Kalcutta's Bloody 'Ot
Kolkata, February 16 2005
Hey there my band of brothers (and sisters).
Well, I've made it to Kolkata (formerly Calcutta). I've only been here 36hrs but first impressions are good, it's certainly less manic than Delhi and the Bengali people, seem, on the surface, to be more friendly.
Before I go on, I've got a new excuse for typing errors - the keyboard I'm using has had all but three of the keys letters rubbed off, so it's a bit of a lottery. Of course, it doesn't excuse
punctuation,but,Ive,always'.been,one,for:throwing',in,unnecessary<:commas! I want to talk a little about cattle. When I was young, I was an avid reader of Herges Adventures of Tintin (ah, Capt Haddock, the Thomson twins (not of Doctor, Doctor fame Nigel), Professor Calculus etc...). In one of his adventures, Tintin found himself in the Himalayas and when chasing the evil baddie, lost him when a cow decided to sit in the road and no traffic could
pass. At the time I thought that must be poetic license (actually, aged 8, I'd doubt I knew what poetic license was), however, after 2 weeks in India, I can confirm that it's absolutely true! I could sit here and tell you numerous bovine related tales but you haven't come here for that (What have you come for?). One though must be reported:
Waiting at Varanassi train station (a long wait, my train was 2 1/2 hrs late), I watched a cow cross three platforms and settle down to eat the litter on the tracks of platform 6. 5 minutes later the Bangalore express coming in to platform 6, with horns blazing, grinds to a halt in front of
the cow! No attempt was made to move the cow and the train just sat there, waiting for it to move. Ten minutes elapsed, the cow having eaten it's fill of rubbish, moved off to pastures new (platform 5), the train entered the station and life resumed as normal (although, I think what had occurred was normal, so can't be certain what normal is anymore).
I lied when I said only one cow story - in Varanassi, herds of cattle roam the streets and one has to be very careful. I walked round a bend the other day and was pinned against the wall by a very large buffalo type. The entire length of it's very leathery body dragged across my arm and it took two days to scrub the dirt out. Given that Varanassi is not a only a dry city but is also veggie, it's very unfair on us omnivores. I had my swiss army knife to hand at the time and was close to carving off some rump there and then and eating very fresh carpaccio.
Ok, back to Calcutta (you can take the man out of the Raj but you can't take the Raj out of the man). Two interesting facts (interesting to me, boring as hell to you no doubt). I always thought that the phrase 'the black hole of Calcutta' referred to it's notoriety as a dirty, poverty stricken city. Well, I'm not ashamed to say I was wrong. The more erudite (that's not a typing error, I just don't know how to spell the word, actually, I think that's right - I'm waffling aren't I? It's the heat). I'll start again: The more erudite among you probably know the real meaning of the phrase but for those of you who've spent many a long night wondering just what it means,
let me lessen your burden:-
The black hole was actually a tiny guard-room in the fort (Fort William), and, according to the British version of the story, 146 Brits & other European were forced into it on that fateful night when the city fell to Siraj-ud-dual (oh him, I hear you cry). The next morning, only 23, were still alive. Historians suggest the numbers of the prisoners and fatalities were exaggerated in a British propaganda exercise (spin didn't start with A Campbell Esq); there were probably only half as many incarcerated and half as many deaths. Today the building is a post office and there's no
recognition of the events.
The weather here today is 34 degrees and in an effort to pay my respects to the dead and understand what they went through, I've booked myself into a 300 rupee (about 4 quid) a night cell, with no window, a very slow fan and hot water by the bucket!
Calcutta is a Marxist city and the government has started re-naming the roads. The guide books give the new road names but the taxi drivers use the old ones!. The renaming has lead to some funny map references. Victoria Terrace (named for the Queen), leads into Ho Chi Min St (She would be amused) and Shakespeare Road, leads into Lenin St!
