Kolkata

  As apprehensive as I was about it (after stories of theft and such), the trip to Kolkata on the regular sleeper wagon was uneventful. Unexpectedly, we had problems finding a decent hotel room. After several hours of roaming around Sudder Street and trying to free ourselves from some pesky touts, we found a place for the night and booked another for the remaining three. Given our traveling experience on this trip, it was some of the most expensive accommodation while only the most basic standards were met.

  Kolkata is a former capital of the British India, developed by merchants of the East India Company in 1686. Now, it is India's second biggest city at 14.7 million people. It is considered its cultural center, producing a good number of well-known intellectuals from film to science and everything in between. The remnants of British influence are everywhere, but nowhere are they more apparent than in the crumbing colonial architecture of the Victorian era. It is stunning, although it is a shame that most of the historical buildings are not up-kept properly, as seen especially in the architecture surrounding BBD Bag.

  One of the most impressive sights is the astonishing Victoria Memorial, a museum of Kolkata's history, dedicated to Queen Victoria of England, and the gardens that surround it. Said to be a cross between the Taj Mahal and the White House, its a popular spot for romantic rendez-vous. There's also a light show at night, both in Bengali and English, which provides a short summary of the colonial history.

  Kolkata, renamed from Calcutta in 2001 as part of the city's revitalization, is also a city of disparities. Aside from all its splendor, it ''houses'' a big population of the poor, so apparent in the large number of beggars on the street as well as the shack slums as you stumble into some neighborhoods. We went to the Mother's House, Mother Teresa's former residence, and got a glance into her lifetime's work with the truly destitute. Her mission still continues the work, and accepts volunteers to help out daily.

  It was also in Kolkata that we were able to get some insight into the Indian culture, specifically its marriage traditions. We shared a beer with a pair of Indian men in their early 20s. When Pawel jokingly asked one of them when he's getting married, he replied nonchalantly that probably in 2014, after he gets the fun out of his system. The way it works in his caste, he explained, is that his father gets about 30 propositions from families of interested “prospects”. The father then sorts out the offers, compares family backgrounds, the women's specifics such as health or profession, then chooses about half for his son's review. The son then takes a look at the offers, including the women's photographs. He then chooses about five for a meet and greet to see with whom he's compatible. Once a candidate is chosen, the engagement can last anywhere from a couple of days to a year. Convenient, isn't it? Although the story should be taken with a grain of salt, considering the man's ego or our surroundings, I do believe he presented us with a relatively accurate picture. Of course, everything depends on the caste.

  After 5 days in Kolkata and a bout with TD (supposedly up to 70% of travelers get it within two weeks of arriving in India – thank God for Z-pac!), we got on the long, 50 hour train to the south of India, a journey of about 2,439 km. Next stop? Overnight stay in Kolam, since we arrived late at night, and then another, this time half hour, train ride to blissful Varkala for some much needed vacation from vacation. And to all the eff you's right now, we love you too ;)

St. John's Church

BBD Bag

Victoria Memorial

Clean laundry

Line for those without reservations.  Good luck.

Varanasi, India

  As I mentioned, we crossed the border into India on the 30^th, on foot. After all the acrobatics with the visa, the paperwork was checked in an office that looked like a lemonade stand, with a generator that blew all the fumes straight into your face. But done and done. 

  Crammed like sardines, we took a jeep with some other tourists to Gorakhpur, a city some 3 hours away, from which we intended to get on a train to Varanasi. The city was a shock, even after the experiences in Nepal. Crowded, dirty, smelly, full of traffic and cows. But the difficult part was getting the train tickets. After being sent around three different counters, the women of the group stood in a women-only line (3 times shorter than others) to try to get the tickets. That didn't work, as we were told this counter didn't do reservations, right after we got to the front. We split up, half to guard luggage, while the other half went to a nearby agency to see if we could get tickets. The commission fee was exorbitant. Finally, we were told that if we waited for 2 hours, people would be selling back their reservation tickets, so we could, just maybe, be able to get something. Thank God for Walter, ½ of a Belgian couple from Leuven (!), a railway logistics operator by profession. Only his tenacity, or as he called it his pushiness, got us the tickets, as he got in behind another counter with the bureaucratic employee, and kept putting our application for reservation on top of his paperwork. It took teamwork, and you cannot imagine our relief, after 5 hours, at having the tickets in our hand. The train was relatively on time, although it took us a while to even find the appropriate wagon. After such an exhausting day, we slept pretty soundly in our sleeper seats, arriving in Varanasi at 8 in the morning, our first rail experience behind us.

