India: Goa

15.10.2013

• Else was already awake when I rolled over on our bus bed overlooking beautiful green mountains with sun rising over the mist. She couldn't sleep due to the severe cold of the air conditioning on the bus. When Else asked him (again) to kill the AC the driver decided it better that we just join him in the driver's cabin along with his co-pilot. Perched on our seats with a great view and made small talk and everyone took photos on cameras and smartphones sometimes when it seemed unsafe for a driver to be doing selfies with passengers. We watched the skies and cities waking up as we passed with people on their way to school and work and opening shops. Back in the passenger cabin Else took a quick nap while I chatted with a man who was just coming home to Goa after working the past eight months on a cruise ship, 11 hours per day, 7 days per week. He was especially excited to get home because he will be getting married to his girlfriend in just a couple weeks time.
• The bus arrived in Punjim and we negotiated for taxi to Anjuna Beach up north along the coast where we checked into Everstar Hostel. As we waited for our keys I spied a man walking out of his room and yelled, "Guillermo," to which our Spanish friend from the hotel in Mumbai responded with wide eyes and smiles. Always nice to see a familiar face while traveling. 
• Else and I are sharing a private room and are glad to have the space to spread out. We unpacked in a disorganized fashion, showered, and rested on the balcony under the palm trees for a long while, still recovering from our bus ride. Later we made our way out to shop where Else bought some lighter clothes (she has been wearing jeans for days in this Indian heat!). We stopped for breakfast at a cafe across the street and then returned home where I took a rare but much needed two hour nap. 
• When I woke up we lingered on the balcony but eventually walked down to the beach, past row after row of vending stalls selling anything and everything I don't want including the requisite Bob Marley and Che paraphernalia. We met two women selling jewelry on the beach, Shanti and Alexandra, who told us about how hard it is to sell items on the beach given the licensing process and police enforcement. 
• We smiled at cows, walked in the water, and sat on a wall near a new bovine friend to watch the sunset. We stopped at a restaurant on the beach and ate dhal by candle light under the moon. We shared a pot of chai and talked about the mysteries of the universe. I fall more in love with this woman every day - such a vibrant spirit, deep mind, and loving soul. 
• On the walk home we found a cow standing on the sidewalk leaning into the open door of a bar. Else and I had been joking about "party dudes" in tourist towns and decided this cow was looking to get in on the action, saying "Yo! Yo! Yo!" to the boys in the bar which, in cow speak, would obviously be, "Moo! Moo! Moo!" Thus the origin of the catch phrase with corresponding hand sign (and contorted facial expression) that would follow us through the rest of India (perhaps our lives?!). 
• At home we both talked to our sweeties on Skype. We connected again with Guillermo and met our other neighbor, Kirill, who is from Vancouver, BC, Canada, though is originally from Russia. We learned that Guillermo is way more than meets the eye; a quiet, slow-going man who has traveled more than almost anyone I know, who was on the Trans-Siberian Railway earlier this year, and has played Carnegie Hall. By the end of the night we had plans for the day ahead and it was clear that a new social group has formed. 

16.10.2013

• Our new crew started the day with breakfast at a restaurant overlooking the water where I took my eggs with a fresh watermelon beverage blended with ginger and mint. It was a refreshing way to start a day, taking in the sea breeze as the sun began to bake the earth. After eating we we took our time running errands and getting ready before the main activity of the day began: the renting and riding of motorbikes! 
• With safety helmets and a quick fuel-up we were riding off along the backroads into the fields and waterways of northern Goa. The wind and open roads felt so free and careless. We dodged cows, crossed a long bridge, and finally found our way to a beach where we didn't hesitate to strip off our clothes and plunge into the not-as-warm-as-you-would-imagine waters. We played on the sand and climbed on rocks like summer children before hopping back on our bikes and riding further north.  
• We arrived in Arambol, driving down the narrow road to the beach where we parked on the sand. We strolled past people flying kites and playing games and found a small restaurant up the hill at the far end of the beach that served sushi and Indian food. We had barely ordered when we began a conversation with a Russian woman dining solo behind us who invited us to join her table. She had been living in India for the past six years and will welcome her first child into the world here in Arombol in just over three months. She told us about the hardships of life in Russia and how the attraction of India led to a spiritual journey and a new home in the world. Our group talked over our ideas of why people stay and leave their homelands - from the more adventurous to the more arduous reasons. We gabbed for hours over our meals and a decadent dessert called, Hail to the Queen, which is something like three desserts shoved into a bowl and topped with whipped cream. I was overtaken by the length of the day, the calm of our quiet dining setting, and the sugar crash and found myself asleep in my chair at one point. Ah, relaxation. It was a long but peaceful ride home and I made it an early bedtime in preparation for another day of riding tomorrow. 

