India, first impressions (can be deceiving)

India, first impressions

As the saying goes, one can only make one first impression. Well first thing I noticed at Kolkata airport was a big sign, covering up a construction site. It read “Work in progress”. You can easily apply that for most of what I’ve seen of this country so far. A lot of buildings are ‘under construction’, or are in the process of deterioration. Or maybe they’re already in decline whilst being under construction? Who can tell? Hard to say when you’re new to the ‘Great India’, as painted on many trucks, lorries and cabs. The markings ‘No refusal’ can also be seen regularly on the ‘Ambassador Classic’ taxicabs, a car that must have been designed somewhere in the late fifties. They must be still in production, as you can determine by the newish looks and interior that some of them got. The one that I was lured into at the airport must have dated back to those early editions of that car, the doors didn’t fit properly and it coughed and rattled like an old man on the verge of demise… But that’s okay. It was a short drive, first to an ATM machine that spewed out my first Roepiahs ever, and later on to a hotel that took my first 3000 of it. I felt obviously schemed into this steep room price, I didn’t like the room, the hotel was (how surprising!) ‘under construction’ and smelt like paint and dry wall fumes. But the hotel manager was insistent and a bit on the aggressive side as well. He was convinced that I couldn’t get a room anywhere else for less, and he wouldn’t let go. I was tired, I had taken the ‘Red Eye’ to Kolkata, and agreed reluctantly. The cab drivers help, the luring guy, wanted $10,- for the cab fare. I paid him, then he wanted to be paid for his ‘services’. I stood my ground and didn’t give him anything. He refused coins, so I told him to make better arrangements with this hotel manager of this hotel he trapped me into. All in all, not a great start. And I was determined to leave this dump in the morning. And so I did, and I managed to replace it with something even worse! Albeit a 1500 Roepiahs cheaper. The standard of the accommodation was accordingly. Guest House ‘Sheela’s’, the name is prettier than the outlooks. I took the small room, at first glance; it didn’t look so bad. How appearances can be deceiving! The bathroom was the dirtiest I encountered by far up till this point. I really had to go in their wearing my flip flops, avoiding dirt and ‘groundly’ transmitted diseases. Okay, the place had reasonably good WIFI, which was a ‘pro’, compared to the rest of the Indian accommodations I’ve been in yet.  Spend two nights in ‘Sheela’s’, waiting for the arrival of the bike. I basically locked myself in my room, only to open for room service, and go out for small errands. In Indian hotels and guest houses you’re supposed to ‘enjoy’ your meals at your room. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, all are served at your room. They did have a restaurant, but that wasn’t much of restaurant as we know it. The decorator surely must have tripped on LSD while painting the place, all the colours were mismatched and screamed ‘headache’ to me. But the food wasn’t that bad. Fried rice with sweet and sour chicken was actually quite good and digestible without the pepper burning sensations you might enjoy when digested Indian food is on its way out…

So much for ‘first impressions’, not all that good you might think. Well it’s been nearly a week now in India, and I’m still in the process of finding out its charms. A ‘work in progress’, let’s go with that.

Traffic

Well, there’s a subject that really deserves going into. A lot of trucks and cars have this text painted on the rear bumper: ‘Obey traffic rules’, it says. I’m not sure what rules they mean, but I guess the rule is that the biggest truck with the loudest horn wins every time ‘chicken’ is played out and horn the on storming traffic off to that side of the road they’re supposed to drive. In Thailand there is this ‘gentle and ordered chaos’. Rule of thumb is to ‘go with the flow’, and everybody is happy. There’re no arguments whatsoever, not that I’ve seen. Some small disagreements, maybe. In India, chaos rules. All the car-and truck drivers, motorcyclists and moped riders really lean on their horns with one hand, while driving with the other. It’s madness. In urban communities the traffic gets congested by the speed bumps and that induces a symphony of noise, beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I thought Italian drivers are the most obnoxious and rude in the world. Indian drivers really take the biscuit on that one. Yet, every time I expect to witness a head on collision they manage to steer away from it at the very, I mean the very, last moment. Those drivers either have nerves of steel, or they have a certain death wish that needs to be fed all the time. But that’s only the drivers. Pedestrians, children, animals, they all come into play into this real life ‘video game’ that is called ‘Indian traffic’. And it doesn’t grow on you either. If you get complacent, if you’re not sharp and don’t react as fast as you can, you’re in for a crash as fast as you can say ‘Namasté’.

