Our friend Alan arrived yesterday full of a cold and the grim details of the weather back home. Other friends are making plans to move on, while we start to consider the trip home and the return to the numbing  repition of work.  We have not found this holiday as relaxing as past holidays, maybe it’s the double dose of upset stomachs that we have had. mine has returned with a vengeance and after five days of extreme discomfort and misery have self -prescribed antibiotics which I bought from the chemists for one pound 25p.  cannot bear the thought of travelling for 24 hours with the bug still in me.

We have done very little this holiday. The ancient Greeks used to think that Idleness and Contemplation were the ultimate aims and that work was an indignity only to be suffered by slaves. Most work is repetitive and boring. It can be compared to Sisyphus who everyday heaved a boulder up to the top of a hill only to find that it would roll back down to the bottom again.  I think the only people who really enjoy their work are the one’s that find repetition challenging. Enough of this ‘idle contemplation’! I have a reality check as I look out from my balcony and see a row of women in a paddy field, bent double in the baking heat, up to their knees in mud planting rice and then I see the ‘real’ challenge of repitition.

We haven’t done very much the last few days but last night I got a serious adrenalin rush by just doing an everyday thing. I went out on the scooter. We had nearly run out of money and both ATM’s in the village were closed so we decided to go to Colva on the scooter to get some cash. Jesus it was the most harrowing thing I have done for a long time. I’m used to riding the scooter here during the day and night around the village but last night was something else. All the street lights were out but unfortunately all the crazy drivers were not. We really did take our lives into our own hands. Big T sat on the back with her eyes shut while I dodged hurtling buses, cars on the wrong side of the road and two wheelers riding three abreast all of whom either had their lights on full beam or worse still had not bothered to turn them on at all! There was a car reversing at a junction on to the main road so we had to go around him and blindly onto the main road, another car turned straight into me at a four way cossing. Indian drivers cannot drive and added to that, they have no patience or any notion of courtesy. It is an absolute nightmare on the roads. There are many reports in the local papers of fatalities on the roads in Goa and they very often conclude with the phrase ‘the police are investigating the incident’. There can never be successful outcome to who or what was to blame for a particular crash for two reasons. Firstly, the police are totally inept and secondly, the traffic is so unfathomably chaotic and unregulated.  I’m afraid a few pamphlets will make no difference at all.

The troubles started a couple of days ago when a CD was released which contained derogatory comments about the local priest. The author of the peice had his house stoned and rumours abound saying that his house and several shops have been burned to the ground. I cannot verify this as the police have shut the town down. Hotels and shops have closed, all public transport and taxis have been banned and all traffic diverted away from the town. Ironically, according to the local newspaper,  sales of the CD have gone through the roof with many shops running out of copies.

New Years Day 01.01.10 -  We spent New Years Eve on the beach in the company of Linda, Malc & Owen (who we have known for several years) and met people from New Zealander, Germany and Belgium, got to bed about three. A lot more Indian tourists here this year, particularly groups of young Indian men. They can be easily spotted dancing feverishly in the shacks which play pounding House music. The Goans I have spoken to do not like the Indian tourists from other states and I have to say I can’t blame them. They are noisy, very demanding and sometimes quite rude and they leave a trail of litter where ever they have been.

Colva has settled down now but with the usual recriminations of Police incompetence.

In England if you keep chickens they are usually rounded up at night and put in a shed where they sleep peacefully until let out the next morning. In Goa there is no such dwellings so the birds roost in the trees. I know this because a cockerel sits on a branch outside my window and we are on the third floor. It starts crowing regularly from three in the morning to all the other male fowl which in turn starts the dogs off barking and howling. If the din wakes you it is a hell of a job to get back to sleep. That’s why I have quite a few Honeybee brandies before I go to bed.

I continue my quest to find expensively made but badly spelt signs. Today I came a cross this illuminated glass fronted sign in Colva: The Baba & Sons: SMILLING, SOUVIERIVERS which I assume means Smiling Souvenirs.

As is the custum here a nativity scene is built outside the house on Xmas Eve. Our guesthouse is no exception and has a six foot semicircle construction, a brick high and filled with sand. Boulders are put in the back to represent mountains and statues of Mary & Joseph et al are strategically placed, fairy lights are added to complete the nativity scene. Every morning we come downstairs and we find Tripti the guard dog and her eight week old puppy, aptly named ‘Puppy” asleep on the sand in the nativity scene. This morning alas things were different. Tripti was chasing the pigs and chickens but poor puppy was lying motionless in the sand. I was just about to leave when the pup let out an awful howling scream. Fatima the owner came over and said that it was dying. Life is so harsh here. Instead of taking it to the vet like we would do, she got one of the Indian workmen to move it. He unceremoniusly picked Puppy up by its back legs so it was dangling like a dead rabbit, carried it yelping with no concern for the animals comfort and took into the back garden where he dumped it at the base of a Banana Tree. The tree was under our back balcony. As a dog-lover I found the howls and yelps of agony very upsetting. Life is difficult in India but for dogs it is the most cruel of existences. Puppy had to endure a very painful and slow death while all around carried on as though nothing was happening.

