Our efforts started out a little disheartening with a failed attempt to purchase train tickets and the sweltering heat/humidity leaving tempers and tolerance pretty low. There is really only one thing to do in these situations - eat. We found an oasis way up above the city at blue and beyond restaurant. It felt as dated as a 1990’s wedding reception venue, but it gave us a chance to fill out bellies and regather our confidence. The best advice I could give to travellers of India, is to use a local travel agent to purchase train tickets. We sought the help of Bengal travel services, a tiny hole in the wall agent, who took the brunt of stress and confusion, along with a small commission. A bearded man with walnut skin dressed in a pure white thawb turned our friendly small talk into one of science v religion, big bang and the teachings of the Koran in a matter of minutes - he also turned out to be the owner of the business. With tickets sorted all the way to Agra, we celebrated with cold mango juice and an afternoon in our little mouldy ice box.

Feeling ever more the cosmopolitan city described in the guidebooks, Kolkata has a fine selection of trendy eateries. Fire and Ice took our fancy so we ventured out into the thick heat, prying our way through the roti makers, fruit sellers, milk stirrers, taxi drivers, street dogs, travel agents, tailors and low hanging electricity wires. The streets were crowded, loud and chaotic, but somehow felt much more exciting and clean under the cover of night, glossed over with neon lights and street lamps. We shared tasty, cheesy, traditional pizzas under local cubist paintings and black and white Hollywood shots from the 50’s. On the walk back up Park street - the place to be seen back in British colonial days - we dropped by ‘Flurrys’ a very English teahouse-style cake store. The atmosphere was nice, the cakes were dry and the tea was expensive - Mumma, you would have been very disappointed.

Reminding you that you're in India, this modern metropolis doesn't start moving again until at least 10am. Our breakfast was delivered to our door (which took us both by surprise) before we set out in temperatures already over 30. Today's cultural delight was the ode to the late colonial Queen Victoria built in 1906 - the Victoria memorial; A sparkling white marble reminder of all the British empire gave and then took away in those years of foreign rule. In its ironic beauty, it holds fascinating insights into the life that has been lived here, the echoes still resounding in the boulevards and architectural facades. The Royal gallery holds romantic visions of 18th century India painted by William and Thomas Daniell, and captivating Kalighat Pat paintings, the fruit of changing times and necessary innovation. Historical facts and figures danced around in our minds as we devoured street kusum rolls and (as a trade off) McDonalds.

On dusk, we cautiously stepped back through the streets, hitting the main drag as car lights turned on and people flocked to Park street in droves. We ended up in a little restaurant called Peter Cat - a dark and moody place that felt like it had a story to tell. Traditional Bengali food seemed fitting for our farewell, amplified by polite waiters dressed in traditional Mughal costume. We finally discovered what a ‘sizzler’ is, and enjoyed the illustrated cocktail menu.

The next morning we left as early as the city would allow to visit another famed pilgrimage site - one that my high school teachers would approve of - The Mother house, where Mother Teresa lived, worked, died and continues to rest. Modest is an understatement, and I have nothing but respect for the work started and continued by the sisters living here. The walk to and from the giant blue building showed a different and more confronting side to this place, added to the unabashed stares, lingering eyes and starving kids - I tried to keep words of the Saint herself in my mind as I walked “We shall never know all the good that a simple smile can do.” It's hard to walk by people looking into your eyes, asking for you help and it's impossible to help everyone, but a packet of rice, a few rupees, or buying gum when you don't even need/like it feels like it helps, or at least it brings a smile to a few.

We spent the rest of the day covered in sweat at the Indian museum; a relic itself, unchanged in anyway since 1815. Wooly mammoth tusks, rocks as old as the earth itself, an Egyptian mummy, Jurassic fossils and more statues of Shiva than you could poke a stick at - it was quite a fascinating exploration through thousands of years of history.

Leaving Kolkata proved to be quite unforgettable. I have never in my life witnessed such an unwavering flow / crush / crowd of people, carts, motorbikes, cars, buses, animals and taxis. Think, leaving a football game at ANZ stadium in peak hour, and add about 1 million more people. It was exhausting, exciting, unnerving and crazy. We swam in our own sweat on the back seat of our yellow Ambassador Classic, nervously looking at our clock (it took 1 hour to travel 15kms), and bidding farewell the the city that stole our Indian virginity.