kolkata

michiko and i have concluded that i will forever smell of old milk.
i have a headache.
and i want my pillow.

you've now been informed of the pressing concerns for the evening.

and so welcome to the second night in kolkata.
to be honest.
we haven't done much.
we're both tired and worn through.
3 weeks was a reasonable time i think.
for india at large that is.
at the pace we have been running and to see as much as we have.
im ready to come home.
ready for home.
or at least find some peace and quiet.
as quiet as baltimore city can be anyway.
it would be a marked improvement over this.
two more days. two more days.
what to do with two more days?
when we've barely survived a half of one.

i suppose i should update.
we arrived yesterday morning to the Sealdah train station and the first odd encounter was the rickshaw.
it was not a cycle construction.
but simply poles.
and pulled by a man.
now.
up to this point we had only encountered cycle rickshaws.
and even then i've felt twinges of guilt as too-thin old men attempted to huff and puff us (and our bags at times) up even the smallest inclinations.
but still.
it is their profession.
and one must work somehow.
at the very least there are no exhaust fumes involved.
(yes in the midst of poverty the environment remains at the forefront of my mind)
rickshaws are also, generally, cheaper than tuk-tuks.
and so our plan (when traveling with more than yourself always discuss pertinent decisions prior to the event and agree on possible scenarios and max pricing or bargaining power will be lost in an instant - this applies particularly to transportation and housing selection)
was to get a hold of a rickshaw (i had already estimated the distance from my map) and make our way to Sudder st - apparently littered with hotels and guesthouses.
we found a man (or rather he found us) agreed on a price and off we went to the rickshaw.
and both froze in confusion when we encountered two poles and no bicycle.

"no bicycle?"
"no cycle madam! this rickshaw!"
and shoved us into the seat.

the entire experience is uncomfortable.
of the inner kind (my butt has long ago gotten used to the lack of suspension on these things) and ive yet to analyze it thoroughly.
and am completely open to some opinions.
but it is.
truly.
still. (again) my primary thought is one must work.
and he will get paid.
in relation to this there is that murky area regarding worth.
i don't believe i have spoken of it - not directly at least.
but it has been on my mind often these past 3 weeks-
in the midst of these men attempting to cheat us.
and even the few who are (possibly) honest about the ride.
we have taken to asking neutral individuals how much a ride will cost before actually attempting to acquire transportation.
but then.
when you're sitting atop a rickshaw as that too-thin greying man wearing too-thin greying clothing is working his joints to the grind and the sweat slicks his hands despite the firm grip on those poles-
you wonder how the hell NYC taxi drivers get paid so damn much-
and the man before me gets 75 cents.
for literally hauling two grown women and their bags 9 km.
not that i would belittle the mental power it takes to drive in New York.
but really.
come on now.

and so.
what do you do?
pay as any local would pay?
not bargain in light of the original overcharged price, just suck it up and pay it knowing you are being cheated (the principle of the matter) because in the end - its still less than 1/2 a latte and this man is working his ass off.
yet how does that affect the grand arena of tourism and the tourists to follow me?
or bargain and then just tip handsomely - in the end giving what he originally asked for but in a roundabout way depending on corresponing guilt levels.
or just because.
while still saving face (and making him aware that you are aware you are being cheated).
so.
what do you do? what do you do?

arrival.
and hunting a hotel.
too many hotels in this place and yet the first 5 we went to were full.
not cool.
lowers bargaining power.
and i could see the other tourists on the streets hunting as well.
so the first place we found that had a large window worked for me (we needed to wash clothes and hence needed a good fan and an open window) despite it's questionable cleanliness (there's something unsettling about extensive smearing of mysterious substances on all 4 walls).
by now i didnt care.
no used condoms or roaches beneath the bed, a large window, working fan, and a western toilet (albeit without a seat and dysfunctional flushing capabilities).
all for the charming price of 250 rupees or $5 a night.
that's shared.
so i'm paying $2.50 for this place.
and aim to not touch the walls.

breakfast.
im trying to remember.
ah.
yes.
breakfast.
somehow.
proved rather difficult to obtain.
by now it was nearly 9 in the morning.
not early at all really.
but too many restaurants were closed and we were starving.
and then we found Flury's.
high end.
with a doorman, waiting list, chandeliers, and manager in tailored suit.
Michiko wanted to run far far away (she doesn't have a job - this is understandable)
but i convinced her otherwise - that it was my bloody vacation, it's like buying breakfast in the states and they take credit cards! (i refuse to exchange more money)
in the end the bill came to 800 rupees (including tip).
this is approximately $14 for long-apron servers.
up to this point our most expensive meal was $4.
(though generally we only pay $1-2 which is again - shared and so i've had many a large filling meal on 50 cents).
we were now living it up in India.
a very different India i had yet to explore.

