Location: Kolkata, India
Author: My Husband
After 22 hrs in the air and another 16 hrs in transit, I finally reached Kolkata. My flight landed at 11:30pm, and having only slept fitfully for 3 hrs in the last 1.5 days, my goal was to get to the hotel and to bed asap. My colleagues and I were met at the airport by our driver, and 40 mins later, we were safely ensconced at the Taj Bengal.
View from my hotel room.
After more fitful sleep (jetlag!), we went out for a bit of sightseeing the next day and ran smack into the infamous Kolkata traffic. Oh the traffic… how should I begin to describe it? Let’s start with the self-organizing nature of said traffic. You may notice from the photos in this post that there are no lane dividers on most Kolkata streets. As far as we could tell, this enables drivers to determine how many lanes could be formed on a street at any given time. It could be two lanes, or three, or five – it all depends on the number of cars on the street, the skill/courage of the drivers, and the size of their cars (the smaller the car, the easier it is to squeeze into open spots in traffic). Despite the seeming chaos, traffic does flow, albeit at a crawl sometimes. And then there’s the incessant honking. Honking is part and parcel of driving, and from our observations, is used for a multitude of reasons. Want to pass somebody by coming up behind their blind spot? Honk! Or hey, somebody’s cut you off. HONK!! Feel happy? Honk honk. Feel sad? Honk honk honk! And what about the common habit of folding in the rearview mirrors? I guess drivers (i) are too busy looking ahead to care about what’s behind them and (ii) find the extra 10 inches or so of saved width very helpful when maneuvering in close-quarters. And then there was the curious situation of cars honking in unison at major intersections, with the sound reaching a whole new level of intensity. On our third day in Kolkata, our curiosity got the better of us and we asked our driver about all the honking. I mean, it wasn’t going to make the traffic computer change the lights any faster, was it? Our driver points to a little blue booth – windows fitted with protective iron bars – on one corner of the intersection. He said, “In that booth, there is a man who presses the button to turn the lights green. The drivers are all honking at him…”
Street vendors wade into the waiting traffic at intersections to sell their wares.
After the excitement of navigating Kolkata traffic, we returned to our hotel, which would prove to be our oasis from the ever-present buzz of the city for two weeks. The Taj’s serene and refined environment was the yin to the city’s hot and noisy yang, and provided welcome respite from minor annoyances ranging from the relentlessly sweltering weather, to the cloying cloud of exhaust fumes that linger in the air, to the fine windblown sand that stick to clothes in a matt sheen. This being a business trip, with the bulk of our time spent at our Indian office, my colleagues and I were often too tired to be adventurous when it came to food, so the majority of our evening meals were taken at the hotel. The Taj had a bevy of restaurants, most of which served great food and were very satisfying.
One of the days, we had afternoon tea at the Taj. It was a little too genteel us, so there was no repeat of the experience.
We did, on several occasions, drag our tired selves out of the hotel to experience the local Kolkata nightlife and food. One evening, we had dinner at Mocambo’s, which is a popular local restaurant serving “Continental” and Indian food – I remember joking to my friend D that it was the Indian equivalent of our “HK Cafes”! The Mocambo dinner was particularly memorable because of what we ate immediately after our meal there – paan!
Just outside Mocambo, there was a paan shop. Paan is made to order, and could include ingredients such as chewing tobacco, betel nuts and all manner of chutney and spices. The traditional preparation of the final product – made with the shopkeeper’s bare hands with a little tin of water for washing up – was quite eye opening. When the finished product has handed to me, I had a split second to decide if I wanted to taste it. My thought process, albeit muddled by two large bottles of Kingfisher Strong, went a little bit like this: It’d been 1.5 weeks and I hadn’t gotten sick yet, and I didn’t want to offend my Indian colleague who bought for us and was already merrily chewing away, and I’d have a great story to tell if I did it, and besides, how bad could it really be (I’d gotten my Hep. A/B shots already…)??. So I popped it in and chewed… leafy, greasy, minty, gritty, with a hint of sweetness (in that order). I tasted, but decided against swallowing, and that was that.
