I'm welsh, no Finnish, no Cornish!

Ok, I’ll admit it, I’m a tightwad. If I die with a coin in my hand you’d better hope it’s a fifty pee, at least you’ll get it out of my clasp with a wrench. The other day I beat a beggar to a one rupee coin lying on the pavement that someone had dropped. It almost landed on my head I was down that quickly to pick it up. In comparison to me, Ebeneezer Scrooge was Santa Claus and the tooth fairy rolled into one. BUT I hate shopping and the shopkeepers, stall holders and touts in Kolkata are masters at squeezing every last rupee from their prey… sorry, customers. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a challenge!

First off, I had no intention of going shopping. I was going to have a leisurely stroll down to the Victoria memorial, laze about a bit taking pictures, stroll back to the hotel, repack my bag for the homeward flight tomorrow and have an early night. I always start off with good intentions. I’ve been very good on this trip. I’ve carried all my photographic gear with me, along with my laptop. When I’ve not taken them out with me, I’ve locked them into my case, inside my locked hotel room. Until today that is. I was halfway down Park Street, sweltering in the morning sun and I had a thought. You know by now how my thoughts go.. Oh bugger, I’ve not locked my case and the room cleaners were on their way in. I had to traipse all the way back to the hotel just to put the lock onto my bag. I must have lost half a stone in weight I was sweating that much. Whether because of the heat or the thought of losing all that equipment, who can say?

Job sorted, I retraced my steps down to the Victoria Memorial. It was built to commemorate Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee in 1901. Unfortunately they didn’t complete it until twenty years after her death. They probably had Rochdale Council on the job. Saying that, it’s a fantastic place and fabulously photogenic. In 2007, I was fortunate to visit the Taj Mahal (no, not the curry house on Milkstone Road) and the Victoria Memorial has that same haunting aura about it. But by God, Kolkata is hot. I was melting in the heat. It was 35C when we landed yesterday and today it must have been the same, or perhaps hotter?

I had to get out of the direct sun and St. Paul’s cathedral provided the much needed shelter. Apparently, according to the Lonely Planet guide, it has a central cranellated tower. Fancy that! MS Word has no idea what that means and neither do I but it’s an impressive place anyway. The memorial plaques inside are all reminders of English gentlefolk that died keeping India, British. Forgive me; it’s brought a tear to my monocled eye.

Once back outside and in the sunshine, it was impossible to settle, it was that hot. So I returned back to the hotel for a much welcomed wash to cool down. Now the hotel is very nice, apart from it being in the middle of backpacker central. There are hosts of young people hanging about, doing nowt apart from trying to look like 60’s hippies and going redder than lobsters in the heat. To the shopkeepers, stallholder and touts, parting the kids from their cash is like taking candy from a baby. But now they have me to deal with.

It all starts innocently enough. Some character sidles alongside you, asks what country you’re from, what your name is, what line of business you are in and… “Would you like to have a look at my friend’s shop? Very good price too! No need to buy, just look” These touts receive commission for every tourist they fetch into their “friend’s” shop who buys something. The tout’s commission has to be made back, so the tourist pays that in inflated prices. I stuck it until the third chap approached me. Until then I’d been quite amenable, engaging them in conversation and then politely refusing the offer of a visit to his friend’s shop. Balls to this, I’d had enough.

“Hello, what country you from?”
“Finland!”
(Somewhat hesitatingly)”Oh, err, very nice… is that in England?”
“No, it’s near Russia and I’m going home now, bye!”

It worked! He buggered off and left me alone. Hey, this is a great game! Hope it works again. Sure enough, I didn’t have to wait long to find out….

“Hello, you looking for something?”
“No thanks, I’m fine”
“What country you from?”
“Wales, Land of my fathers don’t you know!”
(Totally bemused) “Oh, err and what is your name?”
“Dai, Dai Station!” (I could only remember him from Ivor the Engine) “and what’s your name boyo?”
“Errr, Rahil…. You want to see my friend’s shop?”
“No thank you, I’ve no money see, spent it all coming here!”
“Plastic?”
Bugger me, this fellah took some shaking off!

Eventually, I ended up coming from Cornwall and I was called Paul. Paul Perro.

But then came the time I wanted to buy an incense holder. I bought one the other day but true to form, it’s crap. I paid 75/- then and that was with Jyoti with me. I wonder if I can get it for that price on my own. My reputation must have gone before me. I spotted just what I wanted on this guy’s stall. Bent down, picked it up and asked,
“How much?”
“120/-“
“How much? I only paid 75/- the other day and I was ripped off then!”
“Ok, ok, take it, it’s yours, 75/-!“

Blimey, that was a bit easy! Kolkata shopkeepers, hold your heads in shame! In the words of Delia Smith “Where are ya? C’mon, let’s be ‘aving ya!”

Early start tomorrow morning. I have to be up by 4am. It’s now 4.30pm. I think I’ll have a couple of beers, a few free crisps and be back in my hotel room for 6pm. I want to be getting my head down for 9pm. Hey, I’ve just had a thought! I wonder if Kolkata barmen would like to haggle. “How much? I only paid 60/- the other day!” Hmmm, I’d better not, I don’t think I could keep a Welsh accent up for long after a bottle of beer. I always end up sounding Pakistani. Now that really would confuse them!