The very unusual weather continues. It is still cloudy with very little sun. There is a heavy dew in the morning and it has a lot of salt in it from the sea, this is affecting the Mango flowers and stopping the pollination process. The farmers have already been affected by the late rains which destroyed all the cashew flowers. Climate change seems to be here already.

Met some interesting people and made new ‘friends’. Linda & Malc from Suffolk – they are our age and are travelling around India for six months. They had to alter there plans recently when she fell and broke her wrist in a cave 200 mile East of Mumbai. They came down to Goa to recuperate. Malc is into music and is the first person I have met in years that saw the brilliant white funk band ‘The Jess Roden Band” in the early 70′s. They have rented their house out for two years, after India, it’s Tibet and China, then next year the Americas,  starting with Patagonia. Wow! I can never understand the process where it always someone else that gets the excellent early retirement package!!

The saga of the disturbing neighbours ended in an unpleasant manner. The owners of our apartment were driving pass the restaurant just after the frascas took place, the American lady was lying face down in the road with blood streaming from her face.  Ron & Fatima stopped – the mad Indian was shouting that she had fallen over and to leave her alone as she was going to be alright. Ron knew she wasn’t OK, her so called partner had obviously whacked her, so they bundled her into their car and took her to hospital where she had seven stitches in her top lip. The next morning a taxi was waiting to take him to the airport and we haven’t seen him since. The bizarre thing is that we have been told that she was ‘sponsoring him’ , I guess that is another name for having a toyboy. When we happen to see her now she doesn’t make eye contact and covers her mouth with her hand. Quite sad really but my first impression of him was spot-on.

It is now Xmas Eve, the nativity scenes outside the Goa houses are being finished off and everywhere is getting ready for the big celebration tonight. We are meeting some people in a shack called Castellos which has become a firm favorite as the guys that own it used to be the waiters at the Meridien Restaurant, they also brought the cook with them, so now there is one place where the service and the food is excellent.

Big T is 50% improved and Satrurday night we wentout on the beach for a meal. My dinner was good even though the waiter served me with food I hadn’t requested. Theresa ordered Butter garlic Kingfish steaks and chips, she ate one I ate the other which was extremely good!After the meal we went for a stroll up the beach and came acrossa live band with a full PA rig. They were young perhaps not even in their twenties, the drummer was excellent but the sound man let them down. We had a drink and listened to the mediocre reggae they were playing and then moved on to the Malibu Bar. Outside the bar on the beach there was a small stage about a foot above the ground and on it sat six slender and obviously very tall Rajasthanis – four men and two women. The men were the musicians and the women the dancers. The music was beautifully haunting. They were led by a guy playing the Harmonium who sang and chanted in that unique Indian way where the vocal notes seem to glissando resulting in a dischordant sound. The other three guys were basically the rythm section, one  played the Dholak (a tabla type drum), one the cymbals and another played what could be described as flat hardwood Catanets. The castanets were about eight inches long, three inches wide and a quarter of an inchthick and he held two in each hand, they were very loud and effective. The women dancers had us mesmerised by their graceful movement and beauty. The Indian audience enjoyed them and showed their pleasure by walking to the small stage and handing some money to the dancer everytime she danced a particular move. I didn’t understand the Bhapang (gypsy) stories that the songs and dances were telling but it was very haunting and in a way quite sexy. I will definitely try to catch the whole gig next time.

Sunday – Day on the beach. Really oppresively hot today. There was an easterly off shore breeze in the morningbut it just stopped at mid-day. The sea was as flat as a pancake and the heat very intense but some clouds formed later to give a good sunset.

The neighbours continue to entertain and disgust. We were in an outside restaurant on Sunday night, they came in and fortunately sat away from us at the other side. After about two hours there was a cufufval, our manly drunken Indian neighbour was hitting and shouting at his partner. The confused and embaressed waiters waiters stepped in but didnot know how to handle the situation. He left first unabashed. She remained sobbing at the table eventually walking out through the still full tables of incredulous diners. More to come I think.

I have to apologise for spelling errors. Usually I check everything thru but I have had enough of sitting here this morning. We had a power cut for 15 mins and now my keyboard is being invaded by ants! 

