We were starting to feel really at home at the hotel. We had laundry drying in the room, we could walk around our quarter without a map, we knew the best place for chai and the cheap place for beer, we'd tried most of the best restaurants (the blog space is too small to show all the places we've been, and Henri begs me to keep it short all the time), the important stuff to see and do, and some locals have begun to recognize us when we pass by -- but we hadn't realized there were other things to see just around the corner from our hotel, and we absolutely had to ride the buses and trams!
On our 6th day, we went east and saw an entirely new face of Kolkata. Not as clean as the rest of the city, but definitely not as dirty as Delhi. There was a small church and a mosque, and since it was a Sunday, lots of weddings too.
The locals were not used to seeing foreigners in their quarter so we got peculiar glances. Once we hit the main road, we were greeted again with the familiar "hello, ricksha!" But all the places we wanted to see were just a few minutes from each other.
First we went to St. Andrew's Church, which was lovely on the inside, it looked like it had a lot of history. But it hasn't had a mass since the spring of 2010 because of repairs.
Then we went to the "Motherhouse" which is the nunnery of the Missionaries of Charity.
Here, we paid a visit to the tomb of Mother Teresa. Going inside, I was hit by a very powerful surge of emotion; so strong that in seconds, I was a crying mess. It wasn't a big mausoleum, or a room covered in gold worthy of a person of her status, but this place with a single slab of marble made me feel like I was in the presence of a great soul.
Well, her spirit may not be among us, but the spirit of her deeds continues to inspire. We saw her spartan room, the tiny museum about her life of selflessness, and it made me think hard about the things that had preoccupied me in my old life. I prayed that she might meet my father in heaven, and tell him we are all doing alright.
Silly as it sounds, a few steps outside the Motherhouse, there was a souvenir shop selling crap with Mother Teresa's face on them. How tasteless! But then there was also a woman trying to befriend us outside the nunnery so we could buy her child some milk formula (1,000 Rs in a fake store but only maybe 200 Rs in a real store) -- the oldest trick in the Delhi handbook.
But then when you realize how big the disparity is between the rich and the poor, you can understand why some people might abuse their world status as the "poor people of Calcutta" to earn a few bucks... On the other hand, you also see this Jaguar store next to a road like this - where do the rich even think they can drive a Jaguar in Kolkata?
Further down the road is South Park Street Cemetery, which is waaaay off the beaten track. It's a quiet, mossy park that happens to have some graves from the 1700s giving it a creepy-cool ambience, like a scene from Interview With A Vampire.
It reminded us a bit of Pere Lachaise, except there were no tourists.
We were the only people there, save for 2 boys flying a kite... but maybe they were ghosts.
The tombs and memorials were so European...
Except for this temple-looking thing.
It wans't as big as we thought, 10 minutes in, we could see the big buildings just behind.
After all that walking, we were in the mood for chai.
We went to the Tea Junction again, because it's sure to be creamy and thick... and guess who we saw in the wall of who's whos: Spot the Mother Teresa!
Speaking of... we saw nuns from her order again after chai. I felt a little better after I saw their reaction to the annoying bum beggars. They were annoyed too!
We were in an adventurous mood so we went ahead and walked to the restuarant that was chosen as Lonely Planet's pick for Bengali food.
Our feet were hurting because we walked ALL DAY, it was time to try the clanking contraption that called itself a tram.
It was so cool!
Day 7.
The next morning, we woke up early to pack our things and leave them at the hotel's waiting area. We had one whole day to waste before taking the night train to Puri, and this time we went to the university area by taking a bus. Oooh, the adventure!
Unfortunately, there was a rally that day and no one seemed to have bothered to redirect the traffic.
We got out at the corner before the flower market, which is just a few feet from Howrah bridge.
The bridge is suspended over Hoogly River, which is also has a few ghats. Pictures are not allowed on the bridge, and we are guessing it's to prevent tourists from taking pictures of people bathing on the ghats. We told the policeman we only wanted to take a pic of the bridge (because Henri likes it so) and the policeman said yes.
That didn't stop people from trying to stop us from taking pictures, though. All they knew was there's a sign that says no picture taking (in English and Hindi), but they can't really read so they don't know that it says "no picture taking ON the bridge" and not "OF the bridge." Just like the incident at Kalighat, where taking pictures of the goddess is not allowed, but taking pictures of the temple is okay. But trying to explain this to people is a waste of time, energy, and precious moments of sanity.
Next, we entered the maze of markets going to old Chinatown, where there hasn't been a single Chinese face since the Chinese were driven off in the 60s.
There was hardly any room to move because the small streets was a free-for-all for rickshaws, trucks, bikes, carts and human traffic.
The area, called Barabazaar, is colorful and chaotic. It also has Christian churches, a synagogue, Hindu temples and a mosque.
The Armenian Church, which is the oldest Christian church in Kolkata.
We also got some clothespins for the laundry in the market.
There's also the Portuguese Holy Rosary church... whose gates local merchants have turned into a supermarket for household wares.
The Jewish synagogue, which was hidden behind bracelet stalls.
Wedding invite stall.
Sari-sari stall.
We zig-zagged through the streets and found the mosque, which was surrounded by carpet stalls and wig shops...
The old Chinese temple that has been turned into a school...
And the "elephant gate" which were used by rich Chinese merchants who needed a garage for their elephants!
After having our fill of religious buildings, we looked for Indian Coffee House. I thought, if it's going to be as good as the Indian Coffee House in gwalior, then it would be worth the trouble of walking to it.
It was difficult to find Indian Coffee House, unfortunately it wasn't worth the effort. It's a historic place, for sure, but the service was bad (our waiter threw the chair at the woman who needed to sit). The waiters are rude, and when I went to the second floor to take a picture, a waiter who thought we were just passing through went "psst" at me and signaled that I shouldn't take a picture. The food and coffee were awful too. What a disappointment!
On our way to look for a tram back to the hotel, we saw another rally. This time it was a bunch of teachers with loudspeakers, huddled around a statue of Ghandi.
We found a helpful guy who told us how to get back to the hotel by tram, he even made sure that the bus guy stops the tram at the right spot for us. We are starting to recognize the kind of face of people we can ask directions from without fear that he will try to sell us something or worse, just wobble his head at us.
Now being more confident with cheap transportation, we took the tram and the bus going to the train station to catch our night trip to Puri. Instead of paying 150 Rs for a taxi, we spent less than 20 Rs for the both of us.
Next stop, the beach town of Puri in Orissa!
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