day 22 – today i made another early start and walked up to observatory hill again. this time i went to a different part of the hill and took photographs around the hindu temples. it was quite foggy but lots of people were there to pray and make offerings for good fortune. after walking back i went to a restaurant for a big breakfast. i ate eggs, sausage, bacon, tomato, toast and tea … for three dollars. i also bought a book “awakening the sleeping buddha” by the twelfth tai situpa – a famous buddhist and author.
after breakfast i checked out of the hotel and got a share jeep back to siliguri. i was their first customer, so i had to sit in the jeep for about 30 minutes while they drove around town and found other passengers. after that, it was a long winding ride down through the mountains.
i arrived in siliguri during a workers’ protest march. the streets were crowded with people marching and chanting. apparently they were from farming communities and were protesting for better conditions. many marchers carried red flags with the famous hammer and sickle symbol that is synonymous with communist movements. my rickshaw weaved through the crowds and marchers, taking me on a slow, noisy route to the train station.
in the darjeeling hotel, i swapped my book about burma for another book by triple j’s sarah macdonald called “holy cow”. it’s an autobiography about her travels and adventures in india. i started reading the book on the train to kolkata.
from my diary:
for the past two days i kept crossing paths with two european girls. we walked the same path from ghoom to darjeeling, i saw them in town, and strangely, i saw them again in siliguri – in the waiting room for the same train to kolkata. while they were sitting there, filling out postcards, a young indian guy came and talked to them. they (the girls) were polite but disinterested. they guy’s friends were watching, pointing and secretly taking photos. i’m sure they thought he was a big man for talking to the girls.
indian men are arrogant pricks. indians hate western men looking at indian girls. yet all indian men think western women are sluts and easy to fuck. i just know these guys were talking about how much they’d like to fuck the western girls. indian men are born into a culture with a deep rooted sense of male superiority. women, without a man, are worthless. the entire country is backward and morally primitive. every day i spend in india i see more and more men who are lazy, fat, stupid and incredibly hypocritical … it took a lot of restraint for me not to say anything.
day 23 – i arrived in kolkata at 7am. walter, who is an american and was sharing the same compartment, joined me in getting a taxi to sudder street (traveler central). after looking around i checked into hotel maria, which was ironic, because i’d called that hotel the day before and they said they didn’t have any space. when i arrived they had quite a few available rooms. i checked in and, while unpacking, i realised i left the sarah mcdonald book on the train. damn, i’d only read half the book!
my first mission was to buy an ipod touch. my cowon mp3 player had been misbehaving and i was becoming quite frustrated with it. i found a big music emporium not far from my hotel. they had the 16gb touch, but not the 32gb touch. i asked a local guy and he told me there was a big gray market called ‘fancy market’ across town. i headed there and walked straight into a techie’s heaven. the first store i found was a camera shop where i bought a much needed circular polariser (i lost one somewhere in korea).
then, i turned my attention to ipods. i found a 32gb ipod and the price was reasonable. however, i didn’t have that much cash and none of the vendors there have credit card facilities. after a lot of discussion in hindi, they managed to find a solution which, seemingly dodgy, turned out to be fairly good. a nearby gas station had a credit card machine. i’d pay the gas station for the ipod and the gas station would give the cash to the store owner. i was very suspicious, but watched the whole transaction very carefully and i wasn’t ripped off. satisfied, i took the ipod and headed back to my hotel … a happy camper.
in the afternoon i got a haircut (really short) and a shave for 150 rupees (three dollars). i had a shower (it was damn hot) and spent the afternoon transferring music to the ipod.
day 24 – in the morning i headed straight to the bangladesh embassy to organise my visa. the entire process turned out to be a complete pain in the arse. upon arrival, i needed 3 copies of my passport and indian visa. i also needed $100 for the bangladesh visa (fuck!!!). i had to cash a traveler’s cheque to cover the visa cost. after that i went to a ‘foreigner’ window which was for non-indian applicants. i handed in all the forms and had to wait 2 hours for an interview. the interviews were done in groups of four and were something of a formality. i paid for the visa and had to return the next day at 6pm (what???) to pick up the visa. myself, as well as the other foreigners, were clearly frustrated with the bullshit bureaucracy.
