It's Siliguri, therefore it's Friday (I think!)

Greetings from Siliguri!
I'm now in many miles north of Kolkata and about to launch into Sikkim.  You are supposed to get glimpses of the foothills of the Himilayas from here but all I have have glimpsed is roof tops, and yet more roof tops.  But tomorrow, I hope, will bring some hills.

So, where to begin?  The journey over was fine and I remember looking down an evalator at the richness of the shopping area with sparkling marble-like floors at Heathrow and wondering what on earth Mumbai airport would be like, and imagining that the next time I see such luxuries would be in NZ.  I am soooo pleased that I arrived at 00.45am - taking the taxi into "downtown" Mumbai felt fine as the warm air rushed through the taxi, and the roads were light on traffic.  The first thing you notice is the huge amount of people sleeping on the streets - for some, there's no choice, for others, it's cooler outside than in their abode.  Loads and loads of what we would call "shacks" (though after what I saw in Kolkata, a shack is a pretty substantial building).  And people just sleeping anywhere - on the pavement, in the road, on bales.  The area around the hotel was pretty well protected by police - I still haven't worked out all the different sorts of police yet - I'm sure helped by the fact I was staying a few buildings down from a very palatial hotel which was built by a Parsi man who was outraged that he couldn't get a room in a good hotel when he arrived in India a couple of centuries ago.  I wasn't very far off the Gateway to India (photo already supplied by Loz) and I was heartened to read that although built to commerate the arrival of George 5 and wife (woops might have got my kings mixed up - the dad of the Colin Firth!) in India, it was also the place where the British left - hoorah!  Overall Mumbai felt it was a mix of cool and trendy and bustlingness with a big dash of (indian) tourists.  I am of course speaking from my little seaside enclave.

On to 5.30am on Monday morning where I faced the great CST railway station and took a big breath and walked inside.  Again the first thing I noticed was probably about 150 people sleeping on the floor and people just walking around them.  I got told off by a policeman as I was standing too close to a queque of people who were then frogmarched onto the train - there was a a bit of breaking of the ranks and one of the police officers starting hitting a couple of people with these huge truncheons.  It was awful to witness in itself but always shadows of the Holocaust are present around people getting onto trains.  However I am sure that these people really did want to get onto the train.... Of course, no queques for AC 2nd Class 2 tier and no police to meter out punishment if we walked too quickly.  And so, my great train journey across India started.  I kept expecting Michael Palin to appear as I felt I was in a travel documentary.  India in the middle bit at least from Mumbai to Kolkata is incredibly flat after about the first 1.5 hours, fields after fields, after fields with villages, towns, villages, towns, water holes, different fields.  Which all sound quite dreary but I was totally immersed in the vast differences.  And when I wasn't looking out the window, I was being entertained by the fantastic pantry car staff and the numerous people walking down the train, calling out their wares.  I thought I was going to make friends on the trip but I was in a end berth and so had a little "cabin" to myself which was great as it gave me lots of space just to soak up being there.  It was a fantastic 30 hour trip and I felt well cared for by the staff.  I did get talking to a woman towards the end of the journey who was going to Kolkata to buy saris as her daughter was getting married in November and was invited to the wedding! 

Howrah Station is another of the famous Indian railway stations in Kolkata and I got of the train, having thanked the woman for her kind invitation but unfortunately would be in New Zealand etc etc.  I got into another pre-paid taxi and was taken to my next bed for the night.  Howrah is on the other side of the Houghly river which is huge and there is huge bridge over it, reputedly the world's busier bridge and I was introduced to the dleights of Indian driving...OMG is all I say.  Pedestrians, cycles, cycles rickshaws, auto rickshaws, taxis, cars, lorries, buses of various descriptions, and anything else which has a wheel were all going over this bridge with no lanes and no sense of safety.  I kept breathing in and thinking of that bus in Harry Potter film which getting very thin.  Then over the bridge and over a ramp and into the thronging mass that is Kolkata and suddenly the bridge felt a very safe place to be.  I shall never forget the view - people everywhere, walking, carrying huge loads on their hands, little stalls on the pavements, and on the streets, cycles, cars, buses, then suddenly a tram!  Incredible levels of poverty... people picking through rubbish piles, sleeping besides rubbish heaps.  And so noisey.... because everyone uses the "pavement" to live in, or work from, then people walk on the road and sometime on the pavement, and so everyone honks either to let you know that they are behind you or to get the slower vehicle in front to move over or just because.  So the streets are noisey from about 6.30 in the morning till about 11 at night.

Fraid I didn't see much of K as I had an attack of tummy problems, preceded by a nasty fall as I failed to negotiate a bit of the pavement (hope you realised that I am using the word pavement here in a loose way) so happy to leave K and take the train to north to Siliguri.  Siliguri is just as noisey but alot more manageable and tomorrow the bus to Sikkim!

will try and blog soon.