That about wraps it up for now folks - there's a two day cricket match going on, on the outskirts of Eden Gardens (yet another mail with a cricket reference - get used to it). I watched the last hour of it last night and it was an exclusively leg-spin attack - eventually, India will have to opposite problem to England (two or three of you will know what I mean, I'll leave
the rest of you guessing!)
S'long and thank you for the fish (to all of you who've read the Hitch Hikers guide to the Galaxy).
Lot's of love.
Johnny
P.S. One last thing - in Greece last summer, I read William Thackery's Vanity Fair (a book I'd recommend to all of you). Well, (cliche alert) it's a small world. The hotel I booked into last night is next to WT's birth-place! No wonder his book was amusing, he had to have a sense of humour if he started life here!
Sunday, 22 February 2009
Around the world in 15 mails - No.2 (Agra)
Khan Builds Ornamentally
Agra, February 8 2005
..................in the words of Rolf Harris "can you see what it is yet"?
Isa Khan was the chief architect of the Taj Mahal, after completion of the task, he and others involved were rewarded by being blinded and having theirhands cut off, so they would not be able to better it. Something I think Prince Charles wanted to do to Sir Norman Foster a few years ago.
So, here I am in Agra and the Taj Mahal really is one of the 1000 places you should see before you die (thanks Karin for the inspiration!). I turned up with an open mind, half expecting it to be a bit a of cliche and disappointing in real life - I was very wrong. Admittedly it was crowded and almost impossible to get 'the photo' but I persevered and two hours later had fired off two films. When I look at them in 5 months time, most will probably look the same!
I had been set the challenge of recreating the pictures my Grandfather had taken when he served here during WW2. I think i got most of them! Not wanting to sound overly romantic, it was a bit 'spine-tingly' knowing I was re-tracing his steps, 60 years on. I reckon it must have been very different then, for a start I doubt the locals were allowed to hassle British Army Officers and for a split second yesterday, after the 100th person had offered me a postcard/photo/tour guide/rickshaw (delete as applicable), I wished I had here 60 years ago myself and had made 'an example' of one of them!
Agra is a welcome break from Delhi and at my hotel last night I met yet more travellers, this time 2 girls from Canada and Austria respectively and the strangest German man ever, with that combination of nationalities, it could have been Dieppe all over again.
This morning I visited Agra Fort, built by the Mugal Emperors, captured by the Afghans, re-captured by the Mughals and then, the good ole' peace loving English took it in 1803 and tried their level best to ruin it. Shan Jahan, who had the Taj Mahal built, (as you probably know, as a mausoleum for his favourite wife - Mahal (he had 5000 wives) - when she died in child birth
delivering their 14th son!)), was imprisoned in the fort by his son Auranzbeg, and for the last 6 years of his life gazed across the river Yamuna at the Taj, where,after his son had him killed, he was buried alongside her, with little ceremony. Watch out Dad!
Tonight I leave Agra on the night train to Varanasi. Varanasi, once called Benares was described by Mark Twain as follows "Benares is older than time, older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together". Heaven knows what I'm in for then!
Thank you for your various responses to my first mail. Given my time constraints, I hope you'll forgive me for not responding to you individually.
Lastly, I have a new mobile number for India, as follows, 9818 251 246. I don't know the international code, I'll leave that up to you to suss out!
Adieu, to yer and yer and yer and yer.
Johnny
Agra, February 8 2005
..................in the words of Rolf Harris "can you see what it is yet"?
Isa Khan was the chief architect of the Taj Mahal, after completion of the task, he and others involved were rewarded by being blinded and having theirhands cut off, so they would not be able to better it. Something I think Prince Charles wanted to do to Sir Norman Foster a few years ago.
So, here I am in Agra and the Taj Mahal really is one of the 1000 places you should see before you die (thanks Karin for the inspiration!). I turned up with an open mind, half expecting it to be a bit a of cliche and disappointing in real life - I was very wrong. Admittedly it was crowded and almost impossible to get 'the photo' but I persevered and two hours later had fired off two films. When I look at them in 5 months time, most will probably look the same!
