Where is Wiley E. Coyote

Noise.
Lots of noise.
We were awoken at 8 am with the one man show of mucus draining somewhere within the depths of our hotel.

Hoooooooowrggggggh- then spit- repeat 7980080808 times.
I guess I should have taken this an omen of things to come. As I wrote, the city is everything you have heard about Kolkata. There is no escape, no respite, no chance to sequester any serenity; the beeps of the cars will no doubt penetrate even the thickest of steel walls. People teem everywhere on the streets: selling goods, repairing roads and sidewalks, hawking bits and bobs. The streets are a colorful palette of dirt. It meshes within your toes, and cakes your exposed skin. The roads, some no more than 6 meters wide, are filled with every type of transportation- along with a multitude of people crossing the street. There are no rules and Sam and I believed that Cambodia would be a good precursor to coming here- crossing the street in Cambodia is like what happened in land of the dead compared to here. You are constantly tripping over holes, uneven bricks in the sidewalk, people strewn on the streets calling you with Hello or pulling at your shirt for money. I would pay a king's ransom for space and tranquility. That is the most unique aspect to being here: there is no escape from the city. Most cities Sam and I have traveled to have some sort of oasis to get away when things get too hectic. Here, they throw you into the pot and keep on stirring.
It makes you more aware of your faculties, it makes you more aware of your senses. Sam and I went to the downtown bazaar away from the usual beaten path. As we slithered through the small alley ways- a lot of times seeking refuge in some shops from a car trying to pass through an area 4 times too small for it- we were hit with the technicolor shops that would make Joseph feel a little sheepish. Sam and I have been through markets before in various places, but this was indescribable. The place formed a symbiosis with its vendors, and other people. It pulsated with life. Men powered through seemingly tiny gaps, carrying hug loads of materials atop their head. No faces showed the strain, just the desire to get to point B.
The city is rundown, yet with the old style yellow cabs rushing through the streets and colonial buildings interspersed between rubble and dilapidation, it has a sense of antiquity that gives it some charm- not unlike a bowling shoe
We have been lucky enough to meet some locals who have shared their thoughts on Kolkata. One man, the phone attendant, a man who needed absolute perfection from his staff and if perfection was not attained, staff members ducked from the incoming phone box sent at their head. He was gruff, but honest; cynical, but helpful. He told us places to go , but strongly warned of being fleeced.
Our waiter later that day also echoed these sentiments. He told us of places to go and was more than eager to engage into a conversation with Sam and I. A portly young man, he took it upon himself to help us acclimatize better at lunch by placing his mobile on the table and allowing The Eagles "Hotel California" complete the bizarre ambiance.
We are leaving today for Varanasi on our first train experience and we both are excited. Kolkata has been a great starting point, but the decibel level here is almost unbearable- mixed with the pollution, it is an all out assault on your well being.
As I mentioned before, dead time has reared its ugly head again, this time with more ferocity and avengeance. As we were in the phone shop, what should have taken 20 minutes drew out to two hours. It seems work gets completed like a crab moves across sand- sideways for a long time, but in the end, I guess the crab goes straight. It is frustrating as you sit down and you aren't noticed until 20 minutes later even though you are the only customer. Even better when engaged, more people come in and your attendant's attention is taken to the intruder. It is a process, to which my only example is how you feel when you deal with an airline attendant at the departure check-in. They do their business, hit buttons, tell you remotely what's going on, but most of the time you are left in the lurch for a solid chuc of time.
We are happy to be here, but we believe that we still have not fully come to grips here. I believe that India is too farcical, almost a swirl of sensations and emotions. I think getting out will do the trick. Hopefully, the train is less liberal with its whistle as we chug towards Varanasi