A Couple French Fries Short of a Happy Meal

When living in a hostel here in Kolkata, there are a few different types of people that you come across.  There are the people who came here for similar reasons that I did, to volunteer.  There are those who have the travel bug and those who are simply living a transient life style.  One of the best learning experiences I have had is getting to interact with different people from all over the world.  There are those deeply religious people who have come to Kolkata for a spiritual pilgrimage or because God has led them on a path that has brought them here.  Then there are those that just love to experience the world and sample it's many flavors.  And then there is my personal favorite, the crazy people.

The Writer

The most obvious crazies leave you in no doubt in of their mental state and often leave a trail of wide stares, gaped mouths and suppressed giggles in their wake.  Take for instance this one woman.  Back in early February Hanna and I were siting on the roof of the Paragon where she was giving me a henna tattoo.  We were having a lovely time sitting in the afternoon sun listening to music when a woman plopped down in a near by chair.  While Hanna had been doodling up my arm, I was watching the kittens that lived on the roof scamper about.  After sitting for a moment the woman heaved a heavy sigh and mourned for the lack of proper care for the litter.  I informed her of how their mother was very active and attentive.  

"Yes," she worried, "but what do they eat? ... Do cats eat meat"

I paused for a moment  pondering whether this woman has forgotten that kitties are related to lions and were not always domesticated.  They did not simply poof into existence for us to create funny collages and youtube videos, but then replied, "Well they're still nursing, so mom just has to feed herself. "  During this I tried heartily to disguise the incredibly judgmental face that I was wearing.  I also, recalled the large number of rats and mice I had seen, the cat is probably just doing fine.

"I have a whole box of powdered milk at home," she said after a few minutes "I wish I would have thought to bring it."

Ok, a couple of things here.  First of all, no one likes powdered milk and I highly doubt that any stray cat living off of the big fat juice rats here would take powdered milk over fresh meat.  Second of all this woman is English, which means that she is upset that she didn't forsee the "need" cart he box of powdered milk from the UK to India to feed the cat that lives at the hostel that she just happened to stay at.  And third of all, I'm still not over the fact that she didn't know that cats eat meat!  

As I was mulling over the scene that had just played out, I noticed a man peering conspicuously over his book at the woman.  I saw that he was reading Harry Potter and in an attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction I asked him if it was his first time reading it.  We started chatting about the book and he said he had never read them but he was looking to read a book in English to improve his. Just as our banter was starting to really take off the woman interrupted us.

"You know, she stole that idea from me."

Oh boy...

"...J.K. Rowling.  I was going to write about them.  And I had a little book about the stories and I told it to her on a flight from Singapore. I told her all about it and she stole my book and she stole my idea.  I was going to write about Harry and Hermin and the redheaded guy."

W-w-what?  It is a well known fact that Ms. Rowling was just about broke when she started writing HP, so what was she doing in Singapore?  And Hermin and the redheaded guy?  Yes, those sound like great supporting characters.

The Foreigner

Not all crazies are as special as the writer.  Some just are a bit different or rather more difficult than others.  For a while we had a great run with roommates in our room. For many weeks there was a general feeling of comrodery between my roomies and me.  We were all very different people and in different part of our lives but we got along splendidly.  We ate meals together, we to the movies together and walked to the mother house every morning together.  But time passes and people move on and go on their separate paths and you have to just celebrate the fact that the universe was kind enough to bring you all together for one shining moment in time.  That, and try very hard not to take it out on your new roommate when they don't seem to be as agreeable.  After Hanna and Claire left, Rachel and I seemed to have a constant revolving door of people coming in and out of our dorm.  Most people were pleasant enough, or kept to themselves.  However, one man proved to be the most obnoxious of them all.

By this time, I had been in Kolkata for about six weeks and the temperature was staring to rise.  When I first arrived here, it was rather cold at night and I required a blanket when sleeping.  But by the end of February the heat stopped disappearing at nigh.  As I lay in bed one night, attempting to get comfortable, I realized that it wasn't going to happen and I found it necissary for the first time to turn our fan on.  I walked over to the switch on the wall and the man cried from his bed, "No, I am so cold.  Please, no fan."  I was rather sympathetic, he had been sick, so I complied, and went back to my bed, warm and sticky.

