कोल्कता-टूरिस्ट-साइट्स एंड होली

The tourist trail in Kolkata
Over the past few days I've had the chance to be a tourist. I have now had three weekends, and then two days off for Holi, plus three days of the abilympics ( more of which later), so I've actually worked five days in the last 16; not bad really :-) except that I only have a few weeks here and there is so much to do. I guess no-one actually pays me so if I didn't show up, they can't sack me, and I might take advantage of that in the weeks to come if I want to travel in India, but having this time off now was good to find my way about in Kolkata.
Firstly, what do most people think about when they hear Calcutta?? Id guess it is the black hole, a link to the British Raj and Mother Theresa. Sure, Kolkata has slums, and street dwellers but so do most cities in Asia, and increasingly so in the West. (The beggars in Leicester Square Tube are as insistent as any ive encountered here). I like the area I live because its a locals area, and no-one bothers me.
When I took a taxi to Dalhousie Square – the start of my walking tour, I was accosted by beggars immediately- but I'm the white guy and I do tend to stand out a little. Similarly, as I walked around the “backpackers” areas in Sudder street, I didn't feel like Id really want to come back having done them, I did see a bar, but not yet the ubiquitous Irish pub that seems to exist in every city in the world (and I have the footie on tv at home so I don't need a bar)- I'm a real snob about tourists, especially as I'm such a “local” now
The Centre of Kolkata does hark back to Raj India, when it was the capital of the British colonialism। As Kolkata only received minor bombing from the Japanese in WW2, and has never otherwise suffered invasion, everything is pretty well preserved, in that typical crumbling, dilapidated Asian style- the result of high humidity, and zero maintenance budgets. Hence the old Writers Building is now the centre of government, complete with communist slogans on the walls, but there is no evidence of any vandalism in any of the churches and whilst the museum of India may be crap (think of “preservation via piling stuff high in a corner of a room”, with no attempt made to bring perspective or illumination) the building is quite magnificent.
I was given a guided tour of St John's church by a small child who lives with his father in the grounds. He was very keen to tell me all about the history and show me everything, including the memorial to the black hole- the site of which was close by. His discourse sounded authentic (unlike the scene in Slumdog Millionaire where the kid acting as tour guide for the dumb Yanks claims the Taj was built in memory of the wife killed in a car crash...) The Governor's residence looks equally grand, although I didn't get too close as the soldier with the big gun looked menacingly at me as I walked past. (Do I really look like some extremist terrorist?). You can argue about whether the British brought or destroyed civilisation around the world but they left town planning which included grand open spaces and broad roads. The Indians figured it was a good place to put Eden Square (the cricket stadium), but it also provides a pleasant green area and everywhere are ad hoc cricket matches being played.
I noticed the police had allowed some form of peaceful protest about Bengali being the first language of the state, and grouped everyone right next to the public toilets- and in 35C heat, you need to be pretty passionate about your cause to protest through that smell. I will confess that the English bookshops, and the music store were as interesting to me as any of the sights...and I had a mean sweet lassi in an air-conditioned cafe. I was most put out to see that in celebration of International Womens' Day, all ladies visiting were getting a gift bag of shampoo and stuff and I managed to cadge some of my own so I can check out the competition. (the shampoo I brought from home won't last 3 months, and whilst we have production in Baddi, India- all the large size shampoo is imported from Iowa city and looks scraped and shabby. Yup, I can leave P&G for three months but Im still store checking).
The Park around the Victoria memorial is splendid, but seems to close at 4pm on Sunday...and so it was actually my third attempt at visiting before I actually got to see the magnificent building up close. The exhibition inside was much better, with a good overall history of Bengal and Kolkata and one room of bad paintings by British artists ( the school of “any daub is good” if it has a big sky) and some rather splendid pictures by Indian artists (Much more ornate and much more fun). The old photos of Calcutta were also fascinating to see how little has changed. Kolkata has one or two tower blocks, but no skyscrapers like many other Asian cities.
On another day I took a taxi to the Howrah bridge (busiest in the world apparently with 100,000 people carrying large loads walking across each day), broke all the rules about taking photos ( the sign was in Bengali, or Hindi.... honest m'lud) and then wandered the flower market ( amazing and it smelled pleasant for an Asia street market).
The Bazaar area is where all the entrepreneurs are located- and you can probably buy ANYTHING. I do wonder how one can survive with a shop that sells nothing except door knobs, especially when there were three such shops within a block of each other. I was offered an AK 47- but it appeared to be of the plastic variety that shot water- great for Holi- so I declined. The best thing about my stroll was that even though I know I was stared at, I never felt threatened (unlike markets elsewhere in the world) and was not hassled। Ive been out a couple of times with Suzanne, another volunteer. She is Indian born, but brought up in Australia, and lives now in Hong Kong. She looks Indian, dresses Western , and gets stared at more than me- possibly because she isn't wearing a sari, or because has been with me (the white bloke). She gets Indian rates at the monuments (Rs.10 vs 150 for me- the foreign tourist), and is treated as an Indian until she opens her mouth...(broad Aussie accent). She has “Indian days”- when she is happy to blend in, and “Australian day”s- when the general chaotic nature of the place, and the bureaucracy gets to her and she wants to scream. (I know this feeling so well...see below)

