Kolkata is a weird one. It's sort of like a Eurpoean city but one that's been dusted with Indian craziness: trees with their roots out and people sleeping in bags and dead dogs and chickens on a lead and Christmas decorations everywhere. I'm not sure that I wholly understood it. 
The area around Kalighat was the most understandable. That seemed like proper India with its noise and its colour and its hibiscuseseseses (hibisci?) all in tribute to a three eyed goddess with a severed head. I could understand that.
I had only just made it to the Bengali mask room in Indian Museum - which appeared to be the best room in there - when the whistle-blowing Gestapo came and kettled us out of the museum. Most abrupt interruption to peaceful contemplation in a place of learning I can remember.
So yeah. Victoria Memorial. That bridge people rave about that is actuallu just a bridge. Heaps of Christmas decorations. A beggar with a monkey. Peter Cat. Austin Ambassadors. Lady boys. Bengali sweets. Mocambo. Loads of unnecessary noise. Kolkata - box ticked.
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