5 Days and 6 Nights in Kolkata

Chris was dozing on our bed at the Fairlawn Hotel last night while I washed some of our clothes in the sink. He drifted off for a moment and had a dream. He dreampt that his father, Chris Sr., was standing out in the dark, crowded street in front of the hotel calling him, "Chris, I can't move the car, Chris..."

That's how surreal Kolkata is. I was going to tell you about the autorickshaws in Delhi. I was going to tell those who know the thrill of riding the Cyclone at Coney Island, and the rickety assurance that death could be waiting around every creaking, hairpin turn, that they would appreciate the thrill of an autorickshaw ride in Delhi. But those little motorcycle cars have nothing on a taxi ride into Kolkata. Delhi is Disneyland compared to the twilight streets of the City of Joy.

We prepaid for our taxi inside the airport to avoid the tiresome haggling that has accompanied every transaction on the trip. But that measure of security did not ensure that our driver would speak English, or have any interest in our attempts at Hindi, or have a safe car, or even know the way. None of the above. And once we'd careened onto the congested highway, peering through the cracked windshield and trying to blink back the tears that came with the stinging exhaust that thickens the air here, we knew we were in for quite a ride.

At every intersection our driver stops to joke with other drivers, buys and swallows down little "energy packets" from passing street vendors, or leans out the window to spit and ask directions.

We sat quietly in the back seat as he pulled out of the way of two buses that seemed to be drag-racing down the road; we looked out the window at little vignettes of life that rolled past: women in dusty saris with babies on their hips, cows grazing on littered islands of grass wedged between the street and pond sized puddles ringed with debris left over from the recent monsoon beating. Dirty children chased each other. Beautifully painted rickshaws peddled past. Once we got into the winding streets of the city, we drove through whole blocks with no power, candles shining out of small cave-like store fronts and people, people, people everywhere.

And I haven't even told you about our hotel yet. Today we are going to meet with Ruby from the Crafts Council of West Bengal to find out the where's, when's and how's of our trip to meet the Patua in Naya. This little internet cafe will burn our photos onto a CD, so I should be able to post some pictures in a day or two. Thanks for your comments!