12 hours in Calcutta: impressions from a moving vehicle

I learned almost everything I know about India from watching teams battle it out on “The Amazing Race” over the last decade. Over one 12-hour period, we seemed to experience it all — except for a head shaving.

10am: Smooth landing in Calcutta (CCU) only to find out Druk Air had not loaded half our luggage on the plane. We stood in line at the Customs counter to fill out forms with many other disgruntled passengers that magically seemed to get served before we did, although we were third in line.

11:30am: Buy tickets for a taxi at the airport “Pre-Paid Counter.” The price went from 400 rupees, plus luggage fees to 250 rupees for everything.

11:31am: Taxi driver is asleep in the back seat. It then takes 3 or 4 tries to start the ancient vehicle. Had we been running the Amazing Race, that would have been our clue to find a different taxi.

11:40am: Our sweaty arms are sticking together in the back seat of the cab. The taxi driver spits out the window, but it flies into Sheila’s face in the backseat.

11:46am: There’s a woman picking lice out of a man’s head as they sit on the sidewalk with their young child. The only shelter they have is a sheet tied to a low fence.

11:55am: Flat tire. Another clue to find a different taxi. We remove our luggage from the trunk so our driver can access the bald spare tire.

11:56am: Kids are collecting empty ceramic containers at the tire repair kiosk on the side of the road. I give one to them that I find and they giggle when I make a face.

12:02pm: Taxi is on the roll again. We’re weaving in and out of narrow congested lanes of traffic along with crowded buses and scooters squeezing through any remaining space. All drivers are beeping their horns and I’m trying to crack the code to figure out what it means.

12:20pm: Arrival at the Fairlawn Hotel, where we’re greeted by the 91-year-old proprietor Violet Smith, who is having tea on the hotel’s garden patio. Our reservation is under the wrong day (my fault), but they still have a room for us. Even though we’re not staying overnight, I felt it might be a good idea to have a place to escape from the heat and take showers before the long plane ride home. This hotel is affordable, highly recommended and centrally located.

1:15pm: Have “fish and chips” and “beans and toast” on the hotel patio under a fan, where we meet three British girls who have been volunteering at an orphanage for three months. I ask for their advice on what to do with our short time in India. “Don’t bother with the Indian Museum,” they tell me. “Go to the Victoria Memorial.” They proceed to tell me that even though things are a short walk away, take a taxi because it’s hot. And there’s a trick to the taxi fare. “Make sure they turn on the meter and, at the end, pay them double the price shown, plus two rupees.” One last recommendation: “Go to New Market behind the Oberoi Grand Hotel to shop for sarees and other souvenirs. Sarees can cost anywhere from $20 to $200.”

1:17pm: Chris chats with a friend’s mom on the phone. She asks us to meet her at Tollygunge Club for tea at 4 p.m.

2:23pm: Sheila, Chris and I head down to the corner of Sudder and Jawaharlal Nehru Road to catch a taxi and encounter a herd of goats on the way.

2:30pm: Arrive at The Victoria Memorial sweaty and gross. Entrance fee: 10 rupees for locals, 150 for foreigners. It’s nice and cool inside.

3:13pm: Head back to the hotel room to drop of Sheila. The taxi driver spits out the window, but it flies into Sheila’s face in the backseat. I’m guessing she will not sit directly behind a taxi driver ever again.

3:30pm: Back in a taxi bound for the Tollygunge Club.

3:46pm: Traffic is stopped because of some kind of wedding parade. Woman in bright-colored sarees are walking down the sidewalk with splotches of red powder on their faces, backs and arms. I hear a band playing.

3:50pm: We get word that Sheila is bound for the airport to collect the luggage that has arrived from Bhutan.

3:56pm: We’re a few minutes early at the club, so we stroll the oasis-like setting of the club.

4:15pm: Our friend’s mother plies us with more food at the patio bar overlooking the golf course. Chicken sandwiches, pancakes and Dosa (a South Indian specialty that has a crepe-like shell and potato filling that you can also get in Cleveland at Udupi in Parma, Ohio). YUM. We drank it all down with Lemon Barley, made with Kinley lemon soda (a Coca-Cola product).

6:15pm: After dropping them at their home, their driver takes us back to New Market for our shopping excursion. We first go to their recommended vendor, but the prices are higher than I’d like to pay. Into the chaos, we go. It’s not too bad, though. I find three sarees for 850 rupees each at Gangadin Gupta in New Market’s new complex, which has a broken escalator and sweltering heat. At least the store is air conditioned. The girl next to me thinks the green looks best with my eyes.

7pm: Back to the hotel to pack and shower off the day’s 100-plus heat.

7:15pm: Sheila arrives with the bags.

8:15pm: Head to dinner. Start to sweat the minute we step out into the street.

8:30pm: Arrive at the Oberoi Grand’s Thai restaurant called Baan Thai — widely recognized as the best Thai in India. I’m not really hungry, though.

9:45pm: Pay the bill on the most expensive Thai food I’ve ever eaten.

10pm: Back to the hotel to collect our belongings.

10:30pm: We thought we had an air conditioned hotel car to take us to the airport, but the driver went home for the night. The security guard finds us a taxi, but all the luggage doesn’t fit in the trunk. The driver ties the trunk closed with a red cloth. We haggle over the price, and settle on 500 rupees, but not before tempers flare between Kevin, the hotel security guard and the driver.

10:31pm: The most harrowing taxi ride in my life commences. Barreling through the busy streets in the dark, our driver managed to cut down the hour-long ride to 20 minutes.

10:50pm: Back at the airport for our flight home.