I am forcing myself to write this post before I go to bed
because I do not want to forget any of today but since I am so tired I am not
making any promises of grammatical correction.
Day 3
Today was our third day in Kolkata and by far the most
overstimulating to the senses. First thing in the morning we all woke up and
had a “light” breakfast (the quotes are there because light apparently
constitutes cereal, toast, omelets, boiled eggs, coffee, tea, and fruit. I am
actually slightly frightened to think of what a heavy breakfast is. Side note
#1, the milk is served hot here with cereal) and then headed out for our first
walking tour of Kolkata. The day was surprisingly cool, probably only in the
mid 80s or early 90s and there was a slight breeze. This does not mean,
however, that the humidity had let up. Last night there was a violent monsoon
(which I slept through but Stacey assures me that it was impressive) which had
left the ground wet and the air thick. A quick word about Indian humidity:
Imagine that you are in a sauna, then imagine that there are 15 humidifiers in
the sauna with you, and just for good measure imagine that there is a hose
misting you off. That is India. The air hangs heavy and immediately when I step
out of my air conditioned room my body is covered in a layer of water. There is
no concept of “being dry” in India.
Moving on to the walking tour itself. The guide met us on the
side of a street that was an off-branch of a main road and as we piled out of
the car and looked around it became apparent that this tour was going to give
us a real view of the city, not a disenchanted one. The guide was dressed in a
red American printed T-shirt, dark wash jeans, and bright red Crocks and he
teased us for our sleepy demeanors. As we talked with him, two girls with no
shoes on and too small clothing slowly circled our group: the first of many
people who were both intrigued by us and hoping to make some money off of our
naiveté. We set off in what
appeared to be no particular direction and made it no further than a block away
before we stopped by a water spigot that had two men by it. One man was filling
up a gallon of water while the other was waiting nearby with a large black bag.
Our guide explained to us that the bag was made of goat skin and, as the man
kneeled and began to scoop water in the bag from the provided bucket in order
to increase the filling rate from that of the hose alone, he continued to say
that he delivered water to families who did not live by a water source. Water
in India only flows from certain areas at designated times, one of the many
things that I am learning I take for granted in America. Following along the
theme of getting fresh goods delivered to ones house, about five minutes later
a man with three goats passed by us on the way to houses that receive fresh
(about as fresh as you can get) morning goat milk. We passed through a Buddhist
temple and several other landmarks but the next event that really sticks out in
my mind was when we went to the Chinese market.
The market is on a street that used to be owned by Chinese
businesses and still today there is a Chinese influence. The street was the
picture of organized chaos; vendors shouted their wares while buyers passed by
with an appraising eye. There were flower vendors, people making fresh food,
fish being skinned, chickens being slaughtered, motorcycles passing through; my
head felt like it was going to fly off from looking back and forth so many
times. As much as I was looking at the people around me, it was nothing like
how we were being looked at.
Side Note #2, staring. Not only is it painfully obvious that I
am foreign, I am also 5’10’’, blonde, blue-eyed and was traveling with 8 other
women on a street that was predominantly male in a country where the average
height for women is 5’ tall. As we passed by, all heads jerked in our direction
and gazes that should have been passing glances locked onto us. I can now say
that the sight of my group and I has literally stopped people in their tracks.
This is not, however, the staring of adoration as I am sure celebrities are
used to. No. This is the kind of staring that people in America would do if a group
of aliens walked down the street. Their faces pass so quickly from intrigue, to
curiosity, to amazement, and even to disgust on some; I cannot help but feel
like some sort of strange animal in a zoo. I have never noticed how anonymous I
am in America, but I am beginning to long for the days when my every action
doesn’t feel so scrutinized.
The tour continued on and we went through a staggering number
of different houses of worship. This is one of the many amazing things of
India: even through there is such apparent wealth disparity and social issues,
it is truly a secular country. There is no discrimination based on religion,
which was demonstrated by the fact that the caretakers of one of the cities
oldest synagogues are all Muslim. Along the way we sampled several different
types of traditional food with mixed reviews and continually wiped our dripping
foreheads. The streets of India are, like most things here, unlike anything I
have ever seen. There is trash on every corner and in every gutter and rotting
fruit peels line the sidewalks, which have a noticeable absence of trashcans. Maybe
it is the humidity or the heat but for some reason I felt like the smells were
amplified in India to a level that I had never experienced before. The smell of
the rain storm that had recently happened with mixed in with that of smoke,
pollution, cooking food, unwashed bodies, spices, and wet dirt all hung heavy
in the air. Thankfully, the slight breeze in the air kept it from being
completely stagnant and we walked along in relative comfort. After 5 hours we
bid our tour guide goodbye and took a several hour rest period in the house.
Later on in the evening we decided to go grocery shopping for
some items and many of the girls needed to buy some heat appropriate pants and
shirts. First we headed to the Ganga (Ganges) river to see what it looked like
right before sunset. As we strolled down the path (accompanied by the usual
amount of staring) I couldn’t help but notice the difference between this place
and that of the streets we were walking just hours before in the same city. The
area by the river was free of trash and there were even (surprisingly)
trashcans. It is obvious that the reconstruction has been recent especially
because when Tierney tried to use the restroom she was told that it would be
“finished in 2-4 days”. The people who were taking an evening stroll were also
obviously of a totally different class than those we saw earlier. The contrast
between the half naked men who were literally bathing in street water and these
elegantly clothed women who walked arm in arm with their tailored husbands was
astonishing.
Our last stop of the day was a mall in South Kolkata and if I
thought the contrast between the Ganga and our tour was vast, I was in for a
surprise. The mall was immaculate and the florescent lighting made everything
look new and appealing, just as any mall that I would visit in a nice area of
the US. Five floors boasted a plethora of shops, some with traditional American
wears such as Nike and some with traditional Indian garb. The girls combed
through the pants and tunics while the boys aimlessly wandered and, I am sure,
cursed us silently. After picking out several outlandish looking pairs of pants
that I can only describe as and have officially dubbed “Printed and Colorful (Disney)
Princess Jasmine Pants” we headed to the basement to pick up some food. In
“Spencers” we raked the shelves for necessary toiletries and food but the line
(crowd really) at the checkout/exit was beyond shocking.
Sidenote #3. Personal space. It doesn’t exist in India. At
all. People will stand directly behind you in line, in elevators, in escalators,
at the counter, when walking, and all without a second thought. Cutting in line
is appropriate and it is every man for himself when it comes to getting from
place to place as fast as you can. I couldn’t help but think that walking in
the Indian mall was incredibly similar to the drivers on the Indian streets
except for the fact that the people lacked horns.
After the mall we went back to the house, ate dinner, and
crashed. It is now past midnight and I am so ready to go to sleep. Tomorrow we
fly to New Delhi and I can’t wait to see the famous Taj Mahal! Hopefully I will get around to pictures soon...
Until Next Time!
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