Touched down safely in Kolkata, after a faultless 2hr flight from Port Blair, to be greeted by a 
city that's a million miles away from the disease stricken slum depicted in Dominique Lapierre's best-seller"City of Joy".
In fact, the place has changed dramatically in recent times (government sponsored clean up after the afore mentioned novel struck international chords) and walking around on foot is a real pleasure.
It's here, under the bridge, that remains a vivid picture of how the city must have been in the 60s and 70s when it swelled with disease and poverty to become the world's biggest slum. The sight of the children and the conditions they're forced to endure really is quite disturbing. But a few minutes walk away all is beautiful again.
Buildings like the Victoria Memorial and Writers' Club wouldn't be outof place in Paris or London, while the Maidan park area extends milesbreaking up the concrete monotony.
city that's a million miles away from the disease stricken slum depicted in Dominique Lapierre's best-seller"City of Joy".In fact, the place has changed dramatically in recent times (government sponsored clean up after the afore mentioned novel struck international chords) and walking around on foot is a real pleasure.
There's a noticeable change too in the people. Gone are the dark brown skin and bush tash's, replaced by more mongrel looking folk (a weirdmix of Chinese and Indian). Despite their looks the people are far friendlier and, at times, more helpful than their counterparts in the southern states. Still, at the end of the day they're all after ya Rupees so Marit's taken to learning, and then shouting, a few lines rich in expletives and short in courtesy!
Architectually the city, once dubbed the "Paris of the East" by it's rich and famous colonial fathers, is stunning. The world's busiest bridge, Howrah, dominates the skyline and links the city's north and south suburbs. Beneath it the streets teem with life making any journey by any means almost impossible.
Architectually the city, once dubbed the "Paris of the East" by it's rich and famous colonial fathers, is stunning. The world's busiest bridge, Howrah, dominates the skyline and links the city's north and south suburbs. Beneath it the streets teem with life making any journey by any means almost impossible. It's here, under the bridge, that remains a vivid picture of how the city must have been in the 60s and 70s when it swelled with disease and poverty to become the world's biggest slum. The sight of the children and the conditions they're forced to endure really is quite disturbing. But a few minutes walk away all is beautiful again.
Buildings like the Victoria Memorial and Writers' Club wouldn't be outof place in Paris or London, while the Maidan park area extends milesbreaking up the concrete monotony.Saw our first Cobra too - well we couldn't miss it seeing as some Indian bar steward had lassooed me off the street and had the thingcurled around me neck quicker than I could say "no want to take part".That was bad enough, but when the little towrag demanded 50 Rupees forfrightening the excrement outta me I nearly lost the plot! 
Managed to blag our way into Kolkata, and West Bengal's, oldest Pressclub with a card that expired three years ago (it says it all aboutthe dum prats) and had a good ol'drink in a few splendid hotels.Teamed up here with our neighbours from Pooja in Havelock (Yanir,Carmel and Adam) - which made for some interesting late nights - andmade a decision to hit the northern state of Sikkim together in a fewweeks for a shot at the Himalayas.
Managed to blag our way into Kolkata, and West Bengal's, oldest Pressclub with a card that expired three years ago (it says it all aboutthe dum prats) and had a good ol'drink in a few splendid hotels.Teamed up here with our neighbours from Pooja in Havelock (Yanir,Carmel and Adam) - which made for some interesting late nights - andmade a decision to hit the northern state of Sikkim together in a fewweeks for a shot at the Himalayas.
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