the bridge , really big

taking metro to blessed teresa's dying house.

so shabby, the metro station , with letters falling awry, like a image in hollywood movie typifying a failure country in latin america.

no commercial on the walls in the metro

single line, without any broadcasting.

snapped this photo before a boy stopt me. he said it was forbidden to take photos.

blessed teresa's dying house. less than 10 of indian old and disable guys inside, with dozens of "sympathetic" and "philanthropic" WHITEs , "volunteers".

i think i would rather call these whites : hypocritic, shallow, vain. they came here to show their charity on their CV rather than really help anyone. the indians here were not really dying, FAR FROM THAT.

i was narrowly watched and suspected by the indian managers. i am not a white. they did not believe i would donate or help as a volunteer. they even ordered the gateman to shut the door before i left.

they thought i was a THIEF.

this was blessed teresa's legacy ?!

so fvcked up ! racism at highest form i ever felt in india.

outside the dying house, a vibrant market. some fruit i never saw

5 naira for one piece. but no flavor at all .

the flesh

a nearby hindu temple, emulating with blessed teresa's dying house for apostles.

a sort of non-descript animosity vibe between hindu and catholic

markets selling things for temple goers

a sudden disturbing stomach summoned me back to the hotel.

luckily metro was at hand.but very conjested.

the sign in the metro . its windows were OPEN. no AC ! doors closed.

my lunch, some jumble things.

fried wings, a tart taste. maybe put in the refrigerator overnight.

pancake. it was ok. wrapped by a newspaper.

chocalate ball and a mini pizza. the guy who sold it collected my money and put the things in a bag, but the ball rolled out onto the desk ! he stooped and put it back to my bag , with his bare hands

in the afternoon roaming the city again.


found a park and entered

encountered some friendly people

out of the park, some street view. bad road.

tram. looked dangerous to pedestrians.

bus, looked like it was made in wood and it would fall apart next second. very seedy.

the tricky thing. i have nearly been tripped by it. the pole fell down before people all came over, and thus the people amassed there, some stamped others' feet, some lost a wallet. all chaotic . and fracas.

early morning , the last day ( day 30 )of my staying in india. packed my bag. home was my next stop. at least an escape from the stifling heat from india.

day 30 , on my way to the airport.

shop fellows still sleeping in the open air. i would sleep like him if i had no valuable stuff with me. it was much cooler out.

leaving kolkata,

taking a non-AC taxi to airport. almost there

this yellow taxi reminds me of the colonial era image of india. looks they dont change at all.

outside of the airport

inside of the airport. the hieroglyphics on the ceiling is a feature of this port

pizza in the airport. 700naira. at least clean .

other snacks

monsoon came puntually on the first day of june. it last for 25 days.

very low efficient ticket desk. even indian themselves were impatient. 1 hour only 6 people checked in