while i was waiting i ended up meeting a bunch of europeans: sylwia (poland), jens and roman (both germans). we cursed the bangladesh embassy and, during further discussion, discovered that all of us were planning to take the same route (via bus) to bangladesh. we headed to the bus booking office together and bought tickets to bangladesh. sylwia, jens and i booked tickets for the same bus. roman was traveling a different day. after that we all had lunch together . i went back to the hotel, spent some time updating the ipod (it’s a slow job on the old computers they had) and in the late afternoon i headed to new market, which is just down the street from my hotel. i bought some tea, an ipod case (with juventus written on it), some sandals and three pairs of socks. that afternoon i also sold my lonely planet india and bought a lonely planet myanmar.
from my diary:
i met some europeans at the banglasesh embassy. while waiting outside, a woman came to us with a young girl (17 to 19ish) behind her. the woman had money in her hand. she kept talking to us in hindi and we couldn’t understand. the girl was cute and kept smiling at us. the pair eventually walked away but came back again about 10 mins later. she tried talking to us again, with the same result as before. as they walked away again they accosted an indian man who was just passing by. he waved them away. as the man passed us we asked him who the lady was. he told us that she’s offering her daughter to men for ex. oh. my. god. her mum is pimping her out to indians and foreigners! four hours later i’m sure i saw the same young girl walking near my hotel with an indian guy. was he another pimp, her father, or a customer???
day 25 – more purchasing to do today, i walked to the nearby jaan bazaar. i bought a mosquito net and two white undershirts. back in sudder street i had kimchi bokeumbab for lunch (it was pretty good too, damn spicy though) and checked email. i ended up sitting on sudder street with a pepsi in my hand and struck up a conversation with the yellow cab taxi drivers who had nothing better to do. i arranged with one of them to take me to the embassy to pick up my passport.
i went back to my hotel for a rest and to pack my bag. the next day was a very early start (4am wake up, 5.30 bus) so i had to pack everything the night before. then began the drama of the passport …
at about 5.20 i got the taxi over to the embassy. i had to be there at 6pm, but i didn’t know how the passport collection system worked, so i decided to make sure i was there early. i met the europeans there and we chatted while we waited for the window to open where we could collect our passports.
at about 5.50 i realised i’d forgotten my receipt. the receipt was issued when i handed in my passport. actually, i thought it was a formality, and not terribly important, so i didn’t think to bring it with me. i only had 10 minutes and had no time to go back to the hotel, so i thought i’d just wait and figured i could pick up my passport anyway.
at 6.05 the window opened and he started calling out names. when my name was called i went to pick up my passport.
receipt?
no, i forgot it.
no passport.
what?? it’s my passport. you can see my photograph inside.
no receipt, no passport.
shit fuck shit fuck shit!!!!!!!
he told me that i needed identification or the receipt. i didn’t have either. then he told me that the office would shut in 15 minutes. i tried begging and pleading with him, but to no avail. he was determined that i wouldn’t get my passport without some form of id.
panicking, i ran back to the taxi and told him to get to the hotel. at 6.20, in peak traffic, it took me over 30 minutes to get to the hotel, pick up the receipt, and get back to the embassy. by this time the embassy was shut. they had a small desk and intercom next to the delivery gate, so i buzzed and pleaded with the night staff to help me. they said they’d see if they can help. things started looking hopeful. minutes later the door opened and a gruff looking man asked if i had my receipt. i handed it to him and he shut the door again.
then, after another five minutes, he opened the door again and ushered me inside. he was quite angry at me. why didn’t i come at 6pm? i did come, i explained … why didn’t i bring the receipt? i couldn’t find it (i lied). after a lot of sorrys and thank yous he gave me my passport.
to celebrate, i paid the taxi driver nearly $10 for his troubles. then, back near the hotel i offered to buy the taxi driver a beer. he was muslim, he told me, but he said he’d love a whiskey and beer. i bought myself a bottle of beer and i bought him a can of beer and a small bottle of whiskey ($3 all up). we sat in the closed new market mall to drink it but were chased away by the night security staff.
no drinking here!
i’m not drinking. it’s water. (my beer was poorly wrapped in newspaper)
they laughed at me and told me to move on.
after finishing our beers i headed back to the hotel and got some much needed sleep …