I had been set the challenge of recreating the pictures my Grandfather had taken when he served here during WW2. I think i got most of them! Not wanting to sound overly romantic, it was a bit 'spine-tingly' knowing I was re-tracing his steps, 60 years on. I reckon it must have been very different then, for a start I doubt the locals were allowed to hassle British Army Officers and for a split second yesterday, after the 100th person had offered me a postcard/photo/tour guide/rickshaw (delete as applicable), I wished I had here 60 years ago myself and had made 'an example' of one of them!
Agra is a welcome break from Delhi and at my hotel last night I met yet more travellers, this time 2 girls from Canada and Austria respectively and the strangest German man ever, with that combination of nationalities, it could have been Dieppe all over again.
This morning I visited Agra Fort, built by the Mugal Emperors, captured by the Afghans, re-captured by the Mughals and then, the good ole' peace loving English took it in 1803 and tried their level best to ruin it. Shan Jahan, who had the Taj Mahal built, (as you probably know, as a mausoleum for his favourite wife - Mahal (he had 5000 wives) - when she died in child birth
delivering their 14th son!)), was imprisoned in the fort by his son Auranzbeg, and for the last 6 years of his life gazed across the river Yamuna at the Taj, where,after his son had him killed, he was buried alongside her, with little ceremony. Watch out Dad!
Tonight I leave Agra on the night train to Varanasi. Varanasi, once called Benares was described by Mark Twain as follows "Benares is older than time, older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together". Heaven knows what I'm in for then!
Thank you for your various responses to my first mail. Given my time constraints, I hope you'll forgive me for not responding to you individually.
Lastly, I have a new mobile number for India, as follows, 9818 251 246. I don't know the international code, I'll leave that up to you to suss out!
Adieu, to yer and yer and yer and yer.
Johnny
Around the world in 15 mails - No.1 (Delhi)
Kites, Buzzards, Ospreys
Delhi, February 6 2005
Hi Gang!
Two pieces of housekeeping first - the title will be relatively meaningless to all but three of you. I wont go into details but keep a look out for similar titles in future mails!
Secondly, please excuse typing/grammar errors, I'm being charged a lot for using the internet so don't want to waste time!
Okay. Well here I am in Delhi. I've been here four whole days now and the best way to describe it is that it's a curates egg. The sites (Humayan tomb, Qutab Minar Tower, The Red Fort, Jamma Mijid Mosque, India Gate, the Secretariat etc) are amazing - ranging from ancient Muslim architecture to Lutchyns early 20th century precision. Sadly, the city is let down by its people! You cannot walk 5 yards without being hassled, you spend your whole time with your hand grasping your wallet and are forever having to come up with ellaborate stories about how "this is not my first time in India" (an acceptable and recommended lie).
The title of this mail, whilst obscure to many of you, is apt. If you travel to the Black Mountains in Wales, or perhaps the Highlands of Scotland, you might, if lucky, catch a glimpse of an ellusive red kite or a honey buzzard. In Delhi, you are bombarded by them constantly. They seem to be more prevalent than pidgeons (I guess because they eat them!) and are a spectacular site swooping from on high to your balcony, show boating a bit and then buggering off! At Humayans tomb they wander around the battlements much like the ravens do at the Tower of London - I'm afraid the Delhi kites sneak it on the style front.
I've met my first Aussie travellers - two girls, Alex and Annii. We drank coffee together and they gave me lots of advice. They started in the south and are working their way north. We're going to meet up in Varanasi (Benares for you old school Raj types) in few days and do the usual boat trip on the Ganges and wallow in others misery as we watch open air cremations on the ghats and see the bodies float down the rovers. To be honest the smell of a cremation is preferable to the smell of Delhi, which is the stale stench of you know what with a good measure of diesiel thrown in - yum!
