid taxi booth, we were hassled pretty heavily by the drivers to go with them, which is usual. By this point, we had gotten used to it and ignored them, but we’d break every once in a while and start repeating “no!” at them. Kolkata is the intellectual capital of India, and it shows; a smiling taxi driver enjoyed A.J.’s chorus of “no!,” but decided to give him a quick education. As he turned to walk away, the driver corrected A.J., explaining that “It’s pronounced nay!” Thanks.
• No other city had as many yellow taxis as Kolkata, and we later found out that this was due to a recent supreme court decision to ban autorickshaws due to emissions. We took a taxi to the hotel, dropped our stuff off after waking up the poor hotel employees, and took another taxi to Chowringhee street, which had the majority of the tourist attractions we would be visiting.
• We made our way down a few streets by foot looking for a cheap eat recommended for breakfast in our Lonely Planet book. The food was amazing and cheap, and we even had the pleasure to have the largest beetle I have ever seen bless the floor with its presence. I learned that of the three of us, I am the only one disturbed by insects larger than my pinky.
• Making our way back to Chowringhee street, we entered the Indian museum, the largest museum in India, and one of the oldest in the world. Exhibits included animal skeletons, rocks, paintings, insect and animal replicas, and an awesome room containing dioramas of the major cultures of India.
• We walked away from the main drag, which was a tourist trap larger than any one we had seen before. Along our walk, we were approached by several men that talked us up convincing us to go to their store a few blocks away. One even told us that we looked like we were from California (LA specifically), and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that’s not a compliment. At a major intersection, A.J. darted across and left us in the dust. Meredith and I tried to stick together, but she screamed “BUS!” at some point and ran back to the sidewalk. I was stuck between a bus and a trolley, and had a bus driving at me. Luckily, I was in my predicament with a natural problem solver, who slapped the side of the bus blocking us as we walked around it, dodging other traffic until we made our way across. Meredith had an easier time, luckily.
• Heading to a quieter part of town, we ate at an indo-chinese restaurant that wasn’t as good as one I tried in New York, but was still a good mix of Indian and Chinese foods.
• After lunch, we tried Bengali desserts—Roshgulla (soft cheese balls in a sugary syrup, less floury than gulab jamun) and Sandesh (finely ground cheese and seeds forming a dense Halva-like texture). A child tried to grab my dessert box, but I showed him it was empty, which seemed to be good enough for him to leave me alone.
• We then walked back toward the middle of town and walked for a while along the park. We made our way to the Victoria memorial, which was closed by the time we made it. We walked around the park for a while, and stopped by an open-air concert with an amazing female vocalist. We then continued on, looking for the english-language water/light show as night fell. We were told that for some reason it wasn’t happening tonight, but as we left disappointed, we saw the beginning of a 5-minute version of the show. It was nice to sit down, and while we didn’t get a history of Kolkata, it was a good break.
• Arguing for lower rates from taxi drivers, we went down a line of taxis asking each one for a better rate until we were happy, and headed back for the hotel. It was too late to get a good fish dish, which disappointed me, since Debmalya told me the fish would be amazing. We got some tea near the hotel instead, and enjoyed our assortment of crackers back at the hotel. We made final packing plans, as the next morning we would get in a taxi and head off to the airport.
• We woke up crazy early, and got to the Kolkata airport with plenty of time to spare. Security is about as dumb as it gets—you first scan your bag, which is wrapped with easy-to-subvert plastic ties, and then carry the bag to the ticket coutner, where it is (presumably) not scanned again. At least the US has something right—scan the bag after the person carrying it no longer has possesion of it. Oh well.
• Flew to Mumbai (2 hours) and grabbed our bags at the super-futuristic Mumbai domestic airport. It’s actually not quite so super-futuristic, but Thomas Freidman tries to convince everyone it is. Good for him—it’s clear he’s only ever been to Mumbai and Bangalore:)
• We said our sad goodbyes to A.J., who told me I smelled as I hugged him goodbye. Turns out he had a pretty annoying experience coming back: first he almost got duped by a taxi driver while trying to see Mumbai proper, only to turn around and head back to the airport, and then got to Delhi for his flight to JFK early only to hear the the Delhi flight left 1.5 hours BEFORE it was supposed to take off to avoid fog. After much arguing, he got on a different flight home, which took him through Belguim. Poor guy spent over 48 hours in some kind of transport state before getting home.