TRAFFIC

It's so funny that every time I take a photo of the main road near here, it comes out looking like there's only one car on the whole road, instead of the insane loud bustle of hellish traffic racing in both directions with everyone trying to pass everyone else. 

Big day today. My neighbor took me last night to see a friend of his, who is being a cell phone technician to look at my phone. After much hullabaloo, which I didn't understand, he tested my SIM card in his phone and it worked so we established that it was my phone that was problematic. So I made arrangements with a driver to go this morning to Panjim, the capital city of Goa for an excursion. The first stop was the authorized Apple repair shop. My driver dropped me off in the general vicinity and I used my rudimentary mastery of Hindi to ask directions. I must say, I was impressed at how well I was able to communicate. 

Anyhow, I found the Apple repair shop on the fourth floor of an old building (many steps) and it was locked shut (even though the sign said the hours and I was there during business hours. I asked the accountant down the hall, and he told me they were moving. He did tell me that there was an Apple Store nearby and that I should ask someone to direct me to the Fidalgo Hotel. So back I went, asking directions again and eventually found Apple Corner, where I was told that many Indian SIM cards are not working with the new iPhone 4S. He told me to use another company and made sure to tell me to get the microSIM card from that company and not let them cut a regular SIM card for me. 

GANDHI OR GARY?

Next stop was the Khadi shop, for homespun cotton garments that I like to where both here and back home. This was one thing I wished I had bought more of last time. So... Again with the asking of directions. This was a bit more difficult, since a Khadi shop sells traditional Indian garments, and Indians want to wear Western clothes, so they would have no reason to go there. But I found it finally. And... It's closed and locked. The sign says the hours. I am there within the usual hours. But nothing. So I stand and wait. Eventually a man comes and opens the shop and suddenly I am one of three customers in the tiny shop. I stocked up on clothes to make me look more like Gandhi. 

Two more stops and the driver took me back to Candolim and I had him drop me at the post office. Next adventure. I had a bunch of Indian clothing and souvenirs to mail home, rather than trying to stuff my tiny suitcase. First I looked outside for a lady who would stitch up a package. Nope. So I climbed the stairs to the stifling little post office full of customers clambering to be served. When I finally get the attention of the clerk, I ask her where I can have my package sewn. She tells me that it will take some time. "Sit down." she yells. I look and there is only one chair in the tiny public area an the man sitting there jumps up and instructs me to sit. So I sit. Finally, the clerk asks me if I have a photocopy of my documents. I do. I hadn't expected to need them there, but had brought them for the phone store, in case I needed a new SIM card, which I did. Then she asks me I have the customs documents. No. I don't. So she hands me a photocopy of the customs document and tells me that I will need two. Lol. She tells me to go somewhere and make a photocopy. Lol. I ask if I can't just have another and I could pay her for it. She says no. 

So now I have to pile all my days shopping as well as all the other things I had brought along that morning to mail, and head back out into the hot sun to search for a Xerox machine. I find one three blocks away and make eight copies of her customs document (I'm learning, and had a feeling I might need more than one) and six more copies of my passport and visa (I've already used four this week). Then I trudge back. It's at this point that the clerk tells me that I have too many things for one package and it will have to be split into two packages. So I will need four copies of the customs document and two copies of my passport and visa. Ahah! I have enough. The clerk, who had assumed that I would have to go back out fo copies was clearly impressed with my preparedness and suddenly became a bit friendly. She began sewing the parcel herself as I began filling out four copies of the customs document. This all took about two hours. 

On the way home, I stopped at the phone shop of my neighbor's friend and bought a new SIM card. (one more passport copy and one more passport photo). I asked if they had a microSIM card. I said I didn't want a regular SIM card cut. "No problem. No problem." Sure enough, she cuts a regular SIM card to fit my phone. We shall see. 

Tonight I went off to Jivi's house for dinner. His house is a bit out of the way, about 45 minutes from the beach. But what a beautiful home. It's an old Portuguese villa that he has had enlarged in a very stylish way. Four guest rooms and several large dining areas both indoors and out with manicured grounds and a lap pool. Two very emotional dogs greeted me at the gate and ripped my sarong (where shall I send the tailor and dry cleaning bills?)While chef prepared dinner for us, Jivi showed me around the grounds. One of the servants (all cute boys) followed us around and Jivi barked commands at him in Hindi. This candle needs a plate beneath it. This painting is hanging too high. This plant is too green. It was all a bit much. 

