Finally in India

So we landed at the airport, which deserves a paragraph in itself. It's the crummiest airport I've ever seen - looks like it hasn't had new paint since the eighties, let alone decoration. Plus, it's tiny- the building itself is about four times the size of the SOS or something like that.

We went outside, met our uncle and got a taxi. Most taxis are big steady yellow clunkers called Ambassadors, but we got a sort of SUV dealy. Not that it was new, because it seems nothing is here. Then we set off on an hour-and-a-half of traffic to Howrah, a city just over the Ganges from Kolkata, which is what they call Calcutta nowadays.

Traffic is not anything like back home. Most Canadians, if they were going around a corner and saw a bicycler pedalling into their path, would stand on the brakes and maybe honk the horn. Here they're more inclined to stand on the horn and maybe tap the brakes. You rely on sheer force of volume and annoyance to get yourself through the streets, and you swerve a lot. Lanes are sort of whatever, and I get the feeling that if there weren't strong medians people would feel free to swerve into oncoming traffic just to pass. On two-lane streets, this turns traffic into not so much traffic as one long game of chicken. It's actually pretty fun if you're not driving.

The sound is amazing. First come the pedestrians, who will yell if someone almost hits them (depressingly often) but otherwise can't be heard. Then the bikes, which go 'tingly-tingly-ting". The rickshaws, which sound like your average squeezetoy for some reason. Squeaky, squeak, squeak. Then the autorickshaws, cars and motorcycles, which range from a crazymaking 'hee-haw-hee-haw' to the usual wail. Then the buses and trucks, which drive everyone else crazy and which bellow deep and loud.

The residential streets are scarier. On average they're two Sasha-heights wide. They're filled with walking people, but that doesn't bother the cars, rickshaws, bikes or motorbikes which push their way through, keeping the horn blaring so people know they're about to get run over. Passing is crazy.

We got to the fifth-floor flat which had been rented for us, and it was really not so good. No beds, hard-pack mattresses on the floor only. Lizards on the walls, but that's normal. Cockroaches, also normal. The bathroom was, to put it mildly, dingy. You would not wish to know about the toilet paper situation.

The heat is really something. After about five minutes, your skin just lets go and you don't even feel yourself sweating any more, unless you reach a hand behind your back and feel your soaked shirt. We set the AC for twenty-five and we practically freeze (bliss!). Between sweating, walking and climbing stairs, we'd all be losing a lot of weight if it weren't for the generous amounts of good Indian food our family stuffs us with.

Anyway, we eventually made excuses and moved to another flat, this one in actual Kolkata, which our friend Rana owns, and which we're staying at now. Comparative luxury. Throughout all of this, Durga-puja is going, which is a festival for the goddess Durga. People are generally happy, and everywhere buildings called Pandels are going up, which house magnificent handmade larger-than--life statues of the gods,with Durga being featured. Last night was the last day, and all the Durgas from all over the cities were sent into the Ganga to float away. To say it was crazy would be a criminal understatement. People are dancing, drumming and singing all along the banks of the river, and thousands of Durgas keep arriving.

The main problem that I can see with Kolkata is no trashcans, which means people throw their garbage wherever. In a city of 20 million, this is a pretty big problem. I still feel guilty about doing it. When I drink a cup of chai or something, I keep my plastic cup and look for a trash can, then I always remember that there is none and drop it on the ground like everyone else.

India is a pretty good place to spend your hard-earned money. A decent meal in a sit-down place will cost about fifty to a hundred rupees, and a street meal where you sit on chairs outside costs a lot less. Bottle of Sprite, twenty rupees. A guitar, 1500-3000 rupees. Now you're probably wondering about the exchange rate. Fourty rupees to the dollar.

Which means that you can get an good meal for $2.50, a bottle of pop for fifty cents (although you won't want to, because they have something called Slice which is delicious cold, made with mangoes and costs 25 cents), and a guitar for 40-80 dollars. Things are cheap here, if you have money. Of course if you work here, you'd get paid considerably less, so there you are. Tourist destination, what what.

Anyways, bye for now. I'm not sure when I'll get Internet next.

P.S. If anyone's mad about us being in India and them being in school, work, etc- we're mad that you are back home with balmy breezes and silent streets.