I caught the 6:55 am train to Goa. The most exciting part about this whole trip is my bag! I don't have it! I left it in Mumbai at the guest house and am traveling with my day pack! It is wonderful and it makes me want to send my big bag home!
The train ride was exciting in two ways. First I read a lot of Biology, and second I blew my nose more than I ever have in any other 10 hour period! I am most definitely allergic to either Indian cities or their musty hotel rooms... After wheezing asthmatically through the night (same as in Ooty) my nose didn't stop running....it was trying to keep up with the train and it did...
The Snot Rocket
One of my favourite things about India is the acceptance of the snot rocket as a means of nasal clearing. Pinch your nostril and blow! This wonderful means of cleansing the sinuses is not looked down on here by the enlightened folk as it is at home.... And lucky for me.... My nose would have been redder than a rabbi caught in a bakery on passover.... The doors of all the train cars are always open, and this along with a sink was to be my relief.
There is an art not only to the snot rocket, which for your sake I will not go into, but also to sticking your head out of the door of a moving train... Apparently there is some large number of people who annually fall out of trains, but the enjoyment of having the open door is too much to keep them closed! Can you imagine via rail allowing you to hang outside the train....
Thinking about it the art might just be common sense....hold on very tight to the handles, and then slowly stick out your head...be prepared for a passing train to scare you half to death and then open your eyes! If you are successful, and you will know this as you are still alive, then you can slowly remove one hand from the handle and place it on your nose... the rest you can guess....
So the people near me must have thought i was the owner of the worlds smallest bladder, I got up and went for a walk every 10 minutes for the whole ride... I felt like an old man who just seems to always have water dripping out of his nose and I am not looking forward to returning to any city soon! I hope to ask an Ayurvedic doctor about these allergies.... The only thing my western doctor ever did was tell me I had asthma and give me a puffer... (long story short, as soon as I moved out of my parents' shag carpeted home my 'asthma' was gone) So we will see if eastern ideas can help.
I arrived in Goa, cabbed with some Italians to the beach and went to find the Seaview guesthouse and Babu....
About Me
- mike in motion
- I'm currently on a bit of a world tour to learn about other cultures and ecosystems... Feel free to leave a comment or recommendation or say hello
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Bombay, Mumbai, and a fool
Once upon a time there was a city known as Bombay. Once upon a later time it became known as Mumbai. In this time no one knows what to call it the city hasn't noticed at all.
In Goa local people call it Bombay, usually, in Mumbai many people call it Mumbai, and I have not figured out what is up. Iti s possible it has to do with different factions of the people, those in power like names that reflect them, not the last dynasty, but after that I am just guessing...
Here is the story.... At the Arombol beach I had heard there was a lake of fresh water, just around the cliffs at the end of the beach. I had a train ticket for the night train but still time to go to the lake. I headed there and it was beautiful! The best part of Goa that I had seen! And there were trails heading to the mountains... There is also the ocean 100m from the lake and this beach was even quieter than Arombol's... i immediately wanted to stay but I had my train ticket so after a dip in the ocean and the lake I headed back to gather my bags... On the way I stopped at an internet cafe to get some money as I was down to my last rupees!
The trip from the beach to the city is a 10 hour train ride which I elected to do at night... I had met a French couple on the platform who suggested a guesthouse in the city and that is where I decided to go when I arrived. So I entrained for the 10 hour journey and found my bed. (Have you ever heard of the word entrain? I like it, it is in books written in English by Indian authors but I had never heard it before) Here is a funny thing I had heard about trains... There are gay Indian men in saris, the wraparound body sarongs that women wear... and what they do on the train is a great business model... Almost zero output and they get paid not to perform. Rumor has it that they come up to you and if you don't pay them then they lift up their skirt and show you that third leg of man, the hindu Lingam, the snake on the train!!
Well one of these men came up to the compartment I was sharing with a family and the father jsut stood up and let him have it for a bit until he walked away, keeping all epidermis that was covered still covered.
While detraining I met a group of Germans, who asked me if I had an idea for a guest house and then we went off together to find the one the french coupe spoke of....
Two of the four Germans were acting as guinea pigs for a company making a patch to keep away that dreadful de-solidifier.... the muddy backwaters of the underpants, diarrhea. For trying a new preventative drug they received something over $2000 Canadian each for their trip, and a little red dot on the arm...
While getting our rooms I realized that my passport had not made the trip to Mumbai with me! The last time I remembered using it was when I took out money in Arombol and I hadn't needed it since. I had given it to the guy to take my info and then used a computer and then left...
