Stylex Tailors, Calangute, Goa Monday 22nd September

The surrendering...

3 days we've been in Goa now, with my two fellow Irish backpackers , Niamh (pronounce « knee-of ») and Maud, joined by Roos and Mareicke who have just left today. It's been a funny old stay so far. Calangute is the equivalent of Costa del Sol or something similarly frightening in Spain or somewhere (although on reflexion, you could also compare it to a kind of post-war Ibiza, ex-USSR with golden chain style) - i.e. exactly the type of place I cannot suffer. But it's off season, (we constantly feel like we're in a Little britain episode, at the travellers agent's "Can we go to this restaurant then?" "No, sorry....It's off season...!") so all the other resorts are shut. and when I say shut, I mean shut. dead. Nothing open. Niamh and Maud can testify! So this was more or less our only option, a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of Mumbai.

ndlr 30.09.08: let lots of people on the "sleeper" bus from Goa to Hampi who stayed in Paolem and Anjuna and they absolutely loved it; lesson learnt: never book more than one night in a hotel if you are unsure about the place!!

So anyhow, here we are now, in an India that's not India, in an India where, in the words of Maud, « the salt IS in the salt shaker and the pepper IS in the pepper shaker », whereas everywhere else so far, it has been the other way round...if you were lucky enough to actually get any salt or pepper! We have a beautiful hotel with marble floors, marble bathroom, hot water, huge terrace running along the room, lovely lovely owners, perfect location just a « cat's jump » from the beach where there tend to be more dogs and cows than humans... And it's been "interesting" so far. Annoyingly, the Indians here are often the type of people that give India a bad name - following you on the beach, insisting they get a picture of you and them, giving you lots of hassle you on the streets for taxis, bags, jewellery, questions, money, asking you at least 5 times the price for a cab fare that they would ask of a local etc etc etc...Quote of the day: "Yes Madam? look my shop, looking is for free, no buy, no money, yes Madam, just look!"

But, like with a coin that has two sides, or a banana which you have to peel the ugly skin off before you can enjoy the soft fruit, you also get the other side of Indians. The taxi drivers who laugh when we drive over humps and pot holes the size ofmini craters and shout to the one in the « boot » that she's lucky to get « free Indian massage », and if we bang our heads, it's free « head massage »! the Indians who, even they haven't a clue what you are talking about or asking about, will do everything they can to answer your request, from asking any passer by to phoning someone who understands English better to creating a small gathering on the street just so they can help you out. The guys from the internet café who keep serving me free Cashew feni with lime soda and have downloaded me my favourite Bollywood song. the shop owner who proudly poses for the picture and asks you to see it with a huge smile. The sideways headwiggle when, after they have stared at you for long enough, you headwiggle at the men of the local thali-house ( a little like a restaurant/canteen that serve about 5 different dishes) and see their faces lighten up and all of them giggling like young girls and headwiggling back to you. The look of approval and slight surprise when they realise you push « western » cutlery ustensils aside and use your roti and you hand,like them, to eat.

I could go on for ages but will stop for fear of sounding cliché. Right now, this is a perfect example of Indian understanding of time: I wanted my parcels to be sewed up by a tailor before sending them away to Nepal and Australia (apparently this is the local « enveloppe »! You put all your stuff in a box, then bring it to a tailor's and they sew it up so it's sealed and ready to go) and the tailor told me to come back at 3:30. It's almost 5 now and he is only just starting on my second box, so I am sitting on a stool in his shop, typing my diary, and I have become part of the furniture. India-time. Like when I ordered a drink yesterday, and not only did it take them half an hour to realise they didn't have the required ingredients any more, it then took them another 30 minutes to prepare the drink I had finally settled for. You can get angry and annoyed and impatient and frustrated, but the Indiians will just laugh and shrug and headwiggle. or you can just surrender. and call it a free Indian « mind-massage »...

If there is one thing that india won't do, it's that it won't leave you indifferent. Everyone had warned me about it and it is so incredibly true. The smells, the sounds, the colours, the people, everywhere, each street corner, a bit of a story unfolding. You might wake up to the lovely smells of dhal cooking in your lodge's kitchen, then step out of your room and smell the putrid humidity of the corridor, the unwashed smell of sweat from the guy behind the counter mixing with the smell of incense burning and the food he is eating..and that's all even before you have stepped out onto the streets! You might hate it, or you might love iit, or might love to hate it or hate to love it. But you cannot be indiferrent to it.

To be continued...