A random weekend on the coast, Part I

It’s hard to believe I’ve been in Kolkata for just 2 weeks but already I felt the need to escape the congested city.

My three travelling companions for the weekend were my flat mates (Charlotte and Alice) and another volunteer, Georgie. Planning for the trip started a few days in advance; let’s just say purchasing train tickets in India is a little different.

First foreigners must visit a special office in the city a few days in advance of their trip. Here we were given a master class in bureaucracy. We filled out lots of personal details across a strange paper form, then had to sit with an agent for 30 minutes while he used an ancient computer to find available trains. The system was intriguing if not a little ridiculous. 60minutes later we’d purchased return sleeper train tickets for a grand total of £5.05 each!

Buying our train tickets, L to R - Alice, Charlotte and Georgie.

On Friday evening we found ourselves on Howrah station boarding an old but sturdy-looking Indian train along with what felt like half of Kolkata’s population. Luckily we had reserved bunks but those travelling 2^nd class seating fought for their space in other carriages. Although they queued relatively orderly for India (mainly thanks to the heavy handed guards on duty), as soon as the carriage doors open they flooded into the cramped spaces like ants swarming a nest.

Bunks were piled three high and totally open to one another. Beds consisted of a 0.5mx2m plank covered with a polyvinyl sheet and the toilets reeked. “Basic” would be too complimentary. The rhythmic rocking of the train eventually knocked me off to sleep.

We arrived in Bhubaneswar around 5am. Apparently its the state capital of Orissa; the only possible reasons we saw for this prestigious title was either the density and quality of its temples or the state is home to little else!  We watched the sun rise over one of the many temples before treating ourselves to an Indian breakfast of puri and curried chick peas taken at a roadside street vendor; this was about as normal as this day went.

We headed off on a tour of the city's temples, first the 54m high Lingaraj Mandir dating back to the 11^th century and features several statues of Lions trampling elephants, apparently a symbol for the superiority of Hinduism over Buddhism. Whilst wandering the walls of the temple the local boy scouts led a protest calling for “liquid soap”; not an unfair demand if you ask me. We found ourselves on the most colourful street in India, littered with many cows and a lot of rubbish. Every house was marked with the names of the married couple housed there. 

Next to the oldest temple in Bhubaneswar erected in the 7^th century and home to a very sexual priest. We naively started talking to him as he seemed pleasant enough. Quickly he led us to the karma sutra carvings on the temple buildings, the phallic symbol of Shiva (one of the three main Hindu Gods, known as the Destroyer). At this point alarm bells started chiming. One thing led to another and he was inquiring whether or not we enjoyed sexual activities and propositioned us to group sex. We declined and exited the temple promptly. 

Temple tour with the questionable priest.

Onto the random but interesting Tribal museum and finally the city’s zoo, home to white tigers, leopards, black bears and many more. We took a trip on the highly recommended “White tiger safari”, costing 50p. We saw 4 out of the 5 Big Five within about 10 minutes during the whistle stop tour, though oddly no white tigers. Truly a hoop jumping exercise but comical in its own way.

The other random events of this day included me dropping my leggings and knickers 3 floors onto a drain out of our hotel bathroom window. I attempted inquiring with the neighbour as to the then unknown whereabouts of z clothes. This involved me standing on the toilet calling in English for help through a small window which probably only revealed my face. They definitely thought I was crazy. I eventually had to climb through a neighbour’s window in a very unlady-like fashion to retrieve them. Another two events occurred at the zoo. The first on entering the zoo. The four of us all fell victim to a bird poo strike –it either had incredible aim or diarrhea. The second occurred on exiting when we aimed to capture a photo of the four of us in front of the zoo. Instead about 100 Indians got their own photo of 4 white girls while we were unsuccessful in obtaining our own copy!

(more photos on Alice's Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alice.a.thomson/media_set?set=a.10151863308723789.1073741836.515408788&type=3)

Part II will take us to Konark, home of the sun temple. The local transport turned into a real cultural experience including a new nickname of "Mousey", lots of bodily contact, and witnessing domestic violence.   

The Haves and the Have nots

Saturday was spent doing the touristy bit, visiting the colonial Victoria monument and Kolkata`s answer to Richmond Park known as the Maidan. We watched the Future Hope boys win a local cricket derby match before investigating the inside of the monument. As is becoming the expected norm, I was photographed hundreds of times. One older local man, Joy, befriended me so he could practise his English. This involved be talked at for about an hour. Once the light had faded and my stomach was calling for its daily dose of dhal, I made my excuses and left.

Sunday turned into a confusing experiential roller coaster. We fulfilled our Sunday duty by accompanying the girls to a local book store to read stories before heading back to school to play games and read some more.

Alice and I had an afternoon invitation to another day scholar`s house, Jai. He is the head junior prefect and is the only member of his five siblings to attend Future Hope. He feels a great pressure to secure good grades and as such a good job to support his family in the future.

His home was a bus ride away, giving me my first exposure to the Kolkata public transport. The journey, which cost 6p took us into the poorer districts where the streets took on a whole new stench. Jai`s house was relatively substantial. Spread over two floors and connected by a metallic structure which doubled as stairs. Each step was spaced 30cm apart with a decent drop between subsequent 15cm bars which were supposedly steps, A vertical rope hung from the ceiling and a questionable banister were there for support. It makes Grandma Griffin`s stairs seem child friendly!
A scrap metal obstacle course formed a pathway to the door where his father and brother earned an income for the family. Having arranged a meeting time for 3pm we assumed we would go for a little chai and a meet and greet. Oh how wrong we were. The family had simply delayed their lunch until we arrived. Lunch would be an understatement. The feast left Alice and I feeling like the fatted calves! The meal of puri, curried potatoes, solid lassi and an excessive number of sweets left us bloated and feeling dodgy.
On rolling out of the house, we went on a walk around the local area. This included a visit to a chai pot making factory, or rather a 3x3m room containing a huge heap of smoking dried grass draped over thousands of tiny pots, doubling as a kiln.
Next to a Hindu temple where we observed prayer and then we're asked to join the congregation for yet more food, sweets and a questionable white sweet liquid. That churned my stomach even more. 