We are back here again. Goa’s the same chaotic place. Our trip from the UK was uneventful, we had no delays but not looking forward to the journey home if the strikes go ahead. We were upgraded again to Business Class on the Heathrow – Mumbai flight. I think we must be lucky because out of the five long haul flights we have made with BA we have been upgraded three times! There seems to be a pattern or coincdence on the Mumbai flights. All our fellow Indian passengers like to book their seat numbers in advance – we do not – the airline always overbooks the flights and consequently we are moved up if there is spare capacity in the expensive seats. We were on our second glass of free champagne before we left the runway at Heathrow. In Business Class (for those of who don’t know) you get seats that turn into beds and attention from the stewards and stewardesses which is frankly embarassing and bordering on sycophantic. Two sips out of my wine glass and the steward was there offering ‘more wine sir’. Wonderful! God knows what first class is like – I expect the pilot goes up and asks which route they would like to fly!!

The not so good bit

We got to our digs at seven am. The owners showed us to our room – problem. It was the same one we had last year. I had phoned in October and I specifically requested a bigger and better room. I phoned again in December and they confirmed a price. I was particularly annoyed as it was the owners who had asked me to confirm  second time. They do this all the time in India ‘Yes” does not mean ‘yes’, it sadly may mean ‘no’ and I’ll rip you off if I can.  We sat in the room and talked about what should do – after travelling for 24 hours your brain gets a bit adled. I was just about to tell the owners we were not staying but I think Ron & Fatima sensed our serious displeasure and offered us an apartment on the top floor – basically what we asked for in the first place.

Big T has started the holiday off in her usual calamitous manner. Yesterday she managed to throw a bucket of water over herself in the bathroom while semi-dressed, then she slipped on the tiled bathroom floor landing in the adjacent room, legs bent back like some deformed crab bruising her ankle and her finger. We went out for a meal returned and then she spent all night throwing up. She has has been sleeping for an hour now, it’s 10.00 a.m, hopefully she is on the mend. Not sure what gave her the ‘Montezuma’s’ as both ate the same food and I’m fine.

The Kingfisher can be spotted anywhere in India and it’s stylized image is an icon. It is printed on beer bottles, it is the name of an airline and its caricature is painted on the sides of brightly coloured houses. The White Throated Kingfisher (Halcyon smyrnensis) is larger than the common Kingfisher and I think it embodies Goa and the Goan people magnificently. It has azure blue wings that represents the sea, brown underparts symbolizing the earth and a white patch on it’s breast and throat which epitomizes the purity of the Catholic piety that dominates the lives of so many here. The Kingfisher, like the people, is illusive and hard to pin down and is skilful at catching fish and is very noisy when it is agitated or excited. Taking a good photograph is nigh on impossible without elaborate equipment but the attached picture has caught some of the birds beauty.  

Three of the nine varities found in India

Kingfisher painted on the side of Shack

Went to Agonda on the scooter today – filled up with juice at 78p a litre. The 75 minute journey took us through some of the best scenery Goa can offer. The roads have impressed immensely in the two years since our last visit. We crossed the River Sal on the free ferry and then continued South through the Cashew forest, we climbed steep hills which the Honda really struggled with and passed monkeys by the side of the road.

Driving in Goa can only be described as chaotic and dangerous. If you can imagine a combination of Jousting, playing chicken and Russian Roulette all in one then you have only just thought of half of the experience. Driving here is a true manifestation of the Darwinian principle that the biggest, fittest and meanest survive. You cannot imagine how terrifying it is to to have a fully laden speeding Indian bus hurtling towards you on your side of the road for no apparent reason other than it can, blasting his deafening horn which tells everyone to get out of the road.

Des-Res

 week and stay in wooden huts on the beach. The huts have a double bed, a fan, a mosquito net and a shower and toilet. For that you pay about 600/- a night (5.80p). We had lunch at the Little Italy shack. The Avocado and Greek salad were excellent but the hummus and pitta were grim. The shack manager who hailed from Jammu and Kashmir was hoping for an improvement in trade in the New Year – I think he’ll have to up his game in the hummus dept to succeed!

One of our favourite restaurants where we eat in the evenings is a place on the beach called Johncy’s. It is a well established eatery with a good reputation. It is always buzzing, mainly with Indian customers often in large extended family groups. Whatever the time of the day the service is impeccable and the food top quality. The staff are exceptional and well worthy of praise, most of them are from Nepal and work like Trojans and always with courtesy and a smile. Johncy’s must have a least two hundred covers. It is open from 7.00a.m till 2.00a.m. They have just eleven front of house staff (waiters and pot collectors) and 23 kitchen staff. The waiters rely on tips as their salary is 1600/- (rupees) a month, which equates to 5.71p a week. They also get their meals and accommodation. I am not sure where these guys sleep but I know of places where the staff either sleep on the restaurant floor or on the tables. These guys would be worthy of working anywhere top class in the world if only they had the opportunity. What a contrast to the second rate expensive food and gormless, insincere and often surly service we get in the UK.