With the train journey cleansed out of my system, a refreshing swim in the perfect pool temperature and a light-ish lunch of mutton-curried tacos washed down by a ridiculously expensive Kingfisher, I felt energised and ready to tackle a city that I knew was going to be full on judging by the earlier Uber ride from the station. I wasn’t wrong.
The overwhelming first impression of the city – which was the known as the first Capital of the British Empire – was of a crazed energy that surpassed Mumbai and an intensity to horn honking that made the other cities seem relatively peaceful. Louder, harder, longer seems to be the motto. And all forms of transport coming at you from every single direction. Human pulled rickshaws, bicycle rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, bike pulled cargo trollies, human pulled cargo trollies, cars, rickety minibuses, rickety buses, both with people hanging out the doors and jumping on and off as they slowed down at stops and the clapped out yellow and black Ambassador taxis. All basically honking like it’s going out of fashion. And then people. Especially people with massive boxes, packs of things, packs of vegetables, people carrying iron bars. Everywhere. And then touts. Lots of them. Lots of hassle. I walked around the New Market – just round the corner from the Oberoi – and it was to a level I hadn’t experienced for a long time. I quit while the going was good and headed for the maidan and towards the Victoria Memorial. Walking across the park, I was invited to play cricket. There were no stumps, just a brick. Not that it made any difference as I went out for a duck! Never was much of a cricketer.
The Victoria Memorial was stunning and I arrived in enough time before closing to wander around as the only white face in the whole place. In fact in these 2 days, I have not seen a single white face outside of the hotel. It has felt like they are sheltering in the safety, comfort and oasis of calm that is the Oberoi not wanting to confront the very soul of this city and its chaos. I’m sure that’s not the case as there is so much here to see.
The Victoria Memorial has now had all of its various colonial artefacts removed by PM Modi and there is an exhibition on India’s First War of Independence.
Next up was St Pauls Anglican Cathedral, the first of its kind outside of the UK, closely followed by St Johns Cathedral in Hong Kong – where my wife and I got married. There was some similarity. Outside the Cathedral, I stopped for some roadside chai – all of which in this city has been fabulous – before looking for some eating options and happened to notice a micro-brewery listed. Well that sounded worth a visit although it was a little bit of a hike after a tiring 48+hrs but it came with the benefit of building up a thirst.
It was a little hard to find the Scrapyard Brewing company despite a prominent neon sign as it was tucked away behind a petrol station and on the top floor and roof of possibly an office building guarded by one very casual guard and quite a few of his buddies who were sat around doing not much really. The pointed me towards the lift and said 7. The bar was pretty empty but I could tell it was the sort of place where cool young Kolkatans would hang out later in the evening, with expensive small plates and pretty expensive beer. Most of the beers were appealing – never been a fan of flavoured beer and as much as I love mango (think I’ve eaten about 4 in 2 days), mango beer aint going to cut it. That left me with wheat beer which I’m not a fan of but will drink when there is nothing else. Which was the case. But I had a legitimate thirst on me and it went down well, so I ordered a second before heading off to a Bengali restaurant that seemed to have good reviews which was again a bit of a hike through the honking mad streets.
I was the only person in the restaurant when I sat down which worried me but the waiter, or supervisor as he basically stood hovering over me most of the time but engaging in some nice conversation, assured me it got busy later as Bengalis liked to eat later. He seemed to be right as more people came in as I got closer to the end of my meal. Which was totally delicious other than the fact that the mutton British colonial style (seemed fitting) had more bone than meat but the sauce was great and followed a classic local dish of a fried fish cutlet with Kasundi which is fermented mustard seeds, spices and sometimes dried mangoes and is a popular dipping sauce. It is really good.
Heading back to the hotel the intensity levels of chaos had seemed to step up a gear in the neighbourhood I was in. Totally brilliant mind staggeringly mad entertainment. Walk through the market, get hassled more and almost dragged in to shops. Manage to escape back to the serenity of the Oberoi and sleep well in a bed that is not made of blue plastic and rattles along from side to side.
