A Cruise Around the City of Joy
also known as the City of Infernal, Diesel-spewing
Lorries, 3-wheelers, Buses and every other known method of transport -
contrasting with its other reputation as the City of Poetry, Beautiful
Architecture and very nice people....
We awoke to the cawing of various "Murders" of crows
as well as a bunch of head-scarved painters who were slapping whitewash on every
spare bit of concrete they could find. The speed they worked at (the painters,
not the crows) was really quite amazing - although they did manage to paint the
odd plant which had careened into their
path.
Amber fortified herself with breakfast and went off to colour the hair of one the women in the Club's hair salon. Of course, she then ended up attending to any number of others who wanted to experience the foreign scissors! As I was due for a chop of my own, they were good enough to offer up the facilities for Amber to perform her magic on me (in full view of local hecklers).
All this preening had psyched us up to go out and explore the city - and also to find a cooperative bank machine. So...not so securely situated (no seatbelts) in the back seat of a standard-issue Calcutta taxi, we zipped out for a tour of the city. The main roads are pretty congested but the smaller side roads are really very interesting. We both thought they reminded us of photos we'd seen of Havana - similar style of architecture - and, surprisingly, clean and well kept.
Certainly the MVP's of the Calcutta road system have to be the pith-helmet clad coppers who spend their entire time trying to keep tabs on the variety of uncooperative vehicles (and cows, dogs, and, quite possibly, parrots) who all have their own particular agendas with respect to the ideal method of crossing intersections. There, these valiant sentries stand - in the blazing sun, in 95% humidity, for hours on end - with their main goal being to avoid their toes being run over. This fellow looks quite relieved he's in the shade...
We ended up driving around a good part of the city and seeing amazing signs - like the one for St. Thomas's School (where my Uncle went) which said something like "...since 1785". I suspect they hadn't scrubbed the surrounding cement wall since then! We also had the hilarious experience of following a minivan which was spewing the usual diesel cocktail - and had the audacity to display that it was one of the stellar representatives of the "Calcutta Anti-Pollution Patrol". Sadly, I couldn't record a single "in-focus" shot of this Python--esque experience as we were rocketing around a clover-leaf at the time. By now, the sun was starting to set and, believe me, you will never see as orange a sunset unless you're surrounded by an equivalent level of smoky pollutants. At about 4:30pm, you could look directly at the sun...no problem at all....
We made a quick stop at the Victoria Memorial (often referred to as the Brit version of the Taj Mahal). It was built at the beginning of the 20th Century - in honour of...wait for it...Queen Victoria. It's quite a spectacular marble edifice - currently undergoing a bit of a long-overdue clean-up (hence the scaffolding).
All this sightseeing was, of course, taking up valuable time which could, otherwise, have been used to shop. If you want to shop in Calcutta - and experience a microcosm of the entire city at the same time - you go to the Sir Stuart Hogg Market (colloquially known as the "New Market"). I gather the original place went up in smoke sometime around 1900 (I could be totally off here) so the replacement building has been called "New" ever since. The whole setup is like a bazaar - albeit with a roof over the top.
Even getting within 100 metres of the place results in being surrounded by "touts". These are guys whose livelihood depends upon ushering buyers to shops where they can earn commissions. Needless to say, each one is extremely persistent and trails you all over the place - in spite of any amount of indirect and direct indications from you that the last thing you'd do in the next half an hour would be to spend one single cent (or paisa) anywhere within the radius of 10 km of his epicentre. Of course, the fact you're heading directly into the busiest bazaar in the city may have some reflection on your credibility. Regardless of our protestations, we seemed to have grown an appendage which was dressed in a dhoti (a sarong like thing...which has the disturbing habit of getting tucked in at the back like some kind of overgrown thong). For those of you closely following this saga, I should note that his dental work closely resembled that of the afore-mentioned residents of Darjeeling (so you can imagine his toothpick selection). This fellow took great pains to point out that the was "board certified" by pointing out to us the badge proudly displayed on his chest. He certainly thought he'd got onto a good thing with us because he was right beside us wherever we walked and lurked outside every store we went into. In the meantime, Amber decided that Vancouver's Little India was not up to the task of supplying every possible Bollywood soundtrack....so in she went to negotiate a mass purchase (while our tout salivated outside, hopeful of a cut of the spending pie).