My first instinct was to be excited as I really wanted some more time at the beach! I settled into Mumbai with the Germans and tried to figure out a way to make sure my passport was still at the cafe....
I remembered I had run into a girl I knew form Montreal at the beach and found her on Facebook, but she was already gone. My next idea was to call random guest houses on the beach until I found an English speaker which I did on my second try. His name is Babu, and I gave him rough directions to the internet cafe and he told me to call him back in 10 minutes...
I did and he sad that he didn't have it, then he said "just kidding, I got it"...not only did he have my passport but also my sense of humor! So I was able to rest easy, enjoy 2 days in Mumbai and plan my return to the beach!
One of the Germans, Aga, they all have names but it is easier to refer to them collectively, had a local friend and they invited me to join them for the day....We went to an animal market, not my favorite place it was like a mini zoo. As all the cages were mini and filled with cats or dogs or birds... It was sad but there were some neat species.... we walked and cabbed around and ended at the beach were on Sundays (and it was Sunday) thousands of people turn out for the sunset... it was crowded with a fun festive atmosphere, and we made friends with some kids who wouldn't leave us alone... never give a kid some popcorn when you have a full bag of it that he can see!!!
As it was the first night of passover I tried to get to a seder, and called the chabbad Rabbi... He asked me to e-mail him and he would send me the details... This he failed to do and I didn't get to go to a seder. I did get to have time to say goodbye to the friends form the train I had been rooming with and planned to take the 10 hour ride back to Goa the next morning...
In Goa local people call it Bombay, usually, in Mumbai many people call it Mumbai, and I have not figured out what is up. Iti s possible it has to do with different factions of the people, those in power like names that reflect them, not the last dynasty, but after that I am just guessing...
Here is the story.... At the Arombol beach I had heard there was a lake of fresh water, just around the cliffs at the end of the beach. I had a train ticket for the night train but still time to go to the lake. I headed there and it was beautiful! The best part of Goa that I had seen! And there were trails heading to the mountains... There is also the ocean 100m from the lake and this beach was even quieter than Arombol's... i immediately wanted to stay but I had my train ticket so after a dip in the ocean and the lake I headed back to gather my bags... On the way I stopped at an internet cafe to get some money as I was down to my last rupees!
The trip from the beach to the city is a 10 hour train ride which I elected to do at night... I had met a French couple on the platform who suggested a guesthouse in the city and that is where I decided to go when I arrived. So I entrained for the 10 hour journey and found my bed. (Have you ever heard of the word entrain? I like it, it is in books written in English by Indian authors but I had never heard it before) Here is a funny thing I had heard about trains... There are gay Indian men in saris, the wraparound body sarongs that women wear... and what they do on the train is a great business model... Almost zero output and they get paid not to perform. Rumor has it that they come up to you and if you don't pay them then they lift up their skirt and show you that third leg of man, the hindu Lingam, the snake on the train!!
Well one of these men came up to the compartment I was sharing with a family and the father jsut stood up and let him have it for a bit until he walked away, keeping all epidermis that was covered still covered.
While detraining I met a group of Germans, who asked me if I had an idea for a guest house and then we went off together to find the one the french coupe spoke of....
Two of the four Germans were acting as guinea pigs for a company making a patch to keep away that dreadful de-solidifier.... the muddy backwaters of the underpants, diarrhea. For trying a new preventative drug they received something over $2000 Canadian each for their trip, and a little red dot on the arm...
My first instinct was to be excited as I really wanted some more time at the beach! I settled into Mumbai with the Germans and tried to figure out a way to make sure my passport was still at the cafe....
I remembered I had run into a girl I knew form Montreal at the beach and found her on Facebook, but she was already gone. My next idea was to call random guest houses on the beach until I found an English speaker which I did on my second try. His name is Babu, and I gave him rough directions to the internet cafe and he told me to call him back in 10 minutes...
I did and he sad that he didn't have it, then he said "just kidding, I got it"...not only did he have my passport but also my sense of humor! So I was able to rest easy, enjoy 2 days in Mumbai and plan my return to the beach!
One of the Germans, Aga, they all have names but it is easier to refer to them collectively, had a local friend and they invited me to join them for the day....We went to an animal market, not my favorite place it was like a mini zoo. As all the cages were mini and filled with cats or dogs or birds... It was sad but there were some neat species.... we walked and cabbed around and ended at the beach were on Sundays (and it was Sunday) thousands of people turn out for the sunset... it was crowded with a fun festive atmosphere, and we made friends with some kids who wouldn't leave us alone... never give a kid some popcorn when you have a full bag of it that he can see!!!