A few nights passed, and the heat really started to change and unfortunately my roommate had not.  We were not dipping below seventy five degrees at night and I attempted to turn the fan on a few more times but every time I got the same response.  At this point I wanted to ask ask if he was visiting Kolkata from the sun since he was so cold.  I also wanted to tell him to go get a sweater since he could layer up but I certainly couldn't strip down.

That night, Rachel woke up to a rustling sound in the room.  Remember the rats I talked about?  Well it seems my friend from the sun left a large bag of candy and treats on the floor under his bed and that the rats of the area were having a feast.  This guy officially won the title for worst roommate ever.  If you are going to be inconsiderate enough to turn our room into a Sizzler for rats then I can not give a crap about your cold.  From then on we slept with the fan on, he could suck it up.

The Animal Lover

Crazy people, just like normal people, come in all shapes and sizes.  Sometimes, you think that you could be talking to someone who is perfectly sane who then slowly over time reveals themselves to be otherwise. There was this exuberant young girl from France who was doing some volunteer work when I first started.  She was young with messy hair and blotchy skin but had a wonderful effervescent aura about her.  We chatted for a bit when I first met her and she seemed perfectly lovely.  A bit messy and her English was not very good but I was no ravishing beauty and I speak no other languages so who am I to judge.  Then after seeing her around a few times I notice that she was not like most people, who had their "dirty" days and their "clean" days but rather just looked as if she never showered, ever.  But again, who am I to judge?

One day my roommate Rachel came back from Titigar, the leper colony and was telling me this story of this girl who kept wandering away from the group.  When you get to the colony they specifically tell you to stay together when touring the grounds.  The actual colony is across these train tracks and surrounded by large piles of garbage and refuse.  Rachel was saying how stressful it was because this girl wandered off into the heaps of trash and wouldn't stay with the group.  

"It was like trying to heard cats." -she said.

Then later we were walking out and I saw the French girl playing with several street dogs covered with mange and who knows what.  They were licking her face and she was kissing their mouths.  Rachel identified her as the girl in the trash.  By that time, I wasn't really surprised.

The Social Networker

One morning while I sat soaking my feet in the hallway of the paragon I  brought my iPad out with me to watch a movie while I put my make-up on.  I was minding my own business and had my headphones in so that not everyone had to listen to my movie when a woman approached me and started talking.  We will call her Lucy.  Realizing that Lucy was asking me a question I pulled my headphones out and apologized saying that I did not hear her.  She proceeded to ask me the usual questions I get about my iPad and wanted to know if I had internet.  The exchange was cordial enough but then drew on and I needed to get back to the task at hand so that I could go about my day.  The conversation while pleasant lasted about fifteen minutes longer that I would have preferred.  When the conversation finally did finish we had discussed everything from real estate in Singapore to whether it is safe for a lone woman to travel in the States.  While I could not have cared less about the former topic that latter made me chuckle since she was traveling alone in India.  

I ran into Lucy again by the bathroom that night and knew almost immediately that I was in for another long haul.  This time she wanted to know if I knew Chris.  I told her that I had not had the pleasure yet of meeting him.  She then launched into how great of a guy he was and he showed her the juice place.  I told her I didn't know the juice place.  She said that she was sure Chris would be more than happy to show me where it was.  Also that he was a very trust worthy person, that he would never take advantage of a young lady such as myself.  This was actually a little alarming.  I generally don't assume that people are going to take advantage of me, but why would you say that?  I bid her goodnight and returned hastily to my room.  