17.10.2013

• Another breakfast date for our crew overlooking the sea. We spent some time trying to buy train tickets after and Kirill had to get his next rabies shot after being chomped by a dog in Nepal. All that work deserved a short rest before riding out again toward Arombol but this time with a goal of getting lost. It wasn't long before an afternoon shower forced us to stop for lunch where we befriended a talking dog whose vocabulary mostly revolved around his hunger and our food.
• After lunch we shoved off and made twists and turns down unknown roads through small communities. We stopped at one point to follow the lead of two kids who were swinging on tree vines - an activity we couldn't restist trying as well. It was great fun until Kirill's vine broke and he fell and slid across the ground. That was the signal to move on. Just up the street we found a dirt road up a hill that became a real off-road path through tall grass to vistas overlooking the green hills and valleys around us. We took in the fresh air and made a bumpy ride back down and out to our first beach from yesterday to watch sunset and moon rise while Guillermo swam. 
• It was getting late and we decided to ride home stopping at small fruit stands along the way to collect a giant bag of passion fruit. Back at the homestead we took up residence upstairs on our balcony to gorge ourselves on fruit along with a few fresh coconuts we spiked with rum, a favourite drink I took to in Cambodia. We spent the evening talking and laughing and playing a game called Two Truths and a Lie to get to know each other better. We cracked up as I tried to have an inappropriate conversation with Else's boyfriend via the magic of Google Translate. We also shared some internet culture, Kirill playing music from Alex Webb, Marin Parr, Bruce Gilden, Henri Cartier Bresson, Vivian Meyer. He showed us a terrific YouTube clip of Soviet singer, Vladimir Vysotsky, who wrote a song in gibberish-English to make fun of the popularity of English language music when people didn't actually know what they were listening too. Kirill is also a photographer and showed us work from them Magnum Photos as well as his own website which features phenomenal work! The warmth of the evening was nothing compared to the warmth of friendship and the heat of our belly laughs. 

18.10.2013

• Today was a quick breakfast with Kirill and some sweet goodbyes to our new friends before Else and I called for a cab to Vasco. Our cab driver's mother is recovering from cancer for which she is expected to need bi-monthly medication for the rest of her life which requires a trip to a hospital in Mumbai as the treatment is not available in Goa. He had a lot to share about the medical system in India and the challenge for families to provide home-care. 
• In Vasco, Else and I purchased train tickets in preparation to leave Goa in a few days time and then caught a local bus to Margao where we transferred to another local bus to Palolem. The people on board were like us - tired in the heat - but the bus had a festive feel with lights, bright paint, and loud Indian pop music (which I love and which Else kept asking passengers for artist names of the best songs). The bus ride afforded lovely view of the hills and trees and human life as we took in the beauty of southern Goa, the smallest of the Indian states which was once colonized by the Portuguese who also lingered there after India's declaration of independence from Great Britain.
• We arrived at Palolem beach and found our way to the office for our hotel, Laughing Buddha Cottages. After check-in we were given a lift by motorbike down the road to a cluster of rustic beach huts where we settled into our tropical accommodations for the next few days. We were anxious to see the ocean and found a spot for dinner on the beach just adjacent our cottages where we ate yet another lovely meal watching yet another lovely sunset. Some things never get old. 
• Back at the homestead we were joined for a porch chat by Manju, the on-site manager for the cottages. We gabbed for a couple of hours while the evening settled in with a rain shower and Else napped. Later in the evening we would walk through the small town of Palolem Beach and stop into an internet cafe (most hotels and restaurants are not wifi wired which means that people tend to look at the water instead of their smartphones) where we chatted with our loved ones and started to make plans for our next travels. We walked home along the beach in full moon dipping our feet in the water and lingering in the coolness of the sea spray. Back in the hut we cuddled up under our mosquito net and watched part of the 1982 Academy Award winning movie, Gandhi, before we both nodded off in the glow of my computer screen.

19.10.2013

• This day can be summed up in the word, relaxation. There is not much to do in this place besides relax if you are a tourist and we both welcomed the change of pace after a busy week in Mumbai and many days of movement since. We slept until noon, walked down the beach to a different restaurant where we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. We shopped a bit but bought nothing. We changed into our swimsuits and played in the water. We found a spot to have drinks in the shade and then walked on the rocks taking photos of the sand flats, the water, and each other. We returned to our breakfast restaurant for dinner over candlelight which was quite tasty and very romantic. We met a Brit named Oliver, stopped at the internet cafe, and then tried again to watch the Gandhi film though tonight the computer gave out before we did. One paragraph days are so sweet. 

20.10.2013

• Our last day in Goa and clinging to this feeling of relaxation. We lingered over breakfast, slowly ordering one item after another and talking about our lives and hopes and worries and relationships and anything else that might be scripted in a boring art-house film. A sweet pup sat under our table for hours. We met a friendly Dutch couple. We barely moved and relished in it. 
• A quick turn around at home and back to the beach. Else sat and wrote while I swam and sunned. We looked for spas and were surprised to discover that none exist here. We ate lunch and talked to a Goan man about his life working abroad under terrible conditions in Kuwait until he made enough money to return to Goa, open a restaurant, and raise his family. India has a large number of people working overseas and sending money home, known as remittance, which most migrating workers would rather earn at home where they can be near their loved ones.  
• We returned home to pack - we will not actually be staying in Goa tonight but catching a train after 1 AM up to Delhi. With our bags ready we said goodbye to our cozy hut and headed to the internet cafe for our last communications home for a couple of days before grabbing a cab for the one hour ride to the train station. Our taxi driver humoured our request to turn the music up on his self-made mix and I regret to this day not trying to buy a copy off of him. At the station we waited, and waited, and waited. We drank chai tea, bought halval, wandered the platform, watched a cargo train pass carrying buses and trucks, sat in the parking lot, drank more chai, and wondered about the comings and goings of the large numbers of people sleeping on their bags throughout the station. Finally on board our late train we navigated a mix up of seats, pulled down our beds in sleeper class, and curled up in bunks with the wind rushing past our open windows. The long day is over and the long journey begins.