To Bangkok and Back

I am in India on a tourist visa which means my passport does not have to be registered, but I did have to leave the country and come back in before 180 days had expired.
At first I thought I would just take the train to Bangladesh since it is close, but then I learned that the Bangladeshis and the Indians aren't very friendly toward each other and as a result, Indian trains cannot cross the border. Okay, I'll fly. the bishop offred his brother's residence and hospitality to me and everything seemed ready, almost at any rate. I needed a visa to go to Bangladesh, not an easy thing to accomplish since the High Commission of Bangladesh in Calcutta is only open for a blink of the eye each morning. It would take about three days to get a visa. While I was in Calcutta making my travel arrangements with the bishop's travel agent, the travel agent suggested Bangkok. No visa for American passport holders and he could put together a nice little package for me at a reasonable price. So all was arranged. I would fly out on Friday, the 28th around noon, be picked up by the staff of the company the travel agent uses for hotel packages, etc., be taken on a tour of Bangkok on the way to a nice hotel, then taken back to the airport on sunday for the trip back to India.
The bishop provided a car and driver for me and we left early on Friday morning for Calcutta and the airport. It's my birthday.
I checked in, got my boarding pass and headed to Immigration. That's IMMIGRATION!
Now I have to confess I knew I had overstayed the 180 days by a couple of weeks, but I was counting on Immigration to be like India Post, totally incompetent, or at least have a stall at the airport where visa delinquents could pay the penalty and move on. At the first station, the officer is looking at my visa and counting on his fingers from Sept to March, which is six months. He says, "You've been in the country longer than 180 days, you must register." I say politely, "No, I only have to leave the country which is what I am trying to do." At the next station, since more officers have been alerted, the officer growls at me about being a visa delinquent, but I stay calm. I don't say anything stupid like, "So what are you going to do, put me in jail?" I don't dissolve into silly putty on the floor. I do call Bishop Dutta. "Help, I'm in trouble." He speaks with Mr. Growly, but even the bishop has no clout with Immigration, and he tells me I must return to Durgapur and then go to Bardwan (county seat) to the Chief of Police and register my passport. "Then, he says, you won't even have to leave the country." "Oh great." By this time, I was looking forward to leaving the country. Another officer appears and says, " You can register at the Foreign Office for Registration of Passports in Calcutta. But you cannot fly today." Dollar signs started flashing through my mind. I was escorted back to the Jet Airway's desk, and this officer hands them my boarding pass. "This is really happening," I'm thinking. But the airline folks were great. They changed my ticket for Sat. and extended it a day, flying back on Monday at no charge. I have friends who must be getting a good chuckle out of this whole scene.
I called Peter, the travel agent to tell him my plight. The bishop had already called him, and he had already cancelled my package.
First I had to go to the registration office. Again I was reprimanded for overstaying my welcome, but then this officer was pleasant with me the rest of the time. I told him I needed to register, and he explained that a tourist visa cannot be registered, but that I still needed to leave the country. I told him that Immigration at the airport was a bit confused about this. He was surprised by that. I get all the paperwork done and head to the travel agency to work out another booking. Peter breaks the news to me that the company Globotel will not change my itinerary nor will they give me a refund. Peter is not happy, and I am certainly not happy, even if it was my fault. Peter says he will no longer do business with Globotel, and I hope he doesn't. Some birthday.
I fly out the next day at the same time, get myself to the hotel, which is okay, and then try to figure out how to do Bangkok in eight hours.
Unfortunately, I arrived at the hotel late and didn't know you had to book a tour a day in advance, so seeing Bangkok with a tour group was nixed. A nice young Thai taxi driver offered to take me around for the day at what seemed a reasonable fee to me.
I didn't see the floating markets, not even from the shore as they are located outside the city and required a long drive. I didn't see the temples, or the Thai people at work along the canals. I did go to a couple of handicraft galleries (driver's idea) and finally I got him to take me to a market that was listed in the things to do brochure I picked up at the hotel. The very things that were in the galleries were also on the street, though much less expensive. The driver probably got a commission of some sort for bringing folks to the galleries. Oh well, I still enjoyed my stroll along the street.
I did see, however, skyscrapers, McDonalds, Starbucks, KFC, Tescos, 7/11, Shell, Esso, and of course lots of Toyotas,and Hondas. The cars are like ours, big, but the drivers stay in their lanes which are actually marked, and there is virtually no horn blowing, and it's clean, all unlike India.
I did go to a Dairy Queen to satisfy my craving for a chocolate milkshake and to Boots to get an Rx that India Post just can't seem to deliver to me.
Sounds like a nice place to visit, right? It is if you like everything western, but I love the color, the sights, the smells of India. Yes, it's frustrating not to be able to buy simple things like tweezers (lost mine in Bangkok), or a can opener without searching through the markets and the department stores which takes days. India Post is the pits requiring all kinds of rules for mailing packages yet having no rules for deliveries. About five of my packages have "gone astray."
I love all the different kinds of transport: the buses, the motorscooters and cycles, the rickshaws, the bikes, and the three-wheeled goods carriers. I love dodging the free roaming cows, dogs, and goats, the poojas and the people.
I can understand why Gandhi had such strong feelings about preserving India's culture, refusing to buy or use anything that was not Indian made.
When the west moves in, the culture moves out. Back at the hotel, I did enjoy some time in the jacuzzi and a Thai massage by a hefty Thai woman, but I was ready to get back to the colorful and lively world of India.