So, the traffic is horrible, the food sort of okay, and accommodation wise there is a lot of room for improvement. Did nothing really good happened so far? Well, it did. I got the meet a fine bunch of DHL delegates that were drummed up to clear my bike and luggage through customs. They are among the nicest Indian people I met yet.

Mohanty, the Kolkata region manager stormed into ‘Sheela’s’ restaurant where I just had lunch. He looked worried, and thought I’d already checked out and left. But I wasn’t, as I was expecting his arrival, or Tarak who was assigned to pick me up. He told me that the clearance was about to take some more time than expected and asked me out for lunch. We lunched at Oxygen hotel, where he booked the best room for me in Kolkata available, at a discount price. Even cheaper than the first paint-fumed-construction-site-hotel. This was an A-class resort, where I felt a bit underdressed but who cares? I am on a journey, not on a fashion trip. After lunch we departed for the airport, where I met four other DHL guys, real heavy weights but the sweetest personalities. Pratap, Tarak (the Godfather, as he was referred to), Amrit and Soumen were there to meet me and get this custom clearance as fast as possible. Great fellows, with a great sense of humour as well. And that’s what I like most in people. If they are able to laugh every now and then. Life is serious enough, as it is. We went into this big customs building and what followed was a bit of ‘Kafka-Indian-style’. Really enjoyed it, seeing all these documents being approved and stamped by this colourful variety of civil servants. I can imagine that if I had to do this procedure as a private person, this would have taken me days I’m sure. They really like their procedures and protocols. But I noticed that these ‘DHL heavy weights’ pulled some strings for me that speeded up the whole thing into this half hour circuit. Really great, and many thanks again! I really needed that to boost my moral, that was on a bit of a downward spiral.

The biked appeared as it was so beautifully packed by the DHL Bangkok crew. It got opened up, just to see what was in the box of the bike. Just my stuff, nothing to see here officer. And away we were. Smooth as smooth as it can get. Let’s hope this will be an example for future reverence!

We agreed on having dinner that evening. Alas Mohanty wasn’t able to be present, but the rest of the ‘heavy weights’ I saw at seven o’clock that evening. I had my first real Indian food, that got washed down with a few ‘Black Dog’ whiskeys (great suggestion Soumen!). The evening progressed into a real interesting experience of which I won’t go into deeply, haha! Before dinner Amrit handed me a booklet wherein he had mapped out a route for me. This was exactly what I needed. And I did use it to make a route all the way to Kathmandu for the Garmin.

The next day, I met the DHL crew from Kolkata again. This was outside a small service point, very close to my hotel. A heart-warming send of and I was off into India with the Parcycle. And yes, the traffic did put on the pressure straight away. Four hours of Kolkata congested traffic went by, and there were no moments of relaxation I can recall. A really steep learning curve I can tell you. And now I’m three stages into the Kolkata-Katmandu leg, and I presume over a quarter of the stretch.

As this journey can’t be cut by a pair of scissors, I don’t plan further then one day ahead. That’s enough future for me. The road, well I talked about the traffic on the road extensively, has been as flat as it is in Holland. And if you squeeze your eyelids real tight, some landscapes do remind of my home stomping grounds. The rivers, the brick factories, some of the bridges and barrages. But that’s where similarities end! Most Dutch people are introverts, and really into themselves. Indian people react enthusiastic on the Parcycle and my appearance. Motorcyclist slow down to have a closer look, and their backseat drivers whip out their mobiles to shoot pictures and make selfies if they can. Yesterday two guys on a light motorbike stuck by me for over twenty minutes. “Please stop, so I can make selfie!” When I do stop, the bike draws a crowd almost immediately. As if I am from Mars or something. But it’s always in a pleasant non aggressive, non-intrusive way. Lots of children think I sell ice-cream, because of the cargo box and the way the bike is designed altogether. A minivan packed with schoolboys pressed their faces against the rear view window almost to a pulp after one of them made a gesture “What’s in the box?” “Ice-cream”, I gestured back. They went wild! A real funny moment.

Sometimes I get laughed at by workmen, who are belching out their laughs from (what else?) construction sites. Well you know, the can laugh all they want, for I care. I might look like a joke on two wheels to them, but I get to leave this country on it, doing what I like best. So who’s laughing now, eh?

If nothing drastic happens I could be in Kathmandu in ten days. That’s where I get reunited with my camping gear and warm clothes. Ready to go to take me into the Himalayas!