Superstar
Trip Start
Sep 06, 2006
1
14
42
Trip End
Ongoing
Kolkata,
India
Saturday, November 4, 2006
The 28 hour train ride from Chennai to Kolkata was not are grueling as anticipated. Granted I did finish reading an entire book, read most of the Lonely Planet India chapters on northern India, and exhausted my iPod charger and backup charger. However, the constant flow of milky, sweet chai and finger foods consisting of samosas and veggie curry did help keep me sane
Babu Ghat
. The trains are surprisingly efficient, comfortable, and relaxing despite the chaos that awaits outside.Upon arriving at Howrah train station, a teeming organism of children, porters, and passengers encircles us as we walk out into the exhaust riddled air of Kolkata. The afternoon sun ablaze framed in a cloudless azure sky hangs above as we navigate the masses. Yellow taxis are lined up along the edge of the station and immediately the touts spot the white faces and move in before the sun has even had an opportunity to hit your face. However, being a diligent Lonely Planet scholar prepared me for the opportunity to use my knowledge and walk through them with a firm "no thank you" and a beeming satisfied smile to the prepaid taxi stand meters away. There we paid the standard fair minus all the haggling and got a taxi ready to take off immeidately. While loading our bags we met a fellow traveler who wanted to join us in our journey through the vehicle choked streets of Kolkata to Sudder St.
The afternoon sun beat down on the pavement and metal as we sat tucked into our ancient yellow cab. Navigating Kolkata traffic is an art I will never understand as the temperment required is beyond even my wildest imagination. The smog belching buses will themselves smaller as they squeeze in between the pedestrians weaving in between the vehicles
chai vendor
. The cars move along like a colony of ants at top speeds making believe they can squeeze even between the tiniest crack in the street flow. Things creep along and then suddenly bursts of speed from unexpected corners of your vision erupt even as pedestrians are walking self assured on the brink of a hospital visit. However, we finally arrive at Sudder St. and after exhausting several hotel options we follow the advice of a tout and find a nice quiet place that smells of disinfectant and soap on a side alley.As we are all famished we go out for a Bengali bite to eat and then head to the Maidan Park to see what's going on with the world of cricket taking in the sights as we go. Cricket matches are peppered across all available lawns amongst lounging couples, pony riders try to convince us we need rides, goat herds with herders in tow navigate the sidewalk, and ice cream carts cater to overheated walkers. Sihks' fly kites while saried women demand alms and the spectacle continues on and on. Several people help us along the way and the city opens its arms to embrace us.
As we head towards the Victoria Memorial at the southern end of the park, we are suddenly stopped by a self assured couple of boys in their early 20s. They are dressed in matching trendy Italian fashions with well groomed hair and armed with a battery of questions
entrance steps to Victoria Memorial
. I am a bit stunned and answer their questions one after the other. "Where are you from?" "What do you think of India?" "How long have you been here?" I of course am looking for the scam, the loop hole asking me for money, or a possible distract-and-snatch-my-camera strategy. However, it never comes and satisfied with my answers they point me towards the Victoria Memorial and move on.After at least a dozen or so "no thank you"s, we get to the grand marble building commemorating the British power in India during the colonial era. After paying our inflated foreigner fee to enter, we walk along the manicured garden grounds amidst a see of women in bright saris and men in starched button up shirts. Along the way we get many looks and stares that are much more than casual glances. Several minutes before entering the building grounds an attractive man in his early 20s playing cricket had left his match to run up to me. With his right hand pressed against my chest and his face inches away from mine he said, " You are very handsome." I was so shocked with this statement that I said "what" at least 3 times.
After browsing the British era marble halls with an entourage in tow staring at me making me a bit self conscious, I went outside to take a break on the front steps. A family came up to us with their young children and asked for a picture. We of course obliged, flattered at the gesture. Several minutes later a group of young men came up and asked the same thing. This happened continuously as we walked the grounds accidentally making eye contact. Eye contact apparently means "Please come over and take a picture with us." Feeling a bit on the spot we decide to take a rest in the gardens behind the memorial building. Several groups of young men position themselves strategically around us and begin to whisper and stare
hibiscus vendor at Kali Ghat
. Finally one group approaches us and begins talking to us. At this point I am on the edge of my seat as to why they are so desperate to talk to a small group of dirty whities. It turns out all of them are from Bihar and taking the exam for customer service that is outsourced from the US by various corporations. As this one group is talking to us other groups get up the courage to apprach us and within minutes we are surrounded by a gaping chatting mass of 20 something men in button up shirts vying for our attention. After 5 minutes they begin whipping out pens and notepads. I am confused as they present these to me. They ask for my autograph. YES my autograph. I am confused and humbled beyond belief as I have done nothing to receive such treatment. This is punctuated by statements declaring my handsome face and well chosen haircut. My ego is swelling and the group is stirring around us they gaze at my poor penmanship.We finally break free and wander the streets stunned, but not without several more picture and autograph requests. We retire for a thali dinner and a frosty Fisher beer while laughing at the the ridiculous and random nature of being in India.
So India has received me with open arms and as of today is being good to me. I might like it here a bit too much for my own good.
Thanks for reading.
Comments
exhausting to be adored
i mean i already KNEW i was famous in the US, but my heightened fame in india came as somewhat of a surprised to be as well.
it does get a bit wearing though when at least 25 strangers a day want to know your good name and where you're from.
that's the price you pay for international adulation, i suppose.