Crashlanded in Kolcata January 10 2008

Oh my God. It's way worse than Delhi. Delhi was modern; this city is crumbling in colonial squalor, although I have heard the metro is squeaky clean but that is hard to believe here on squalid lane. On the other hand it is vibrantly astounding; just watching the women stroll in their saris on the dusty streets decked out in blow-your-brain cells reds and eye-popping pinks is a picnic in itself.

But there is horrifying poverty everywhere while we foreigners gawk. I can't wait for my ten-day Vipassana meditation time in Bodh Gaya. Just me and God and a whole lotta sitting. Take me Buddha I've had enough of the big city. Over it. Loud, heinous, poor, dirty, polluted grimy air. Next. Oh and squeeze every last rupee out of your pockets constantly.

I leave tomorrow for Bodh Gaya in Bihar; the rock-bottom poorest part of India, to the exact place on earth where Buddha was enlightened. I need some light all right. My room here in Kolcata is like a horror movie set. I went cheap in a tourist guesthouse that was sub-par for my first night in India but I will light some incense, say some prayers, disperse the ghosts, good night sleep tight - hope there are no bed bugs. I think I'm the only tenant, no wait I met one other inmate after I moved my backpack in. Tomorrow I will trot over to the botanical gardens or Mother Theresa's home for the dying next to the Kali Temple. I will decide what to do when I wake up in my horror movie. I halfway blocked it out how terrifyingly arrogant the men are here. They assume the superior I'm better than you posture when they aren't. It ain't gonna work on me, Bub. Talk to the hand. You are at Feisty Central my friend and I use the term loosely.

Right now I hear a white man chewing out his girlfriend since he's been looking for her for two hours. Calm down, she can be free and eat out alone some time. Cut the umbilical cord. Snip-snap. There are lots of solo female warriors in these parts. I've met several all ready. I had a nice time on the train in Thailand with Boogie; a gal from Brooklyn who is a lighting technician for the film industry. She invited me to stay with her in New York when I visit. We had a spirited conversation about lovers - it dissolved my discouragement after that bleak film, "Elizabeth." I met her in this tiny place Aurrayata, a temple town. But I got tired of temples and the crucifying heat so I bought a silk purse for$4 which took about an hour to choose from the many electrifying hand-made samples on display. Then I nearly fainted from heat exposure trying to find my way back to return my rented bike and catch my train not knowing where the heck I was. I delivered myself to the doorstep of a salon where I figured I should be relaxing and not out on this hellishly hot street sweating and they invited me into the air-conditioning and gave me ice cold bottled water - two angels who spoke a tiny bit of English and then called the owner of the bike shop to come and collect me. This was all communicated in Thai words and I just sat there in my barcalounger smiling and trying to be charming without knowing the language. I was ready to move in with these two lovely women. But I must get to the country, I'm tired of filthy air. And the stereophonic coughing from everyone makes me cringe. It sounds like internal organs are being coughed up as the dust gets into your lungs like ravenous amoeba. And the poverty. This time I feel almost guilty. We have so much and what do we do - we whine constantly.Wanting more, improved, upgraded computers, cars, clothes and casual relationships. It's pitiful.