Tomorrow I leave Delhi on the Taj Express train, bound for Agra and the Taj Mahal. Delhi is a place people should see if they're lucky enough to get the chance but not somewhere to settle down and bring up a family!
Oh, I nearly forgot. Having having spent the first 2 nights in an ok 4 star hotel, I moved to a very basic 1 star job. I went out for a bite to eat in the evening and the restaurant next door was GREEK! Can you believe it. It opened last week and is owned a lady from Saloniki! I ate souvlaki and feta cheese, drank quite good greek coffee and nattered away in broken Greek for half the night. I think we (the owner and I) were equally shocked - she hasn't uttered a word of Greek for two years, which was just as well given my skills in that department! Very strange indeed.
That about wraps it up for now (talking of wraps - it's bloody cold by the way - today is grey and rainy, I've been cold for 3 days and regret not having packed that jumper Mum!). I'll send my next update from Agra, or more probably, Varanassi.
Lots of love to you all.
Johnny.
Delhi, February 6 2005
Hi Gang!
Two pieces of housekeeping first - the title will be relatively meaningless to all but three of you. I wont go into details but keep a look out for similar titles in future mails!
Secondly, please excuse typing/grammar errors, I'm being charged a lot for using the internet so don't want to waste time!
Okay. Well here I am in Delhi. I've been here four whole days now and the best way to describe it is that it's a curates egg. The sites (Humayan tomb, Qutab Minar Tower, The Red Fort, Jamma Mijid Mosque, India Gate, the Secretariat etc) are amazing - ranging from ancient Muslim architecture to Lutchyns early 20th century precision. Sadly, the city is let down by its people! You cannot walk 5 yards without being hassled, you spend your whole time with your hand grasping your wallet and are forever having to come up with ellaborate stories about how "this is not my first time in India" (an acceptable and recommended lie).
The title of this mail, whilst obscure to many of you, is apt. If you travel to the Black Mountains in Wales, or perhaps the Highlands of Scotland, you might, if lucky, catch a glimpse of an ellusive red kite or a honey buzzard. In Delhi, you are bombarded by them constantly. They seem to be more prevalent than pidgeons (I guess because they eat them!) and are a spectacular site swooping from on high to your balcony, show boating a bit and then buggering off! At Humayans tomb they wander around the battlements much like the ravens do at the Tower of London - I'm afraid the Delhi kites sneak it on the style front.
I've met my first Aussie travellers - two girls, Alex and Annii. We drank coffee together and they gave me lots of advice. They started in the south and are working their way north. We're going to meet up in Varanasi (Benares for you old school Raj types) in few days and do the usual boat trip on the Ganges and wallow in others misery as we watch open air cremations on the ghats and see the bodies float down the rovers. To be honest the smell of a cremation is preferable to the smell of Delhi, which is the stale stench of you know what with a good measure of diesiel thrown in - yum!
Tomorrow I leave Delhi on the Taj Express train, bound for Agra and the Taj Mahal. Delhi is a place people should see if they're lucky enough to get the chance but not somewhere to settle down and bring up a family!
Oh, I nearly forgot. Having having spent the first 2 nights in an ok 4 star hotel, I moved to a very basic 1 star job. I went out for a bite to eat in the evening and the restaurant next door was GREEK! Can you believe it. It opened last week and is owned a lady from Saloniki! I ate souvlaki and feta cheese, drank quite good greek coffee and nattered away in broken Greek for half the night. I think we (the owner and I) were equally shocked - she hasn't uttered a word of Greek for two years, which was just as well given my skills in that department! Very strange indeed.
That about wraps it up for now (talking of wraps - it's bloody cold by the way - today is grey and rainy, I've been cold for 3 days and regret not having packed that jumper Mum!). I'll send my next update from Agra, or more probably, Varanassi.
Lots of love to you all.
Johnny.
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