Back Again
We’ll we are here again. I’m on the beach and right beside me I have a wizen old woman who is wearing heavy thick-lensed glasses, she is leaning on a stick with her hand held out and repeatedly saying hello, thank you, hello, thank you. I know you thought it was Theresa but it’s not. It is yet another beggar. The patience and tenacity of these poor unfortunate people is impressive. I probably can’t even start to imagine the severity of the hardship and prejudice that she has suffered.
Our flight from the UK was OK but the transfer at Bombay was ludicrously disorganized and bureaucratic. If Bombay’s answer to the terrorist threat is to treat weary travelers to more unnecessary investigation and ticket stamping then nothing will improve. The recent terrorist attack started from a boat from which originated from Pakistan not a BA flight from Heathrow. Most terrorists, as far as I am aware do not tickets or passports when on a mission. It seems to me that inconveniencing the general public further seems totally pointless but governments have to be seen to be doing something and the quickest and cheapest answer is to inconvenience the innocent. Chaos ensued when we transferred to the domestic terminal – the Indian Airlines staff were late for work at the check-in desks and when they did arrive chaos broke into overdrive. Ad hoc queues formed for security checks, there was lots of shouting, hand- jestering and head wobbling. The confused travelers stood about in bemused incredulity. Traveling anywhere in India is not for the faint-hearted but it is particularly more taxing after a ten hour flight, fortunately our short India Airways flight down to Goa was non-eventful – tea and biscuits were served by stewardess’s dressed in sari’s – I wonder if there is a health and safety issue there?
FRIDAY:
I read in the paper this morning that the Indian government are trying to discourage Israeli’s from coming to Goa. Every season some 40,000 come to the beaches and the local government see them as a possible target. I am told that on a beach in North Goa the Israelis have there own security network installed – how weird is that? It’s very quiet here with a lot less western tourist than usual. All the Goans are blaming it oon the incident in Bombay. I don’t think they see the effects of the ‘credit crunch’ as an issue. The very idea that British people cannot afford to come out here is unimaginable.
SUNDAY:
Not sure what was wrong with me yesterday. I seemed to have slept most of the day on the beach which is very unusual for me. I think it was a combination of getting over the journey and the heat. It is very hot here at the moment. The Goan’s are saying that it is too hot for the time of year – after all it is their winter. Today, however, I’m fine again. About fifty yards across from our digs is a lake which is teaming with wildlife. There is a magnificent Marsh Harrier, several Purple Swamp Hens, Coot, Paddy Birds, Waterhen, Egrets, Jungle Babblers and some wintering Gadwall ducks which is a first spotting for me. Below our balcony the cacophony of a typical Goan morning ensues. A clucking mother hen with four chicks proudly but warily wanders under the almond tree while three young pigs squeal and snort around the place looking for scraps of anything barely edible. The owner’s young puppy yaps and wants to play with the pigs but one of them noisily gives him short shrift and above the raucous crows argue over everything. On the other side of the lane is a half built five storey block of apartments. They are half hidden from our view by the Mango and other trees. This illegally built shell of a property resounds with the sound of loud Hindi music and is home to the workers – men, women and their children – they live in the most basic of conditions and work from sunrise to sunset for six days a week, the music being their only entertainment. The local Panchayat (council) have forbidden the building of new properties which are more than two storey’s high, however, the owner/developer is the brother of a government minister and refuses to pull it down.
Today is the workers day off. A woman surrounded by three small kids sits on a pile of gravel and does some sewing while her husband relaxes in the early morning sun amongst the building blocks.