800 rupees will buy you a BLT (really rather excellent bacon they had there), 3 "American pancakes" (though thank god not American proportions as i have no idea where we would have stuffed it all) with maple syrup (they lie), a mushroom cheese omelette, brewed coffee, lime sugar water, and masala tea.
and toast.

i found the entire thing brilliant really.
the other side. the growing middle class
that up to now i had only come to see in small pieces.
in passing.
aside from my first night stay with a live-in maid present Michiko and i were running across Northern India on a very basic budget.
the thing is - this wasn't a restaurant full of Westerners (a handful at most).
no.
it was all affluent Indians.
their suits, designer bags, laptops, jewels crowding the tables for sandwiches and omelettes and American pancakes.
i had to give the pancakes a thumbs down by the way.
excellent BLT though.
oh wait i said that.
but it was really was delicious!
still.
i was tempted to go into the back kitchen and make proper pancakes.
i am american - watch me carefully!
there is an art to the pancake.

speaking of which.
(and Michiko thinks i'm an idiot.)
it is only on this trip that it occurred to me that the word "pancake"
is a union of the two words "pan" and "cake".
this revelation came to me as i noticed many a menu across India stating "pan cake"
(along with "cheze", "soop", and "french frys")
aha...
thats right.
the AHA! moment.
i am a genius.

after breakfast we walked.
possibly forever.
to the Howrah bridge.
flower market.
as all the guidebooks talk about.
and by the time i got there i didn't give a damn.
had given up actually.
but as we crossed the bridge there it was.
splayed out below us.
and we had an excellent viewpoint.
for photographs we were supposedly not supposed to be taking as we happened to be on the bridge.
even though.
they were not of the bridge!
(perhaps it was a communication glitch with the police man as we are still confused)
though. when they say flowers.
they mean marigolds.
of course.
a million of them.
loose lumpy hills or already in neat chain formation.
the ground littered with orange and yellow puffs.
im somewhat curious as to how the marigold was ever chosen actually.
perhaps ive shared this question before.
its a matter of grave importance i assure you.
another thing to look up.

a bit more wondering and eventually made our way back to the hotel.
ate somewhere unremarkable. dodged store vendors. survived taxis intent on running us over.
etc etc etc.

this is how i have come to feel.
ive reached that point.
etc etc etc.

stay with me just a wee bit longer.

anyway.
that was yesterday.
today we aimed to complete a Mother Teresa tour.
or something of the like.
Blessed Teresa of Calcutta (Kolkata).
came upon the "Mother's House" (which again reminds me - always always ask for directions from three different people and at regular intervals along your route) which
incidentally.
was her home.
and houses her tomb.
also included a somewhat robust exhibition of her life and story of the Missionaries of Charity foundation.
along with a bulletin board of "How to be a good Catholic"
(i did read this, i'm a failure i tell you - but should i admit my numerous failings, sins, etc i, of course, may be brought back into the fold in full submission as the wretched soul that i am)
and the evils of abortion.
am i being snide?
ill add that to my sins.

ahem.
my religions hang-ups aside.
she did some cool shit.
(i'm amusing myself. bear with me.)
and im intrigued by some of her more personal statements (i.e. "the darkness within")
yet another thing to add to my book list.
god.
help me please.

down the street from "Mother's House" is the orphanage.
where we came to learn the following important points:
1) you must be married
2) you must be catholic
3) there is a waiting list
4) there is currently no adoption relationship with the United States or Japan
5) should you care to adopt you must show that you are incapable of having children
because (of course) should you happen to be blessed then you ought to be having your own children (never mind the countless already existing beings that need love and homes around the world)

right then.
good to know.
and we strolled out.

Michiko and i then, after this brief stopover, passed on the idea of going to the home of the sick or "Pure Heart".
i think we were done.
and so we found food, another rickshaw, and returned to our charming temporary dwelling.
i napped.
i have no idea what she did.
but the general point was that we had no desire to do much of anything at all.
and that was perfectly fine by me.

we did eventually venture back out.
walked a wee wee bit. ate some more (we are so so good at that).
drew out our meal over tea as we would back home (to the irritation of the establishment which happened to be turning tables like there was no tomorrow- the more westerners the better!).
michiko and i are parting ways tomorrow.
overall. this has worked out well.
i thought we might kill each other.
or at least want to.
we're best friends.
what else to expect?
but i think we have already come to thoroughly know one other's irritations and quirks.
and developed ways to counter them over the years.
so same interactions.
but different scenery.
and hm - smells.