Then next day I saw her again and she asked me if I knew John.  I did not.  She then proceeded to tell me much more about John that I'm sure he was comfortable with the general public knowing.  He was very ill and he was having problems with his insurance and his visa was also up.  She was going to try to find out whether his government would pay his hospital bill.  This all seemed very intrusive to me.  She then wanted to know if I would go with her to the German embassy to see what we could do.  I had never met this man, and I told her I didn't feel comfortable doing that.  Also, I had to go to work.  She sighed a little disappointed and then asked me if I would like to go visit him.  I again told her that I had never met John and that if he really was as sick as she was saying then I certainly didn't feel comfortable making any introductions while he was in that grave condition.  She looked a little put out, but I was not going to intrude on this man's privacy, it felt very inappropriate. 

I was now was attempting to spend as little time in the hallway as possible.  But I ran into Lucy a several times over the next few days anyway.  With every encounter there seemed to be introductions with several other people with a pleasant but glazed look in their eyes.  Poor Lucy, she really had very good intentions but failed to understand that not everyone feels the need to get to know everyone.  This is a hostel, not summer camp.  I simply don't need to be set up on play dates with people.  Not to mention it can be a bit exasperating when you go on your play date only to realize that the other person doesn't speak English at all.  

One the third evening of her stay, I was once again in the hallway soaking my feet, listening to music and working on my iPad.  I wasn't there for too long when my new favorite interloper came up to me to ask about my day.  Her questions didn't last long before she launched into some life lessons.  She told me that she was very concerned for me and that I needed to get out, meet people and make friends.  I should not spend so much time on my computer because relationships are wonderful.  She told me that I need to find a man to spend time with (not necessarily in a physical way) because men are wonderful.  She told me I have potential and that when you kiss a man, he grows.  Not physically, although sometimes he will *wink* and that can be really nice.  Physical relationship don't just benefit a man, a woman needs to be touched sometimes too and that is nothing to be ashamed of.  But men can be shy and sometimes you need to be pushy, cunning and forward with them.  That is in fact how she got her husband.  Well, actually her ex husband.  He loved someone else, but she hung around till he chose her.  And while he does not love her anymore she still loves him.  So I should get out there, and eat healthy food and go for a walk after dinner, because that will help with the excess fat.  

I don't know how I managed to not laugh.  Perhaps it was the fact that I was completely dumbfounded and incredulous that I was receiving a "birds and the bees" talk nearly twenty years too late from a complete stranger.  And let us not forget, more weight loss tips.  But I do know that I deserve quite the pat on the back for my censure, for I only reacted with looks of mild interest and comprehension.  At least one of us knew how to hold our tongue.  Brava!

The Healer

The first time I saw this next man I had to suppress a chuckle.  He was dressed in a button up shirt and cargo shorts with hiking boots.  He donned a backpack with many accessories on in including sunscreen, a water canteen, a handkerchief and hand sanitizer all on the outside.  He was very excited, very prepared, very short, very round and very Asian.  I was looking at a grown up version of Russell from the movie Up.  

But while he physically resembled the lovable wilderness explorer in looks and exuberance the resemblance stopped there.  He was at the mother house but one day before he started running around after breakfast had ended announcing the house that he was going to and trying to round up others who were heading there as well.  He also starting running into the different rooms at the paragon in the mornings announcing that the group for the mother house was leaving.  What group?  We are all adults and once again this is not summer camp!  I am a grown and very capable woman.  I do not need to hold hands in a group on my way to mother house,  I do not need a tour guide who has been here about two seconds and I most certainly do not need a human alarm clock bursting into my room while I'm getting dressed in the morning.  

On his fourth morning I was standing at the sinks brushing my teeth when he came over and struck up a conversation with my roommates and me.  We all stood there wishing he would go away as he prattled on when things took a left turn into crazy town.  He went on about he was a massage therapist and that he had cured ten of the paralyzed people at kalighat (the home for the dying) in his three days there.  He was hoping to have cured them all by the end of the week when he left.  He has magic hands you know.

He turned and walked away and I turned and looked at Rachel laughing and sputtering through my toothpaste.  She looked at me and rolled her eyes, "that is exactly the kind of guy I don't like.  He was going on and on yesterday about how his magic hands make girls boobs grow." 