नमस्ते

WILDLIFE

Everybody loves an elephant. Yes it's true that little is surprising here once you're accustomed to the madness. Along the crazy main road (really only wide enough comfortably for one lane of traffic, yet somehow accomodating much much more) one regularly sees dogs and cows and the occasional goat or ram (???). But an elephant us always a source of joy. Even the Goans (a tough crowd to impress) stop to touch the elephant. So when I saw this beauty, I had to stop and take a snap. Of course, as soon as I had, the old Sadhu following the elephant ran across the busy road to demand money, which I was happy to hand over. 

Still no phone or Internet access. It has been a week now with no means of communicating, save the unreliable Internet cafes and the pay phone shops, which are even less reliable. For the first several days, the phone company assured me that my phone would be activated in another six hours, so I kept assuming that soon I would have a phone that worked. My friend, Jivi, is very cross with me, having sent me an email saying how disappointed that I've decided not to be in touch with him. But every time I go to the store to phone him, they either have no electricity (a common problem) or their satellite is not functioning. When I finally got through, I could not hear the person on the other end. It sounded as though his servant was holding the telephone receiver to his face the wrong way round. Quite possible. The next time I got through, the servant said that Sahib was sleeping. I've tried twice since then, but with no success. 

In my kitchen a gas hot plate with two burners sits atop the kitchen counter. The gas tank sits on the floor floor below. There is a rubber tube that runs from the tank into a hole in the wall and then back out another hole above the counter into the hot plate. Yesterday as I was cooking my eggs and coffee, I saw a lizard crawl out of the hole behind the hot plate onto the counter. I tried to shoo him away, not anxious to share my breakfast. I then noticed that the tip of his tail was stuck inside the hole and the poor fellow was struggling frantically to get free. I was going to help him out by using the handle of my fork to giggle free his tail. But then I decided that I couldn't handle the drama of all this before having my coffee. As I went back to my eggs, I noticed that the lizard's tail was not caught in a crevice, as I had thought, but was being held in the mouth of a larger lizard, presumably the mother, to keep the little tyke from getting in trouble. More family drama. I now have a white cat that comes to visit every day. She meows loudly as she wanders through my abode looking for loose lizards, no doubt. All the animals here seem to have a lot to say. The crows caw all day long. The dogs next door bark wildly all day and all night. I assume they take turns. And the people next door are constantly yelling at the dogs to be quiet. It's sweet. 

But not quiet. 

I've been getting up and running along the beach at sunrise every morning. There are lots if people walking on the beach at that time and a few others running, as it is nice and cool. Many people walk or run with sticks in their hands, to ward off attacks by rabid dogs. It's a real problem. I remember that last time I didn't carry a stick until my last week here because something happened, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was that happened. Well this time, my theory is that the wild dogs will only attack people with sticks. So I am not yet carrying one. On my third morning, mud run, two dogs came after me. I sensed that they were domesticated so I put out my hands in a friendly way and they both jumped up on me to play. Very friendly dogs, but not eager to let me get on with my run. 

This morning, the same two dogs came after me, again jumping on me and being very playful. This time, though, there wa lots of playful biting. I didn't love that. (yes, doctor, I have rabies, but it's playful rabies) One of the dogs grabbed my running shorts and wouldn't let go, pulling them down a bit more and a bit more. Grrr. I only brought one pair!!!

What can I say? Friendly locals. 



नमस्ते

GO HOME!

This is one of my favorite things in all of India, this sign. It always make me laugh. Especially the part about not abusing children and your loved ones are waiting for you at home. This is in the town of Calangute, which has a big bus depot with buses arriving from various parts of India. Many Indians have never seen the sea, so that is often the purpose of the trip. The buses stop on the main road, which ends a bit further at the top of a large concrete municipal stairway leading down to the beach. So people regularly get drunk on the bus, get off and walk down the stairs and across the sand into the ocean and drown. Also, however, these steps are apparently notorious for being the place where married men go to meet boys to have sex with. Hence the reminder that your wife and children are waiting for you. It never fails to make me smile. 

