This post is a long time coming. First of all, the computer I’m on doesn’t want to let me upload pictures, so it took me a while to find a workaround. Second, I seem to have come down with Salmonella in Bangladesh, so give me a break!

On Friday we woke up early to get to the bus station. I knew it was going to be a long trip, so I just prepared myself.
After about 3 hours, we came to a river crossing. Since there’s no bridge, we spent about half an hour in line to get a ferry.

That served as a bathroom break, so I walked around the ferry. It was crazy to see people selling all kinds of things, from newspapers to bananas to household items, right on the ferry, just like any street market.

At about 3pm, we arrived somewhere and a whole lot of people started getting off the bus. It wasn’t like a border post or anything, it was just some city that looked like all the other Bangladeshi cities I’d been to. Eventually though, I was the only one on the bus. So I figured it was time to get off. I tried asking whether we had arrived in Benapole, but I was thoroughly confused. Eventually I figured out that, yes, this was the end of the line on the Bangladeshi side. Not having any clue what was going on, and unable to find anyone that spoke English, I figured I’d just wait around and someone would tell me where to go or what to do.
I saw our baggage being loaded onto sophisticated baggage carts:

I was eventually directed to get into a microbus that took us down the road a little ways and to another bus office. I got out, sat down, once again figuring that someone would tell me what to do. After a little while, someone came over and directed me to an office across the street. I went to one building to pay the exit tax, then went to another to drop off my passport and embarkation slip, then was told to go to another to wait. They came back with my passport, I exchanged my remaining Taka to Rupees (no clue what kind of an exchange rate I got there) then walked across the border. The Indian official seemed to take an awful long time inspecting not only my Indian visa, but my Bangladeshi one, and my other entrance/exit stamps. Not sure what he was looking for, but eventually he decided it was good enough.

On the Indian side, I had to visit another several offices to clear immigration and customs. The customs officer asked me what was in my bag. I told him it was my suit and shirts, and that was good enough for him.

The border:

Then I went to yet another bus office to wait. I had to pay another 120 Rupees. It turns out that the fare I paid only got me as far as the border. To get to Kolkata, I’d have to pay the Indian company. No big deal, but it would have been nice to know. What if I didn’t have any cash on me? ATMs certainly weren’t available. Eventually we got on the bus and were on our way to Kolkata.

Even though I had a map, and thought I had a pretty good idea of where I was and where the hostel I was looking for was, I walked in circles for a long time. One of the first differences I noticed was the abundance of touts following me around telling me where I could find a good hotel. I eventually found Hotel Maria, even though it wasn’t really located on the street it was supposed to be on. I managed to get “the last room” (I found out that there were dorm beds available, which I should have chosen, but oh well.) My single room, up on the roof, wasn’t much, but at least it was a bed. And it was a good thing I had my travel sheet.

There was a table and chairs up on the rooftop, and when I arrived it was filled with european backpackers from every imaginable country. It was really fascinating talking to them and hearing where they had come from and where they were headed.

I was sort of worried about my ability to wake up in the morning to catch my early flight to Delhi, since the only alarm I had was the one on my 1980s Casio watch I bought in New Market in Dhaka. I woke up just fine, and got to brush my teeth on the rooftop with a great view of Kolkata. One of the backpackers said it was his favorite Indian city, so I really wish I’d gotten to spend more time there.

I flew into Delhi with Jet Airways, a new low-cost provider that even has service to the U.S. It was a great airline that I’d eagerly recommend. From the airport, I grabbed a pre-paid taxi to the Railroad station, which was adjacent to the hotel I was looking for.

I walked down a crowded market street (the Main Bazaar) to the hotel. Most of the stuff for sale seemed to be targeted towards tourists, but I saw mainly Indians and very few foreigners. I eventually found Hotel Rak International. A very clean place with a friendly staff. They showed me a room, more expensive than Kolkata, but this one did have a bathroom. I dropped off my stuff and headed into town. I went back to the rail station to book my ticket to Agra for the next day. I got the last seats in either direction on the train I wanted, so that was pretty lucky.

I kept walking through the streets of Old Delhi and all of a sudden the narrow, winding streets just ended at the national Mosque.

Entering the Mosque was truly amazing. All of the din, dust, and bustle was just stopped at the gates. Inside was calm and quiet.

I sat for a while and just absorbed the scene. Afterwards, I walked onward to the Red Fort.

The grounds inside the fort were truly spectacular. Well-kept and well-preserved, I can’t even imagine how it looked in its glory days.

After the fort I continued my walk around the city. I was continually amazed by how the city has grown up around the old structures and monuments.

An old city gate, preserved right in the middle of the activity of the modern city:

The old city wall, built by the British:

And another old gate:

And since I know you’re all dying to see pictures of the Taj, here’s a little preview: