Today was a walking morning, and here is my man riding to sell his chickens, all dangling and wriggling from his bicycle handlebars and rear fender - well travelled, those birds.
Here is the deliver system for LONG bamboo poles. They are balanced lengthwise on a platform attached to the back of a bicycle. I'm glad we have trucks for this sort of delivery but think it would be a hell of a lot better for the environment and the American girth if we used bikes!
I haven't yet found an excellent example of the way trucks are decorated here, often with eyes painted on the windscreens and mottos along the sides, but this one was a start. It says "Goods Carriage," which I thought was a useful tag...
I took the bus to get to the Metro in New Garia, but I seem to have taken the wrong bus and ended up in Old Garia, where there is an enormous bazaar down these steps. I was trying to keep my bearings and so didn't go down into the maze of the bazaar but did take the next photo of an array of veggies, many of which I cannot name.
I decided to take advantage of a new environment and loved the sarees hanging out to dry; I realize that I spelled the word as "sari" before. Forgive my mistake!
Here is a little stand that is selling sugar cane juice, which was being scarfed down lickety split by the surrounding folks; I had had it before in Hanoi and really didn't find it that refreshing so I didn't stop to sip this time.
I can only wonder about this South Kolkata Tea Club which doesn't seem to be open on Sunday mornings.
This photo troubles me because it is a bucket of charcoal outside the locked door. Another sign of bad air. I wish I'd been able to photograph the beautifully lined up cow pies that are sold for fuel; honesty, they look like rope delicately twined together in a large coil, especially prevelant in Agra.
I cannot resist these doors; they just look like abstract art to me, blocks of colors and textures, and this one is exquisite. Would that I could do something comparable with my own painting.
As I was trying to find the right bus back here, I came upon this little house which looks as though it may be the place for the communist meetings, hammer and sickles aflutter.
I didn't know if Cakes were not allowed to park here, or if Cakes were the reason for not parking here; either way, it's a particularly informative signage.
It turned out that the Metro doesn't actually run until after 2:00 P.M. on Sundays (you'd think somebody would have told me), and they will be mobbed this after noon because of a big cricket match, so instead I bought a big fat fish - I think something like sandshark and made a big pot of curried fish that was a HIT here! They use water for the sauce, and that just wasn't cutting it for me, so after the turmeric, the cumin, the pepper and LOADS of salt, I added SWEETENED MANGO JUICE as a secret ingredient, and it was delicious! They think I'm a genious chef. Heehee.
Finally, the water man came, just when we were running out of water! He carried the full jug over his shoulder and climbs up to the fourth floor in his long skirt; he seemed pleased with his photo, posing proudly!
I've tried and tried to get to the Sundarbans, but they tell me here that $80 is too expensive for the trip, it's too hot and mosquito-ey, etc., so tomorrow I will hit the old Chinatown market at 8:00 a.m. and then go to Mother Teresa's House to see about volunteering for Tuesday with Utsa, Sundarbans be damned. I'll have to return with Lisa and plan it to the hilt!
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