I've been here most of a week by now and still do not have a working phone or Internet capability. I cannot seem to get myself worked up enough about it to care too much, though. I'm have too good of a time. My  days are very hectic, what with running along the beach at sunrise, then back for a nice breakfast on the veranda of my glamorous abode. Actually the veranda is quite lovely, probably the least filthy part of the place. Then I write out there or take a local excursion. Yesterday I went to the weekly market in Anjuna, about a 30 minute drive north along the beach, to see lots of mirrored bedspreads. Tomorrow I'll go to Mapusa for the second time, it's a town inland about 45 minutes by crowded local bus. Somehow that makes it sound way more glamorous than it really is. Many of the passengers seem to ignore the "No Spitting" sign. I do love the bus, though. The buses are owned by the drivers and each is decorated in the owner's own style; often with various religious pleas. Hindu, Christian, Muslim, doesn't matter. Bless this bus. 

Then, if course the belly of the day is spent on the beach right behind my house.  I go for a mile swim, then dry off in the sun before discussing the days fresh fish options with the shack owner. I'll have grilled fish and vegetables or, my favorite, fish-curry-rice. Then a walk along the beach to digest lunch and a bit of reading before the next mile swim. Hard work, but somebody's got to do it. 

Dinner is usually in one of the amazing local outdoor restaurants, serving (you guessed it) local fish caught that morning. Yum. Tonight, though, I felt like something different, so I walked along the beach to Calangute. It's about a 35 minute walk. I could take a taxi, but, well... I may be brave enough to come to India on my own, but traveling on that road in anything smaller than a bus absolutely terrifies me. Besides it is a lovely walk. Calangute is always packed with a circus-like feel. I walked around town, walking through the Tibetan Market, looking at their cool jewelry. 

Then onto my main destination, the Punjabi Dhabba. This is a grubby little place, often packed with the Indian bus drivers, searching out some true Indian food, much like I was. I ordered enough food for four people and proceeded to stuff myself. It is such good food and most of the entrees are less than a dollar. You can tell it is a true Indian restaurant when a couple of the waiters just stand there and stare at me as I eat. They were cute, so I didn't mind. I would look up and smile and they would smile back. Sweet, really. After that, the moonlight walk back was very much appreciated to work off a couple of those entrees. 

Tomorrow when I'm in Mapusa, I'll go back to the Vodaphone store and see if I can't make further progress. I am not extremely hopeful. 

Update: I'm on the bus to Mapusa right now and usually it is such a loud roar and clank and grind of the ancient engine that you can't hear anything else. But this bus is like riding in a hybrid, it is so quiet. Now I understand why. I did not understand why the driver did not stop for me, but only slowed a bit so I could run and grab onto the bar of the moving bus. But now I see that the bus engine stalls at every stop, so whenever the bus is not going uphill, the engine cuts out and we coast. Such blissful silence. At one stop, the fare collecting boy took money then climbed into the drivers seat and drove off. I guess the driver quit. But then at the next stop, the driver climbed back in the window and drove off. I think he was underneath working on the engine while the boy drove!!!???

Yet again there are so many photo ops I miss. Last night in Calangute, in the midst of the crowded street, with thousands I people and motorbikes nearly hitting people left and right, there was a huge black ram walking around, scrounging for food. Now cows, you see every day, but a ram? Black ram, black pavement, black night, I tried to photograph him with no success.

 

नमस्ते

HOME SWEET HOME

If you've never been to a place like this it is so hard to understand what it's like and I really am at a loss for words to explain it. But I'll try. I'll also send some evocative photos as they present themselves. 

First, the smell is a heady mix of sea air, jasmine, fish, diesel fuel and poo. It really is crazy and hectic and loud  and chaotic in a way you may never have experienced or even imagined. It makes me laugh out loud several time each hour. 

Ok, I've finally gotten my iPhone fired up, so here's my first report. I should say up front how incredibly happy I am to be here, in case the rest of my report makes you doubt that. I arrived yesterday to beautiful warm weather. It was 32 celsius (about 95 Fahrenheit) when we got off the plane, which is just right for me. I took a pre-paid taxi, which I thought was very expensive. The driver went like mad, of course. We only had one accident, when he sideswiped another vehicle while he was passing a bus on a bridge. Lots of glass hit me in the face, but we didn't stop, so I took that to mean it was not serious. 

I went first to Andre Couthino's house, where I stayed last time. No joy. So I went to the shop, Dylan Store, and left my bag. The lady there wanted to rent me one of her rooms, which were ok, but the ones with kitchens had no cooking facilities. She assured me that she could get me a stove, but that gas was a problem. Actually it seems that gas is easy to get but the gas cylinders are impossible to come by, without bribing a government official for a permit or a license. 

