It is an interestig airport departure from Chennai to Kolkata. It resembles the usual crowded Indian airport, but the thing that strikes us as very interesting are the TV screens showing which obects you cannot take on board… We had never seen anything like it before… and the list is long! You are not permitted to take along some of the following objects: fireworks, swords, chain saws, guns, axe, scuba tanks, propane tanks, just to name a few. For us travelling mostly in EU countries this was obvious… I guess in many countries of the world there will always be someone travelling for the first time.
As usual when we arrive inside the airport there is someone from the airline you have booked that walks up to us with a trolley and kindly takes our bags to the check-in counter. He stays with us until he is sure our luggage is marked with name tags. The flight goes by very fast, only 2 hours from Chennai to Kolkata with the plane compared to a long 48 hours by train (which I did on my last trip to India).
We land at 8 p.m. in Kolkata in West Bengal State and see the long line-up for the prepaid taxis (that we usually take to pay a fair price to the hotel). We are quite tired and the line-up (or queue as they say in India) is extremely long. We decide to take our chances and exit the airport and see with some of the other taxis. A young man comes up to us and agrees with our quoted price. He walks with us a bit and then tells us to wait until he gets his taxi from the parking lot. We wait at least 20 minutes (it seems) until he appears again with a beat up old Ambassador taxi and a driver. He helps us put our luggage in the trunk and says good-bye, the driver will drop you off at your hotel… We are a little worried, as we have set the price deal with him. We feel as if we are just handed over to someone else… Strange concept.
So our ride into Kolkata begins quite strangely…. There had been a big fire in one of the biggest markets in the city just a few days ago and you could still see a sort of cloud hanging over the city. We take some eary and empty back roads and pass through a very poor area of run down houses until we finally arrive in the Sudder Street area (tourist hotel area of Kolkata). We do not feel very at ease arriving in the evening with a strange driver that does not say a word to us and with this eary atmosphere. I always like to speak at least a bit with the drivers finding out where they are from, what they like and not about the new city we have just arrived in. It usually gives us good beginning contact. We reserved a hotel by phone a few days ago as the one we liked was full today. The street is under construction and porters from the hotel help carry our luggage to the hotel lobby. The door is locked and there are guards at the entrance… Hmmm.
Anyways a big Sikh man with a friendly smile welcomes us and shows us a few rooms before we settle down for the night. Unfortunately there is a bar downstairs making some noise, inlcuding some strange noises coming from inside the hotel in the middle of the night. We are not feeling very comfortable here… but all we had to do is sleep and leave again early the next day for the train station.
The next mornig at 5h30 we arrive at the reception and we see the big Sikh man and the guards sleeping in the lobby. We wonder if they have real beds too, or they might have just arrived… I say this because I have seen employees sleep in the kitchen in some of the places we have stayed in… We arrive at Sealdah Station and search for our track. There are not too many people yet, as it is quite early. We find the track our train will leave from and set our luggage down. Carmen looks after the bags as I begin searching for some snacks for the 12 hour ride to NJP (New Jalpaiguri) 500 km further north. When the train pulls in it is the usual rush and lining-up for the passengars that have no reservations and that will fill into the 3rd class wooden seat wagons. I can understand their worry, as I also would not like to be standing for 12 hours…
We find our name on the list of reserved passengers and make our way to the compartement. We share the compartement with a policeman and a couple and their 2 daughters from MP (Madya Pradesh). Opposite is a young man sitting alone (for now) by the window. As the train starts moving and everyone has made themselves comfortable we begin talking with everyone. The father of the family from MP talks good English. We find out that they are on vacation for Pongal and are going to spend a few days in Darjeeling. They are worried that it will be very cold up there as they are from the south and wonder if they have enough warm clothes.
The policeman has just finished his long service and has a few days off to go home to Assam. He has learned french a few years ago and is eager to practice with us. He keeps saying when he will be retired he will take some courses again to freshen up. As the journey goes on we pass fields of rice, people going to the fields by bicycle or walking or sometimes driving a tractor. In this poor region bordering Bangladesh there are still mostly using oxen to pull the ploughs. The atmosphere is nice and I often go to the open door between the wagons and hold my head out. Some women and men are appaled and keep repeating, oh, be careful, do not stand there, etc. The women or moms in India are extremely protective for my taste… I just feel wonderful, holding on to the handels with both my hands and letting the wind blow in my hair. As we are not moving very fast it cannot be be that dangerous. We also chat with the young man by the window and find out that he is an IT student on his way back home to Assam too.
Later a man comes by asking if any of us would like to order the cooked lunch: dhal, vegetables, rice and some curry. Most of us order it, as it is something hot. Of course there are also the usual vendors getting on at each station coming by with chaat, chai, drinks, plastic gadgets, games, books, jewelry, etc. The strangest and very sensitive ones that come on the train are the people everyone calls the 3rd sex in India. Neither man nor woman they come in the train compartments clapping their hands and singing to get money. You dare not laught as they come by as they can get very upset. Once I tried to pretend I was sleeping when I heard them arriving, but they did not pay attention and still asked me for money. In between little boys that come by sweeping up the floor with a tiny short broom asking for a few pennies. For me taking the train in India is an experience not to missed! It is also the most comfortable way to travel.
In the compartement next to us is a whole family with a young woman that I begin speaking too while I stand up to stretch for a while. She is from Bihar State and going home to Assam where she lives. The funniest thing is when we begin speaking she tells me she is a Bharatnatyam dance teacher! Wow, how small the world is. When she hears that I am studying Bharatnatyam dance she tells me « get up and show me I will do the beat »… And there I begin to show her what I know on a moving train! It is not that easy as the wagons are swaying from side to side. Soon a whole group is watching… It is alot of fun and she teaches me some new steps of a dance I am learning. It is incredible to see how an art can link people from all over the world.