After picking up some silver jewelry for gifts at a neighbouring store, we escaped into the teeming streets where, for reasons which completely escape me, Amber decided to buy up most of the Indian supply of tikkas. Now, when I say tikkas, I'm not referring to the ever-popular Chicken Tikka. No...these are things that Indian women like to stick on their foreheads....and, much to my amazement, come in every variety of shapes and sizes (restricted by forehead size, of course). While I was twiddling my thumbs waiting for the tikka selection, I discovered a nearby shop which caused all sorts of corneal burns as a result of the loudest combination of colours I can ever remember seeing in a window display. The photo doesn't really do it justice...
Around the corner from this colour fiesta is the venerable Fairlawn Hotel (located in backpacker central on Sudder St.). Finally, someone offered to sell us hash in India - we were beginning to feel quite rejected! We were, frankly, much more interested in beer so we ignored our dealer and cruised into the Fairlawn's outdoor bar. This place has been run since the 1930's by the same couple - Ed & Vi Smith. This was where the Patrick Swayze character in the movie "City of Joy" stayed and, in which, Vi Smith's white poodle played a small, but crucial, role. Personally, I think Vi's purple hair would have been far more interesting than the poodle! They have an interesting room connected to the outdoor bar which appears to have a slightly creepy outlook. All over the walls, rather like hunting trophies, are pinned hats - makes one wonder what happened to the people once connected to them....
Unbelievably...post beer...more tikkas were purchased. This, of course, worked up our appetites so we decided to head over to Park Street and go to a restaurant called Trincas...with supposedly, "American-style" food. There were a row of rickshaws lined up looking for customers so we thought we'd give one a try.
It seems rather odd (with North American sensibilities) to be pulled along by another human being in this fashion. This guy certainly saw us coming....as it would have been cheaper to take a taxi for the 4 or 5 blocks we travelled (no doubt, guilt mitigated against our ruthless bargaining prowess).
Trincas had changed since the last time I'd seen it. Instead of a jazz bar...it had morphed into a combination of sports bar and lounge. The food was certainly good - although we were hard-pressed to figure out just what the American influence was. Our favourite part of the entire Trincas experience was the live band from hell! You couldn't have strayed further from jazz than what this lame bunch put out. I'm not sure how better I can communicate the smirk value than to say that they played the theme from Titanic not once but twice: the first time was some attempt at the original arrangement; the second was an incredibly bizarre "stars-on-45 style" version. They may not have been very good - but it was hard to beat for sheer entertainment! We could retire for the evening with smiles on our faces secure in the knowledge that Calcutta would never let such talent escape to the outside world!
Amber fortified herself with breakfast and went off to colour the hair of one the women in the Club's hair salon. Of course, she then ended up attending to any number of others who wanted to experience the foreign scissors! As I was due for a chop of my own, they were good enough to offer up the facilities for Amber to perform her magic on me (in full view of local hecklers).
All this preening had psyched us up to go out and explore the city - and also to find a cooperative bank machine. So...not so securely situated (no seatbelts) in the back seat of a standard-issue Calcutta taxi, we zipped out for a tour of the city. The main roads are pretty congested but the smaller side roads are really very interesting. We both thought they reminded us of photos we'd seen of Havana - similar style of architecture - and, surprisingly, clean and well kept.
Certainly the MVP's of the Calcutta road system have to be the pith-helmet clad coppers who spend their entire time trying to keep tabs on the variety of uncooperative vehicles (and cows, dogs, and, quite possibly, parrots) who all have their own particular agendas with respect to the ideal method of crossing intersections. There, these valiant sentries stand - in the blazing sun, in 95% humidity, for hours on end - with their main goal being to avoid their toes being run over. This fellow looks quite relieved he's in the shade...
We ended up driving around a good part of the city and seeing amazing signs - like the one for St. Thomas's School (where my Uncle went) which said something like "...since 1785". I suspect they hadn't scrubbed the surrounding cement wall since then! We also had the hilarious experience of following a minivan which was spewing the usual diesel cocktail - and had the audacity to display that it was one of the stellar representatives of the "Calcutta Anti-Pollution Patrol". Sadly, I couldn't record a single "in-focus" shot of this Python--esque experience as we were rocketing around a clover-leaf at the time. By now, the sun was starting to set and, believe me, you will never see as orange a sunset unless you're surrounded by an equivalent level of smoky pollutants. At about 4:30pm, you could look directly at the sun...no problem at all....
We made a quick stop at the Victoria Memorial (often referred to as the Brit version of the Taj Mahal). It was built at the beginning of the 20th Century - in honour of...wait for it...Queen Victoria. It's quite a spectacular marble edifice - currently undergoing a bit of a long-overdue clean-up (hence the scaffolding).