Alice and Jai's family

Back to the family home to finish of the feast with chai and then onto the next event.

Just a 5minute bus ride along the road from our afternoon tea, the Bee Gees tribute night was all about excess and over indulgence. Fat Indians in western clothes drank and ate to fill their oversized stomachs while the Canadian tribute band played some classics. It felt like the scene had been plucked from a Cambridge Ball! Culture shock.

Bee Gees

This evening I am taking the sleeper train to the coastal towns of Bhubaneswar, Konark and Puri where in the latter there is a beach festival! I'll tell you all about it in the next entry.

Muharram and my first taste of a slum

The first week continued along the most random but exciting path.

Not a month goes by in India when there isn't a festival. Thursday was “Children’s Day” celebrating the children and thus the future of India. As a treat, we watched a Hindi film about dyslexia which I understood a surprising amount of.

Our evenings and dinners are spent at the various boarding houses around the city. The children are divided into 6 houses: 2 girls and 4 boys. It gives us an opportunity to see more of the city and chat with the children in a non-academic environment. They are all incredibly house proud and as such the grand tour is compulsory. Many have roof terraces which give spectacular views over the surprisingly high rise skyline of Kolkata.

Our own accommodation is of relatively high standard. To quote my much more articulate room mate Charlotte, “The flat is charmingly shabby chic. Damp plays a large role in the decor but provided that the ceiling in the corner of the room doesn't fall down because of it, it shouldn't be a problem. We have a little kitchen, a nice large sitting area with 2 biting-bug-infested sofas, a tv and a washing line, a small bathroom and a large bedroom which the three of us share.” 

The Bedroom. My mossi cubby hole to the left and Charlotte having a small rest before the evening's activities. 

Back to day to day life. The fifth day took me deep into the heart of the Islamic community. The New Year festival, Muharram, is celebrated in the most fascinating way. First Alice and I visited the home of Sumeera, a day scholar’s. The room which plays home to 7 family members was roughly 2m x 5m, and contained one queen size double bed which spanned the entire width of the house. There was also a small cooking area, a filing cabinet doubling up as a set of drawers and randomly a small bald baby chick which has since been eaten by a neighbour’s cat! 
As a guest in an Indian home you are treated (and fed!) like a God. We were given sweets (oversized sugar lumps – Elsa you would love them), juice, potato chips, Bombay mix and somosas. All delicious if not random when combined together. Several extended family members came to witness two white girls in the family home, probably the greatest disappointment of their year. After chai, which I am becoming quite impartial to, we got ready for the Mela, or festival. This involved Alice and I swapping our discrete earrings for some incredibly long and dangly ones. Not my usual taste but TII, This Is India. The earrings weren't a temporary loan, oh no, they were a present for us to wear every time we return to the family home.
We left the house appropriately decorated and fell upon the parade. The first float involved a scaled model of the Titanic, complete with smoking chimneys and fish swimming around pool in which the ship sat. The locals were very keen for us to get involved and soon I found myself with a drum around my neck setting the rhythm of the night. They quickly retrieved the instrument on realising my lack of ability and originality. Onto the main street. We were hounded by cameras and requests for photos but our hosts kept us moving. The wave of intrigued festival goers followed us along the main road through a channel of oversized colourful flags. The Muslim community were out on mass celebrating with dances, food and stick combat- inflicting real pain on one another as a way of apologising to the hurt they inflicted on their God. 
After a short time we escaped the crowds and headed onto our destination for the evening, dinner with the middle school boys.

Unbelievably this wasn't my only home visit during my first week. The next blog will explain more but Sunday turned into a truely Indian day with the "Haves" and the "Have nots".

Arrival into Kolkata

Morning all! 

I've arrived safe and well, potentially thanks to the Indian Catholic priest I sat next to from Doha. Before touching Indian soil I'd received my first invite to a family celebration.

I'm quickly settling into the bustling city of Kolkata. What a place. For the golden members of this post the living accommodation is basic but safe. We're in a guarded complex with about 500 other Indians; we're probably the only whites. One bedroom for the three of us girls (Alice and Charlotte) and as the new comer I am on the mattress on the floor. I've made it homely with the addition of the much needed mosquito net and extra padding from my sleeping bag. 

On my first night the girls took me to a local vegetarian outlet favoured by residents named Govindas where I received my first taste of curry. Its going to be a long 6 months of dhal and rice! Not as unbearable as I expected. 

First day, in fact no everyday at school has been great. Its home to about 200 kids, spread over 13 classes. They range in age from 5 - 20 years old, the majority of which are boys and all taken from the streets. Many live in boarding houses as they have no home though some attend as day scholars from the local slums. The common factor is that they all have nothing and just need a little bit of love.

As a volunteer my main responsibilities include helping to teach the kids read in English, assist in language teaching classes and (best of all) running around burning their energy either through sport or games. We eat lunch and dinner with the children, always rice and dhal. Its a good day when we get an egg! And there are no knives and forks, only my right hand. So in addition to the many mosquito bites that are littering my skin, my finger nails are stained yellow.

The streets are dirty and yes it smells but Kolkata is already starting to feel like home. I've had an amazing first week, the highlight of which was an invitation to join an Islamic family for New Year celebrations in their neighbourhood. I'll explain more in my next post and try get some photos!

Lots of Indian love 

xxx

P.s. keep your messages coming, its always good to hear from you all