I have always loved the ocean, which I am sure I have mentioned before. My mother retired to Hilton Head Island many years ago, within easy walking distance of one of the white, sandy expanses of beach on Hilton Head Island, SC. She’s 92 and hasn’t walked there since her knees gave out. I try to make it for sunrise but usually end up sleeping too late.
When I visited this time, I walked down on a cool April afternoon. A few brave souls were in the water, but mostly there was just a scattering of people. The sun was bright but the wind did not carry any warmth. I was inspired to write a poem, while huddled against a wooden box that holds beach rental items, with fine white sand sifting into my sandals. Here goes:
Gray brown waves/Riled by breeze/Sizzling the sand
Wayfarers in neon green, purple, blue/Constricting nature into backdrop
Weathered wooden chairs/With no warmth/Awaiting summer occupants
The last day of our grand adventure in West Bengal had come, and after some administrative business in the Contact Base offices, we set off by car to the teaming commercial center of the Bara Bazar to find a historic Armenian church. The driver got us to the approximate location of Armenian Street, after the first set of location negotiations among people on the street. He let us out to fine-tune the directions on foot.
The next set of location negotiations took us along the busy main drag, lined with merchandise (ranging from cosmetics to underwear to toys to plastic containers of all sizes and shapes) from the sides of cars and the backs of trucks. The more well established sellers lined the narrow streets which we hurried down in search of Armenian Street, which seemed to be at the center of a maze of alleyways. The variety of colors, sounds, smells and the level of activity was exhilarating, but we did not pause for purchasing since we were on a mission.
Honing in on the Armenian Church, a view down Armenian Street.
One of the shops along Armenian Street in the Bara Bazar.
Stairway approach from street to synagogue #1.
Inside the first synagogue.
Inside the second, larger, synagogue.
Another view of the interior of the larger synagogue.
At the Ganges, called the Hoogley in Kolkata.
A few minutes of serenity before the mad dash back to pack!
We nearly missed the doors leading into the churchyard, which was wedged between shops and announced by a small plaque. Inside the double wooden doors stood the large church and burial ground. We were not allowed to take photos, so check out these to see what we were rewarded with by sticking to our quest.
Having whet our appetite for sacred building searches, we set out to find a synagog that was reputed to be nearby. This took yet another set of location negotiations, leading to a staircase off the main street that seemed highly unlikely to lead to any sort of holy edifice. But, having faith, we climbed up and found not one but two synagogs, the second even more large and impressive than the first. There are apparently not enough Jews in Kolkata to maintain the synagogues, and the larger of the two has just been beautifully restored to be used as a venue for concerts and other public events.
After a quick tour of the synagogues, we set out for our final touring destination, the sacred river of the Ganges. It being Valentines Day, the park we walked through to get to the Princep Ghat (flight of stairs leading to the river) was full of young lovers, and we even witnessed a proposal. The breeze was fresh, the vista of the wide river and imposing bridge was majestic, but alas, we only had a few short minutes to gaze and contemplate.
All too soon, we dashed for the car and headed back to our guest house to pack for our return home. We took a quick side excursion to one of Kolkata’s most tantalizing sweet shops, so that we could bring home actual sweets as well as sweet memories from our two weeks in West Bengal.