Then, my first stop was Pauline Lopes's. Pauline runs the shack on the beach where I liked to hang out last time and she lives right behind the shack. My friend, Philippe from Paris stayed in one of her apartments and it was positively glamorous with a view of the ocean.  Pauline's house was my first choice, but I had emailed her daughter six months ago and knew she was full. 

On the way, I met the local Nigerian drug dealer, who followed next to me on his motorbike, wanting to be my friend. I made it clear that I didn't want drugs, but I have a feeling that this new friendship may come in handy one day. Pauline didn't know of anything, but her husband made some phone calls and found me a place 5km down the beach, which didn't sound good to me. So the next stop was the money changer. I changed some dollars and bought a SIM card for my phone, then wandered back toward the old neighborhood, but in a larger circle this time, basically walking into people's houses and asking them if they knew of an apartment for rent. Usually they would ask me how long, and only after I said three weeks, would they offer to help and direct me here or there. Everywhere I was sent was full.

After about two hours of this, I was sent through a series of people to Mama Cecelia, who looked me up and down and sent me to a woman who might know a place. She looked me up and down and came out and took me down the road to the house right next to Pauline's where I had first started. So this is right next to where Philippe and Christine stayed last time I was here. Now by this time, I had rubbed the skin on my feet and heels raw, wearing the sandals I have not worn since August. I can tell that this will spell future trouble. As it turns out, this is the house of the brother of Pauline's husband. They don't speak to each other. In fact, when the girl showing me the apartment told me her name, (also Lopes) I asked if she was related to Pauline and she said no.

The apartment is not very nice, a bit dirty and lots of insects, but the location is perfect (as close to the beach as possible, right behind Pauline's shack, where I like to hang out.) And it has cooking facilities. It is smaller than my place last time and not as new. She cleaned it for me before I moved in. (Really???) and provided a bottom sheet on the bed and two pillows. The bed feels like a yoga mat on top of marble, but not quite that soft. I should have a perfect back after three weeks.  The bathroom sink seems to drain right into the floor, which is better than the kitchen sink, which does not drain at all, just standing, dirty, stagnant water (always good in a malarial region). As usual, it is much hotter inside the house than outside, so the ceiling fans are going like crazy. They sound like old jet engines that nobody bothered to lubricate for thirty years. Really loud.  The kitchen and bathroom seem to be where most of the bugs are, marching in formation across the walls. This makes me wonder two things: where are they going, and what the hell did they spray in the bedroom to keep the bugs out of there. Remember the scene in one of the Harry Potter books where the giant spiders are all marching into the forest and the kids decide to follow them, eventually finding the mother of all spiders, the size of Europe... 

Once I settled on a price for the apartment, I cut my SIM card to fit my phone, and it did not work. So I went back to the money changer, where he and his son and his son's friend, and his son's friend's brother tried for three hours to get it working. This was more painful than searching for an apartment. Finally the money changer said it would not work with Iphone and gave me my money back, saying to go to Mapusa for a Vodaphone SIM card the next day. I went back to the little shop and bought toilet paper, a towel, and water and went back to wipe the grime from my face. 

I went off to  my local favorite, Harmony Restaurant, for dinner. It was nearly 8pm now. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I briefly fell asleep at the table, waiting for my dinner. As I remembered the food was amazingly good. Kingfish baked in a Tandoori oven with potatoes and vegetables. Mmm. As usual, I don't fall asleep easily in new places, and it was even hotter in the house than before. I turned off the ceiling fan over the bed, since I hate having air blow on me at night, especially here since it is so dirty from the dirt lanes outside. I think I actually fell asleep but then woke at 2am with Mosquitos buzzing in my ear, so I turned the fan back on and threw a dhoti over myself. By then I had a pounding headache, it was still really hot in the bedroom, and I did not fall back asleep. At least the outrageous noise of the fans drowned out the barking dogs next door. I got up in the dark to pee and the bathroom lightbulb exploded. A bit dangerous since one always walks barefoot inside here, but I thought at least some of the glass might fall on the insects and reduce their numbers. The apartment is so funny the way it is decorated. There are only three electrical sockets in the apartment, and one is occupied, powering the sweet catholic shrine on a shelf in the living room, with a flickering light bulb. 