All this sightseeing was, of course, taking up valuable time which could, otherwise, have been used to shop. If you want to shop in Calcutta - and experience a microcosm of the entire city at the same time - you go to the Sir Stuart Hogg Market (colloquially known as the "New Market"). I gather the original place went up in smoke sometime around 1900 (I could be totally off here) so the replacement building has been called "New" ever since. The whole setup is like a bazaar - albeit with a roof over the top.
Even getting within 100 metres of the place results in being surrounded by "touts". These are guys whose livelihood depends upon ushering buyers to shops where they can earn commissions. Needless to say, each one is extremely persistent and trails you all over the place - in spite of any amount of indirect and direct indications from you that the last thing you'd do in the next half an hour would be to spend one single cent (or paisa) anywhere within the radius of 10 km of his epicentre. Of course, the fact you're heading directly into the busiest bazaar in the city may have some reflection on your credibility. Regardless of our protestations, we seemed to have grown an appendage which was dressed in a dhoti (a sarong like thing...which has the disturbing habit of getting tucked in at the back like some kind of overgrown thong). For those of you closely following this saga, I should note that his dental work closely resembled that of the afore-mentioned residents of Darjeeling (so you can imagine his toothpick selection). This fellow took great pains to point out that the was "board certified" by pointing out to us the badge proudly displayed on his chest. He certainly thought he'd got onto a good thing with us because he was right beside us wherever we walked and lurked outside every store we went into. In the meantime, Amber decided that Vancouver's Little India was not up to the task of supplying every possible Bollywood soundtrack....so in she went to negotiate a mass purchase (while our tout salivated outside, hopeful of a cut of the spending pie).
After picking up some silver jewelry for gifts at a neighbouring store, we escaped into the teeming streets where, for reasons which completely escape me, Amber decided to buy up most of the Indian supply of tikkas. Now, when I say tikkas, I'm not referring to the ever-popular Chicken Tikka. No...these are things that Indian women like to stick on their foreheads....and, much to my amazement, come in every variety of shapes and sizes (restricted by forehead size, of course). While I was twiddling my thumbs waiting for the tikka selection, I discovered a nearby shop which caused all sorts of corneal burns as a result of the loudest combination of colours I can ever remember seeing in a window display. The photo doesn't really do it justice...
Around the corner from this colour fiesta is the venerable Fairlawn Hotel (located in backpacker central on Sudder St.). Finally, someone offered to sell us hash in India - we were beginning to feel quite rejected! We were, frankly, much more interested in beer so we ignored our dealer and cruised into the Fairlawn's outdoor bar. This place has been run since the 1930's by the same couple - Ed & Vi Smith. This was where the Patrick Swayze character in the movie "City of Joy" stayed and, in which, Vi Smith's white poodle played a small, but crucial, role. Personally, I think Vi's purple hair would have been far more interesting than the poodle! They have an interesting room connected to the outdoor bar which appears to have a slightly creepy outlook. All over the walls, rather like hunting trophies, are pinned hats - makes one wonder what happened to the people once connected to them....
Unbelievably...post beer...more tikkas were purchased. This, of course, worked up our appetites so we decided to head over to Park Street and go to a restaurant called Trincas...with supposedly, "American-style" food. There were a row of rickshaws lined up looking for customers so we thought we'd give one a try.
It seems rather odd (with North American sensibilities) to be pulled along by another human being in this fashion. This guy certainly saw us coming....as it would have been cheaper to take a taxi for the 4 or 5 blocks we travelled (no doubt, guilt mitigated against our ruthless bargaining prowess).
Trincas had changed since the last time I'd seen it. Instead of a jazz bar...it had morphed into a combination of sports bar and lounge. The food was certainly good - although we were hard-pressed to figure out just what the American influence was. Our favourite part of the entire Trincas experience was the live band from hell! You couldn't have strayed further from jazz than what this lame bunch put out. I'm not sure how better I can communicate the smirk value than to say that they played the theme from Titanic not once but twice: the first time was some attempt at the original arrangement; the second was an incredibly bizarre "stars-on-45 style" version. They may not have been very good - but it was hard to beat for sheer entertainment! We could retire for the evening with smiles on our faces secure in the knowledge that Calcutta would never let such talent escape to the outside world!
Posted: Fri - November 21, 2003 at 04:47 PM
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