Beaches
For the last 3 weeks or so I have been living on various beaches, sleeping in huts that are made of paper and enjoying the ocean...
The beach, or rather the waves have been more fun than I can remember and I keep diving into them, getting knocked over and floating on my back when it is a little calmer. One of the neatest things I have seen, or maybe noticed for the first time, is how the water comes at you. It might be due to the very gradual slope of the beach, but after you stand knee deep for a while, a wave will come and after it you are waist or chest deep. It is like a wall of water (not tsunami size, just under a meter) coming at you. It is a neat effect to look at, very similar to canoeing up to a beaver dam, you can see the higher level of water just behind the dam, sitting there....
Hopefully your imagination can make that as neat for you as it is for me... If not imagine something else really cool and dwell on that for a bit... Ill give you a sec!
Ok, so this whole area is something of a little Italy... there are pizza and pasta restaurants everywhere and the 'western' food is better quality than the Indian... One has to work hard for a tasty Indian meal here.
The first beach area was Gokarna, where there are 4 beaches, one more remote than the next, lots of guest houses, restuarants, hippies, and Indian men there too look at all the female white skin they can take in. It is a little gross and I am happy to not have to worry about it...I may never be able to give birth but I can rest on the beach without some dirty man sneaking pictures of me.
From Gokarna I (along with Sarah my pretend wife in public to help her with these men) went to Goa. This is a Portuguese colony, and the architecture sure proved it! We started in one of the main cities whose name I forget and it was beautiful. It was like colonial Mexico, and it was clean! People were friendly and not staring and a good time was had.
*Tangent
I was reminded that on the way to Goa we had a few hour stop over in Bangalore, and a funny thing happened... I was walking on a pedestrian overpass, and an Indian guy was walking towards me and he touched my chest and then my face! It was a little weird, but apparently not too rare, I just wish I had been quicker to touch his face too.... I think that is the best way to deal with it, although normally it is just stares and it is fun to stare back...
*end tangent
We headed to Anjuna beach, which had some party music...got to dance to the trance which was lots of fun...This was where the 'Goa Trance' scene started and fluo-dreaded hippies dance-stomped across the planet! It was my own personal haj that is now comlete... (sorry no glo sticks)
After Anjuna we went to Arombol, a quieter beach but quite similar, and I got divorced! My pretend wife headed on her way and I stayed to enjoy some more Tom Robbins books and the sea....
The beach, or rather the waves have been more fun than I can remember and I keep diving into them, getting knocked over and floating on my back when it is a little calmer. One of the neatest things I have seen, or maybe noticed for the first time, is how the water comes at you. It might be due to the very gradual slope of the beach, but after you stand knee deep for a while, a wave will come and after it you are waist or chest deep. It is like a wall of water (not tsunami size, just under a meter) coming at you. It is a neat effect to look at, very similar to canoeing up to a beaver dam, you can see the higher level of water just behind the dam, sitting there....
Hopefully your imagination can make that as neat for you as it is for me... If not imagine something else really cool and dwell on that for a bit... Ill give you a sec!
Ok, so this whole area is something of a little Italy... there are pizza and pasta restaurants everywhere and the 'western' food is better quality than the Indian... One has to work hard for a tasty Indian meal here.
The first beach area was Gokarna, where there are 4 beaches, one more remote than the next, lots of guest houses, restuarants, hippies, and Indian men there too look at all the female white skin they can take in. It is a little gross and I am happy to not have to worry about it...I may never be able to give birth but I can rest on the beach without some dirty man sneaking pictures of me.
From Gokarna I (along with Sarah my pretend wife in public to help her with these men) went to Goa. This is a Portuguese colony, and the architecture sure proved it! We started in one of the main cities whose name I forget and it was beautiful. It was like colonial Mexico, and it was clean! People were friendly and not staring and a good time was had.
*Tangent
I was reminded that on the way to Goa we had a few hour stop over in Bangalore, and a funny thing happened... I was walking on a pedestrian overpass, and an Indian guy was walking towards me and he touched my chest and then my face! It was a little weird, but apparently not too rare, I just wish I had been quicker to touch his face too.... I think that is the best way to deal with it, although normally it is just stares and it is fun to stare back...
*end tangent
We headed to Anjuna beach, which had some party music...got to dance to the trance which was lots of fun...This was where the 'Goa Trance' scene started and fluo-dreaded hippies dance-stomped across the planet! It was my own personal haj that is now comlete... (sorry no glo sticks)
After Anjuna we went to Arombol, a quieter beach but quite similar, and I got divorced! My pretend wife headed on her way and I stayed to enjoy some more Tom Robbins books and the sea....
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