I got up in the morning and went for a run on the beach just as the sun was rising. So beautiful. I'm writing this in the bus to Mapusa, the closest small city/large town, which is a lot like writing inside a barrel rolling down Niagara Falls, except there are more cows in the way. Everyone here uses their horns instead of their brakes. It's wild. Ok, I'm back from Mapusa. I really do love it there. Although I must say the process of getting my phone to work was a tad frustrating. I was told explicitly by the money changer to go to the Vodophone Store, you can't miss it. He also made sure to instruct me to wait there until it was functioning and NOT TO LEAVE UNTIL THE PHONE IS FUNCTIONING. Ok. Ok. So the first thing I see when I get off the bus in crowded Mapusa is about a hundred tiny "stores" with big signs, saying "Vodophone". Sigh. So it turns out that none of them sells SIM cards and each one directs me in a slightly different direction to the Vodophone Store. Well it turns out to be not at all near the centre of town, so is a bit of a hike. And it's packed. I push my way in and the lady is quick to push the locals aside to deal with me. She begins quizzing me to see if I have the necessary documents, certain that I won't. I course I have come prepared with photocopies of my passport and visa a passport photo of myself, etc. She looks crestfallen that she has not stumped me. Then she gets a gleam in her eye and announces that she wants two copies of everything. No one else requires this and she was not requiring it of anyone else. But one does not argue. She asks me if I have another photo and I smile and say yes I do. She snarls. She asks if I have another photocopy of my documents. No, but I have the original. Finally she smiles and says I must return when I am prepared. Lol. So I go off in search of a xerox machine. You can see how this goes... Anyhow, when I have Finally jumped through all the hoops and paid for the SIM card, I am told that it will not be active until after 8:30. It is just too funny. I'd been there for an hour and a half and was not inclined to wait another minute. So I left with my fingers crossed. 

Then I went to buy some lunghis to wear here, a stove top espresso maker, a coffee mug, a fork, a spoon, a knife, a plate, a bowl and a pan for omelettes and a pot for heating milk in the morning. Then a quick trip to the dispensing chemist for drugs I'm too embarrassed to ask my doctor for and bandages for my bloody feet.  Then off to the road where all the banana sellers are to try a kind of banana I've never had. There must be people selling forty different kinds of bananas. How great is that? Then the last stop is the dairy for fresh buffalo milk for my morning cappucino, buffalo curd (which I was sad to see I no longer sold in little clay pots-sad), fresh cheese and butter. And of course a lassi while I waited to be rung up. 

I love Mapusa. There are so many things I want to take photos of, but can't do it fast enough. Like the big signs in the busses, saying "No Smoking. No Spitting." But when standing up in a speeding bus, swerving to avoid a stray dog in the road, surrounded by forty Indians, all packed close together and gawking at me, the last thing on my mind is reaching into my purse for my iPhone. So I got back from Mapusa in time for a swim and a late lunch. Pauline's husband said he had nice fresh snapper caught this morning, so I asked him to make me fish curry rice. It was so so good! Then a bit of sun and another swim. No venomous sea serpents spotted yet, but I'm on the lookout! Because I'm so pale, I am having to endure the unending unwanted attention of beggars and hawkers selling the usual junk. "Please. Please. Just to me a little business. It will make me so happy." Sorry, I really don't want a beaded bag or a shell necklace. It was so so great to swim in the warm Arabian Sea. However the stinging in my bloody foot sores did make me think it was not the best idea. 

As expected, the response to my mustache has been overwhelming. They love it. People here are much less reserved about expressing their opinion. So I have had many comments (mostly positive, I think) about my body or my clothing or my mustache and often about my whole look. Apparently as odd as I look walking in the West End of Provincetown, wearing Indian garments, they think it's even weirder here. Wait until they get a look at me at the Taj in Bombay!

This afternoon I went to the lovely little bookshop nearby and bought a pile of new Indian novels and one nonfiction book and sat in their lush garden and enjoyed a cup of coffee. Then I did my food shopping for a proper breakfast and then finally arranged the apartment the way I like with a table and comfortable chair on the terrace outside. Now I'm on the beach watching the sunset. It is so very beautiful here. Now I am laughing out loud because just after I typed that, a stray dog came up to me, I said hello, and he came right in front of me and took a big crap!

नमस्ते