Holi...the festival of color
This is supposed to celebrate the coming of spring (or maybe summer- but its “only” 35C at the moment), and is a great excuse for everyone to throw dyes at each other। Ranu...my dearest local volunteer coordinator... invited us all to a party at her home, and we spent the morning generally misbehaving and getting colored. (The tee shirt is now officially retired). We had a private party, but I was warned that in certain streets, its considered a free for all and you can get dyed by complete strangers. I must confess that one of the highlights of the day was the chance to shower under a torrent of proper hot water afterwards: Much better than my dribble at home. The other volunteers included 4 girls just finishing a 2 month stint teaching at a local slum school. (At around 19 I take my hat off to them for doing something like this- I thought a couple of weeks Interrailing in Europe was an adventure at that age). The only issue with Holi is that EVERYTHING is closed. Come lunchtime it looked as though the only food would be the sweets I had brought (such a nice boy and so well brought up...always comes with sweets or flowers....hehe thank you Mother for teaching me how to ingratiate so well॥). However, Ranu- who is a genius, found a shop that did chicken kati rolls- scrummy flatbread with spicy chicken wrapped within. Now this is fast food I could get to like!

Tollygunge club- a lesson in Indian bureaucracy
An oasis of Expat. life that is famous worldwide, and has a golf course, so I thought I'd check it out. The first challenge was finding a taxi driver who knew where it was, and whilst getting to the neighbourhood was achieved without too much trouble- I had to shout at him twice as he started by taking me in totally the wrong direction as my English is not comprehensible to Indians- finding the club involved stopping ( in the middle of the street and creating a minor traffic jam) and asking first a taxi driver, then a passer by and finally a man in uniform (didn't look like police, may even have been a cleaner, but he had a uniform).
Driving up it felt like an oasis of Englishness amongst the Indianish that is Kolkata. Neatly mown lawn, with wizened men (wallahs even) crouching down and clipping stuff, a grand old building with another man in a splendid uniform at reception. A bar (God... it serves alcohol, unlike pretty much every other restaurant I've been to in this place so I like it already), and at least 3 restaurants. There was also a swimming pool (sans water.... very Indian) and I understand they also have a gym... but I have Karma.. a little room with an exercise bike and a rowing machine just two minutes walk from me...so tough luck boys I ain't getting sweaty at yours..unless you have great showers that is).
The next challenge was asking about membership. You can join for the day, for a fee, but I wanted to see about joining for the duration of my time here. I was directed to see a Mr Ghosh, who sat in the back office of what looked like a fully functioning bank. He was polite enough... but to say helpful in anyway whatsoever would be stretching the definition. Here is what I think I have established
-YES, I could become a temporary member but I needed to be proposed by a current member। No, he would not share a list of current members with me, on the off chance that I (in my first fortnight in Kolkata) have somehow run into a member already।
-Yes, it was definitely better financially to do temporary membership than to try and play golf on a day membership, but no, he was not prepared to tell me how much it would cost.
- Yes, I could play golf any time but no I couldn't be sure of getting on the course if I just showed up (and naturally he offered no help on how to call and book ahead)
-No, he had no literature to share with me, that would help introduce me to the club, its benefits or even an address ( useful to show taxi drivers)

-Yes, he had a business card, but he wasn't going to give me one- in case I wanted to ask any follow up questions।

He was obsequiously polite, but made it very clear that he wasn't going to offer any help whatsoever। Now in the words of Groucho Marx...”I wouldn't want to be a member of any club prepared to have me as a member.” They clearly don't want me as a member so I consider this a challenge. It might be cool to “entertain” people at my club sometime...hehe. I'm going to ask “my ladies” to see if they know someone who would introduce me. Mr Ghosh doesn't realise that I may have influential friends so this little tale is to be continued.......

The Races
I was asked if there were Race nights in Kolkata.(you know, you sit and bet 50p on film clips and make up the names of the horses and raise money for charity. Well, I went one better and paid Rs. 20 (yep 30p) entry to watch the Kolkata St. Ledger Race meeting on Saturday afternoon. I was disappointed when the taxi driver refused to drop me at the VIP entrance, and I had to brave the boy hawkers with race cards and enter with the plebs. The race stand is splendid, and the view across the Maidan towards the Victoria Memorial magnificent. I'm not a great one for the nags, but it was very pleasant sitting in the shade looking at the horses in the paddock, and then the people watching them (and watching me). I had brought my binoculars so I could track the race from its start and around the bend up to the finish line. Being (almost) the only white guy, I of course demanded a certain amount of attention. For the big race, I was “befriended” by some guy who had found the beer tent (I wish he'd told me where it was, the best I could find was a dodgy juice bar) and was a little worse for wear. He'd bet on number 4 and 5 ( Rs20 bets... clearly a high roller) and wanted me to have a side bet withmy choice of no 3. ( I pick my horses using the following rigorous system, tried and tested over the years to be foolproof and 100% reliable. 1. Cool name, 2. best colors, 3. smallest jockey, 4. horse that looks most feisty 5. longest odds. Lets face it- if you are only going to win your stake back whats the point on a Rs. 20 bet? I like 10-1 odds when they come in. Ah yes, my system is 100% reliable to lose money so if you ever go to the races with me, see what I'm betting on and pick something else.
Anyway... my mate..who by now had his arm around me and was cheering every part of the race then looked most despondent when number 5 romped home at the end..and I couldnt understand why. My horse ambled in about 5 minutes later- as expected. It took a good 5 minutes for me to explain to him that no 5 had won, and he was 150Rs better off- at which he hugged me- and everyone around him and screamed and shouted about how lucky he was. At least he finished the day happy- and im sure the bhang lassi ( lassi with majijuana in it) or beer tent was frequented again. I sloped off to look for some other way of entertaiuning myself- racing pundit I am not!