Finally we arrive in NJP station a few hours later than originally stated, but it does not really matter. I am supposed to call Father Julius to pick us up from Jesu Ashram where we will staying for the next 2 days.
As usual when we arrive inside the airport there is someone from the airline you have booked that walks up to us with a trolley and kindly takes our bags to the check-in counter. He stays with us until he is sure our luggage is marked with name tags. The flight goes by very fast, only 2 hours from Chennai to Kolkata with the plane compared to a long 48 hours by train (which I did on my last trip to India).
We land at 8 p.m. in Kolkata in West Bengal State and see the long line-up for the prepaid taxis (that we usually take to pay a fair price to the hotel). We are quite tired and the line-up (or queue as they say in India) is extremely long. We decide to take our chances and exit the airport and see with some of the other taxis. A young man comes up to us and agrees with our quoted price. He walks with us a bit and then tells us to wait until he gets his taxi from the parking lot. We wait at least 20 minutes (it seems) until he appears again with a beat up old Ambassador taxi and a driver. He helps us put our luggage in the trunk and says good-bye, the driver will drop you off at your hotel… We are a little worried, as we have set the price deal with him. We feel as if we are just handed over to someone else… Strange concept.
So our ride into Kolkata begins quite strangely…. There had been a big fire in one of the biggest markets in the city just a few days ago and you could still see a sort of cloud hanging over the city. We take some eary and empty back roads and pass through a very poor area of run down houses until we finally arrive in the Sudder Street area (tourist hotel area of Kolkata). We do not feel very at ease arriving in the evening with a strange driver that does not say a word to us and with this eary atmosphere. I always like to speak at least a bit with the drivers finding out where they are from, what they like and not about the new city we have just arrived in. It usually gives us good beginning contact. We reserved a hotel by phone a few days ago as the one we liked was full today. The street is under construction and porters from the hotel help carry our luggage to the hotel lobby. The door is locked and there are guards at the entrance… Hmmm.
Anyways a big Sikh man with a friendly smile welcomes us and shows us a few rooms before we settle down for the night. Unfortunately there is a bar downstairs making some noise, inlcuding some strange noises coming from inside the hotel in the middle of the night. We are not feeling very comfortable here… but all we had to do is sleep and leave again early the next day for the train station.
The next mornig at 5h30 we arrive at the reception and we see the big Sikh man and the guards sleeping in the lobby. We wonder if they have real beds too, or they might have just arrived… I say this because I have seen employees sleep in the kitchen in some of the places we have stayed in… We arrive at Sealdah Station and search for our track. There are not too many people yet, as it is quite early. We find the track our train will leave from and set our luggage down. Carmen looks after the bags as I begin searching for some snacks for the 12 hour ride to NJP (New Jalpaiguri) 500 km further north. When the train pulls in it is the usual rush and lining-up for the passengars that have no reservations and that will fill into the 3rd class wooden seat wagons. I can understand their worry, as I also would not like to be standing for 12 hours…
We find our name on the list of reserved passengers and make our way to the compartement. We share the compartement with a policeman and a couple and their 2 daughters from MP (Madya Pradesh). Opposite is a young man sitting alone (for now) by the window. As the train starts moving and everyone has made themselves comfortable we begin talking with everyone. The father of the family from MP talks good English. We find out that they are on vacation for Pongal and are going to spend a few days in Darjeeling. They are worried that it will be very cold up there as they are from the south and wonder if they have enough warm clothes.
The policeman has just finished his long service and has a few days off to go home to Assam. He has learned french a few years ago and is eager to practice with us. He keeps saying when he will be retired he will take some courses again to freshen up. As the journey goes on we pass fields of rice, people going to the fields by bicycle or walking or sometimes driving a tractor. In this poor region bordering Bangladesh there are still mostly using oxen to pull the ploughs. The atmosphere is nice and I often go to the open door between the wagons and hold my head out. Some women and men are appaled and keep repeating, oh, be careful, do not stand there, etc. The women or moms in India are extremely protective for my taste… I just feel wonderful, holding on to the handels with both my hands and letting the wind blow in my hair. As we are not moving very fast it cannot be be that dangerous. We also chat with the young man by the window and find out that he is an IT student on his way back home to Assam too.
Later a man comes by asking if any of us would like to order the cooked lunch: dhal, vegetables, rice and some curry. Most of us order it, as it is something hot. Of course there are also the usual vendors getting on at each station coming by with chaat, chai, drinks, plastic gadgets, games, books, jewelry, etc. The strangest and very sensitive ones that come on the train are the people everyone calls the 3rd sex in India. Neither man nor woman they come in the train compartments clapping their hands and singing to get money. You dare not laught as they come by as they can get very upset. Once I tried to pretend I was sleeping when I heard them arriving, but they did not pay attention and still asked me for money. In between little boys that come by sweeping up the floor with a tiny short broom asking for a few pennies. For me taking the train in India is an experience not to missed! It is also the most comfortable way to travel.
In the compartement next to us is a whole family with a young woman that I begin speaking too while I stand up to stretch for a while. She is from Bihar State and going home to Assam where she lives. The funniest thing is when we begin speaking she tells me she is a Bharatnatyam dance teacher! Wow, how small the world is. When she hears that I am studying Bharatnatyam dance she tells me « get up and show me I will do the beat »… And there I begin to show her what I know on a moving train! It is not that easy as the wagons are swaying from side to side. Soon a whole group is watching… It is alot of fun and she teaches me some new steps of a dance I am learning. It is incredible to see how an art can link people from all over the world.
Finally we arrive in NJP station a few hours later than originally stated, but it does not really matter. I am supposed to call Father Julius to pick us up from Jesu Ashram where we will staying for the next 2 days.