  After searching around, we settled in at Puja Guest House, which has a rooftop restaurant with a great 360 view of the city. 

Varanasi ghats at night

 What's more, the place is a favorite stay for Martyna Wojciechowska, a well known travel journalist, as we were enthusiastically informed when the owners found out we are Polish. 

 The hotel is located in the northern part of the Old City, amid a maze of disorienting narrow streets, full of people, bikes, cows and garbage.

Daily congestion

 Determined and usually with a held breath to keep out the stink, we explored the streets and the nearby ghats, or stairs leading into the holy river of Ganges. Varanasi is an ancient living city, venerated in the Hindu religion as a place where people come to die and be cremated, which thus releases them from the cycle of reincarnation. Aside from the two designated burning ghats, where the cremations occur (I personally could not watch, although Pawel got an explanation of the whole procedure), other ghats drum with life. 

Burning ghat

Pawel even got a full body massage on one of the ghats

When in Rome...

Evening puja ceremony (blessing)

 People come to bathe and do laundry, cows sunbathe, touts try to sell you anything you desire, fake sudhus, or holy men, beg for money or try to pick up women, while the real ones perform their religious duties. 

Sudhu - P wasn't sneaky enough

Sudhu

 As different as they were, and as unaccustomed as we were to them, the ghats of Varanasi were an interesting experience. We took a boat on the Ganges, both at sunrise and sunset, to see the riverfront in the various lights. 

Lotus candle on Ganges

 We took a trip across the river to Fort Ramnagar, for a view of an eccentric maharaja's various artifacts, such as old cars, weapons and clothes. 

 We also finally had the chance the try some of the Indian food staples, such as delicious chai, dosas and lassis.  

  Most importantly, we found a quicker way to book train tickets, via a Foreign Tourist Office, and took advantage of it by getting tickets both for Kolkata (formerly Calcutta) and down south to Trivandum in Kerala, where we plan to spend Christmas. After four days of exploring Varanasi and saying a proper goodbye to our fellow Aussie travelers (with us all the way from Nepal!), we took an overnight train in a basic sleeper wagon to the surprisingly charming Kolkata.  

Royal Chitwan National Park

  So our ordeal with the Indian visa application wasn't over, as we found out on a Friday when we went to the embassy to complete the second part of the process. When we were trekking, they changed their procedure and visas were now issued on the following day. Since that was Monday for us, we had an unplanned weekend in Kathmandu. We took the time to simply sleep our butts off. On Monday, with huge relief, we picked up our passports, with the correct visa information.

  Tired of the hustle in Kathmandu, we took off for Suaraha, a village literally across the street from the Royal Chitwan National Park. A jungle. We found a simple room but with an ideal veranda. Most importantly, it was finally warm and quiet. With some trepidation, we took a wobbly canoe down the Rapt River, and then a guided walk through the jungle back, in search of some animals. And man, did it pay off. The first time we saw a rhino, I was ready to run. Known for their irritability, they were some of the more dangerous animals in the jungle. Imagine a huge car coming at you at 40 mph. What are your first instincts? But we stayed, and the experience was great. Something out of Jurassic Park. We also saw some crocodiles, monkeys, all types of birds and deer, even a tiger paw print.

Doesn't look real, does it?

Public transportation #2

Some R&R

Our hotel

Canoe ride

  The next day, we went on an elephant safari. Four to an elephant, we teamed up with some Germans and set off. The great thing was that since we were on top of the elephants, other animals were not afraid and allowed us to come up pretty close for some amazing views.

Gentle giants? Not always

That's what he gets for bothering an elephant

  After 3 days in Suaraha, we left on the 30^th for India, since our Nepali visas were expiring. But that is a story in itself.

Looong day.  Waiting for our first Indian rail experience.