The Lover & The Dancer

By this time I am sure that you have realized that the hallway at the paragon is a hotbed for interactions with people who are chock-full-o-nuts.  Apparently, I am not as smart as you.  Or perhaps a better assessment of the situation was that all of the batty folk that I had run into were over all pretty harmless.  However, this last interaction was to be the end of my hallway adventures.   

I sat washing my feet, yet again when a young French man came and sat down at the table I was at and began talking at me.  I once again removed my headphones and indulged yet another human being who does not understand the headphone code.  

The headphone code: If you see someone who has headphones in it means that they are not looking for a conversation.  They are either previously engaged with the material on their device or looking to just avoid chatting.  It is a polite way of rebuffing people who might be looking for a conversation or to sell you something.  Headphones are essentially the same as having a book, magazine or work papers.   If you have a question, ask it quickly, but then let them get back to what they were previously doing or listening to.  You might be wondering "yes, but what if this person does in fact wish to carry on a polite conversation with me?"   There is a simple way of telling whether they want to or not.  If the person in question stops what they are doing (by either pausing their music, placing their bookmark in and closing their book or putting their magazine or work away) and proceeds to actually engage in the talk, then they are up for it.  Feel free then to chat away.  If the person leaves one earbud or headphone in/over the ear the the answer is no.

This man unlike any of the other eccentric people that I had run into however was drunk.  This became very obvious very quickly.  Between repeated offers for some of his whisky he went on and on about traveling and how much he loved it.  He told me how he was from Paris and that he was a waiter there but here he was a king.  He worked as long as it took him to save money to travel.  He told me that I was a very nice and pretty girl (oh boy) and that I seemed very "simpatique".  He repeatedly apologized for his babbling and asked if i had any cigarettes.  I told him that I do not smoke.  

After several minutes of this nonsense his friend came out to join him.  He talked at me while his friend laughed at him and spoke to him in French.  I am not certain what was said, but I imagine that he was telling him to shut up, that I was just being polite and that he was embarrassing himself.  He asked me if I like gay people, and I said that I did not base my friendships on such trivial things as religion, race or sexual preference.  At this his friend laughed and said that he liked me. 

 At one  point he asked me if I had ever been to Nepal.  I told him not on this trip, but maybe on the next. 

"The heroine there is beautiful."

"Oh ...Well, la-di-dah." 

His friend again laughed, launched into a rant in French and then after a moment of observing his stupefied comrade danced over to me and sang very close to my ear in a very deep and husky voice "silence ... is sexy ... silence ... is sexy" while brushing his fingers from one shoulder to the other on my back.  He then sauntered back to his seat and smiled at me, then looked at his friend.  

"Well, my feet are clean," I said standing " and that just got weird so goodnight."

I gathered up my things and went into my room.  By this time Rachel was asleep but Cynthia was still awake.  I could hardly contain myself, and I had to since both guys were still camped out on the stoop of our dorm.  I immediately began telling Cynthia the story of what just happened and as I was just about done the door opened and the singer popped his head in and asked us if we had a lighter.  We both said no when he looked at one of our random roommates that was sleeping next to the door.  He made a noise and facial expression that suggested that he thought he was attractive and then proceeded to make faces and kissing noises.  I grabbed one of my shirts to cover my face so that I would not laugh out loud, wake the poor boy up and make him aware of what was happening around him.  The man then started to dance around him and mime doing rather questionable things to the sleeping boy.  Cynthia meanwhile had buried her head under her pillow like an ostrich where as I was now nearly eating my shirt to staunch the shock and laughter.  After a few more choice dance moves the man did a turn, then bowed and exited.

"What-"

"Don't" Cynthia strained from underneath her pillow "talk ... to me right now. No ... Just don't."

Holi! The festival of colors.

