Kolkata

I grabbed my backpack and quickly made it through customs. Fortunately, there was a driver from the organization I would be working with waiting for me when I exited the airport. He led me out into the airport parking lot where we both got into a taxi. Ah, Kolkata. The pollution was thick and the air was hot. Most people in the U.S. know this Indian city by it's colonial name of Calcutta. After independence from the British, the name was changed to Kolkata, which more accurately reflects the name of one of the tribal villages that was in the area. Pretty much all of the signs in the city now say, "Kolkata" as do the post offices. Which is interesting, because I tried to have something mailed to me here in India and the U.S. Postal Service does not recognize Kolkata as a name, they only go by the Calcutta version.
After about 5 minutes of driving, my guy started yelling at the taxi driver and pointing at the meter. The taxi driver began yelling back and eventually we were pulled over on the roadside having a loud exchange in Bengali, the language of this part of India. All of this, of course, meant nothing to me since I don't speak Bengali. I did, however, think it might be a good idea to pull my bag out of the taxi in case the driver got pissed off enough to take off. And that's what he did. We then jumped into a second taxi and off we went.
My guy and the new taxi driver seemed to get along much better than the first guy. At one point my guy offered up a green and brown, chopped leafy substance to the driver, who took it and put it between his cheek and gum. It looked like reefer to me, but I would later find out it was "paan", an herbal type thing that people here use just like chewing tobacco.
On the drive from the airport, there were oxen, cattle, goats and chickens all mixed in with city buildings and shacks. Occasionally there was a stagnant pond full of lily pads that people were bathing in. There were also people bathing in the street, using public water troughs. Men and women, soaped up right there on the sidewalk. All this wedged between high rise buildings and bamboo huts.
The traffic was crazy. Trucks, motorcycles, old straining taxis and bicycle rickshaws all fighting for room on the road with no apparent rules whatsoever. It was amazing that I didn't see any accidents. Also, there was a non-stop din of car horns, constantly blaring away.
I couldn't help but notice how polluted Kolkata was, right from the start. There was garbage everywhere. And everywhere there was garbage, there was someone picking through the garbage looking for whatever they needed: food, materials, etc. Once in a while I would catch a glimpse of tropical vegetation such as palm trees, though those were few and far between. The concrete sidewalks were teeming with people.
Finally, we arrived at the guest house I would be staying at. It wasn't bad at all. I was just happy that I had my own room and a cold shower. I was told by the people at the front desk that there was a British guy staying in the room next to me. As it would turn out, Adrian was working with the same organization I was, but tomorrow, my first day, would be his last day. I met with him that evening and realized I had a ton of info I needed to get from him before he left. That night there would be a blackout. But no reason to panic, I would soon realize that these power outages were a daily occurrence. I made the best out of it and bought some candles.