There is a Hindu holiday called Holi also known as the festival of colors.  It is celebrated in early March in India, Bangladesh, Pakistan and Nepal.  Holi is a holiday that celebrates the coming of spring.  People fill the streets wearing white and throw brightly colored paint at each other, singing songs and dancing through the streets.  The festival is actually only one day but like Christmas it is too much fun for only twenty four hours.  So, some people take to the streets the day before with their paint. But mostly the night before there are bonfires in the street with lots of singing and dancing.  It is a rather rambunctious celebration in the middle of a very restrained society.  So people jump at the opportunity to let their hair down, so to speak.  In the guide book my mother gave to me for Christmas it specifically states that Holi is "not for the faint of heart".  

The night before Rachel and I headed to New Market with the intention of buying white shirts.  We walked by the many street venders only to disappointed by their lack of white clothing and eventually ended up at a store similar to a Kmart.  The men's section seemed to be the most promising and so we proceeded to paw through the racks.  There is a very strange common occurrence among the Indian youth.  There are hordes of young (and sometimes not so young) men sporting shirts with famous western brands that are just slightly misspelled.  Or perhaps they just wear shirts that sport a hodge-podge images, logos and phrases associated with a specific country.  Perhaps a shirt with the union jack, polo players, the tower of London and then the phrase like "no rulz generation" or "born to worship".  Then of course there are shirts that don't actually say anything but are just a bizarre cartoon with a jumble of letters.  So, Rachel and I had a bit of work cut out for us.  These were going to be our Holi shirts, they had to be perfect.  After finding a few gems, including one that claimed that the wearer was "sofa king cool" Rachel settled on a shirt that said vintage with some scribbles and a victrola and I chose a shirt that said Aerosmit.  That's right, not Aerosmith but Aerosmit.  So now with our proper attire we were ready to party!

Cynthia, Rachel and I had decided that we would head out to breakfast the next morning at 9:00, but as I was waking up around 8:00 I was greeted by Rachel who was already splattered with color saying that we should get going, because there was so much fun to be had. Cynthia and I dressed quickly and we nervously headed out into the unknown.  

I was ecstatic to experience Holi, but much like when you are about to  get on a giant roller coaster or tube slide, nerves fill your body at the last minute and suddenly you hesitate.  I knew that I was going to be covered in paint by the end of the day but at the last moment I was seriously questioning my choice to actually wear white.  My two companions had opted for colors that seemed to present them as less of an obvious target where I felt like I was wearing a sign that said "come and get me".  

Holi played a huge part in one of the Bollywood movies I had seen.  The streets were filled with energetic adults and children alike screaming and celebrating.  I seemed to be filled with that dilemma of wanting to play but wary of the consequences, much like a water balloon fight.  But as we emerged onto the street I caught my first glimpse of the celebration. There was singing while people danced around smearing the paint all over each other and one particular shop owner sprayed people down with a hose.  We danced our way through crowd and came out mostly clean and sought out breakfast.  

We sat down at an outdoor cafe and marveled as customers breezed in and out and resembled not people but swamp zombies.  I don't think I have rushed through a breakfast that quickly since arriving here.  We walked through the streets listening for the sound of drums to find where the people were and immediately joined in the fun.  We were dancing an getting our face grabbed by many people we had never laid eyes on before, who each added another stroke to an ever evolving piece of art where our faces and bodies served as the canvas.  There was only one problem, none of us had thought to purchase paint.  We all recognized the blunder in our preparations and decided that it needed to be remedied immediately.  

Taking off in the other direction we ran towards the vendor where a spanish girl said we could purchase supplies.  And after begrudgingly dropping a good deal of rupees we were ready to go.  Cynthia had picked a rich deep purple where I chose bright sunshine yellow and Rachel opted for jungle green.  We left the stand and began to hunt for action.  

We scampered about town passing by the many shops that were understandably closed. This was by far one of the strangest mornings in Kolkata.  Except for where the party was happening, which was transient, the city was a ghost town.  We moved around in search people to play with.  Along the way we came across many street children who we generously shared our powder paint with and shenanigans ensued.  They screamed with delight, attacked and then retreated.  I love playing these types of games with children.   The stakes are always so high.  This is real life and it's life or death.  You can see it in their eyes even if you can't understand their language.  

Several times in the middle of our game of paint war reporters and photographers appeared it of nowhere and snapped photos and interviewers asked questions.  This was rather comical since it happen several times and they were different people each time.  We obliged their interviews and got our pictures taken with the locals with no mention of what publication or station they were from.  I guess that is an American thing.  

At one point when we had run out of ammunition we returned to the vendor to get more.  This time we bought regular powder and some to mix into water.  I wanted to be heavily armed this time.  After we refreshed our supplies our attention was diverted by a group of kids playing by a fountain.  We curiously wandered over eager to play and they rushed over to share their exuberance with the white girls.  We were spray and pelted with water and paint and somehow Cynthia, despite my warnings, ended up in the fountain.  The kids were screaming with mirth and delight to see this American girl floundering around this fountain in an outdoor shopping complex in a full length skirt.  It was quite a sight. When she emerged we decided to leave this unruly group.  As we turned to leave we became aware of the still growing audience that we, or rather Cynthia had attracted.

Eventually we wound our way back to Sudder street where we rejoined the main celebration.  I must say that it was quite a sight to behold.  You could easily attack someone with your paint and then realize after that it was someone that you work with.  I saw a Danish guy I volunteered with who had only recently arrived, was nearly paint free but sporting the tattered remains of what I only can imagine was his shirt.  At one point I turned around to see a giant pink monster and then recognized Sam's voice.  I danced through the crowd spraying people and children who appeared to be too clean with my purple water paint and magenta powder.  The air was filled with bright colors.  At times I felt as if I were in a psychedelic dream.   

After a while the party began to dissipate.   We sat down took look at the pictures we had taken  when a police officer showed up and told up that we needed to go back to our hostel.  We told him that we didn't have anymore paint and that we were being peaceful and minding our own business.  This only seemed to aggravate him and he became rather hostile.  I checked my phone and it said that it was 12:30 PM.  That's right, 12:30 in the afternoon.  Growing impatient with his attitude, I asked him why we had to leave when we weren't being a nuisance.  This was not and endearing statement and we were give the boot with no explanation.  I went, knowing that I would really regret my mouth if I managed to get arrested, but it was with a very sour attitude.  

So, that was it.  Three and a half hours and some of the best memories I have of being here.  Although, I will say that after the process of getting clean was extensive and I had a slightly more pinkish tint to my skin than was normal.  But I'd rather that then the people who looked like they were part smurf for the next few days. 

 Holi in short, is the best.   

I Don't Want to Hold Your Hand

A short list of things I simply don't get about India 

-How an entire country is conservative enough to be shocked by a kiss in a movie, a bare shoulder or the idea of seeing your spouse naked, but public defecation and bathing in the street are perfectly acceptable.  Also, you took the time to build public urinals on the street but then failed to connect them to the sewer system, the result being urine filled gutters.  Is this because of monsoon season, laziness, or is this some bizarre marketing campaign to get me to associate India with the smell of pee. 

-At McDonald's there can be a person designated to getting every part of your meal and there are virtually no customers and yet is still takes longer than any McDonald's I have ever been to anywhere else.  Also, why does it cost fifteen rupees for a side of BBQ sauce?

-The entire country's inability to think outside of the box.  I was at subway and I wanted the baked lays and when I asked the man behind the counter he informed me that it was "not possible" I looked over at the nine bags of baked lays on the wall and turned back perplexed.  I assured him that I was perfectly fine if it was a little more for the baked variety.  I received the same reply, "not possible madam."

-Why anyone would hold the hand of someone they were not dating?  You will never see a married couple display any affection towards one another. However what you will see is grown men walking down the street draped over eachother, holding hands, holding pinkies or eachother's inner thigh when sitting on the subway.  If they were gay, I would get it, but they are not.  I assure you I do not go around holding even my dearest friend's inner thigh. 

-Sometimes when I walk down the street there is an outrageously strong odor  that resembles parmesan cheese.  There is no cheese available in this country that even resembles parmesan. And yet this olfactory sensation is so strong it can make your eyes water.  I wish to always remain oblivious to what creates this smell.