Wanderlust Heaven!

Took a ride on Thursday up to Arambol Beach, one of the northernmost areas and an enclave for stoned Israelis and their brethren, as you can probably tell here:

The beach itself is pretty scenic…and the cliffs nearby harbor a slew of hotels, shacks, bars, and shops. As I walked along the cliffside path I was offered drugs by at least 5 people…including an old woman. The old woman drug dealer approach may be a good one – the cops might not suspect it, and even if apprehended the judge would probably slap her on the (osteoporotic) wrist…

I had gone for the ride to help clear my head. The previous night I had gone to Nine Bar with a friend of Umang’s named Monesh (Mo), and a couple English lasses we met at Bean Me Up. It had been a fairly long night and we had had fun with the girls, one of whom was a British Airways attendant based in Dubai. On the ride up to Arambol, deep in thought (or in a daze) I was startled by a couple of beasts hopping across the road. Were they kangaroos? Come on. Dogs? Too rangy. Actually, they were big-ass monkeys, probably running away with some loot from a tourist or shop. They climbed up a house to the roof and made a clean getaway…and I drove on.

Got back to Vagator, did a couple errands, and went down to the beach. The hordes of Indian tourists were already there, so I walked to a far corner of the beach and camped there. I was wading into the ocean when I noticed an elderly Indian fellow sitting on the beach nearby. He was sitting calmly in a cross-legged, almost lotus position, and had his arms akimbo. I thought he was practicing yoga – but he was just talking on his mobile. Should have known…

While relaxing in the waves I took a few minutes to marshal my thoughts and synthesize some observations that have been emerging recently. I’ll mention a few of those here.

First, while this place (India) is often maddening, it gives you what you need. There may be no place on Earth where it’s more difficult to take care of a stupid little task – buying some tape, for instance. Or, better yet, let’s examine a recent episode where a waiter took my order, for one thing, walked off, and came back 3 minutes later to confirm what I had ordered. He carried no pad of paper with him, of course. And let’s not overlook the annoyances associated with obtaining and charging a SIM card here. But yet, it all works out just fine…as long as you aren’t coming in suffering from hypertension or anxiety. If you are…well, don’t come to India. The magic of this place reminds me of an overused Buddhist proverb which says that the teacher appears when the student is ready. The magic of India only really works for those who are ready to experience it.

Most of us aren’t ready to experience it. And that can be absolutely infuriating – I know tourists who have come to India, had crappy experiences, and left almost immediately. The locals are by no means exempt. Right now the International Film Festival of India (IFFI) is being held in Goa, and from most accounts it’s been a real cock-up. Hundreds of delegates, presumably VIPs, have been unable to attend key screenings because organizers (if that’s the right term) have given out tickets far in excess of the theaters’ capacity. The streets outside the cinema looked like they were hit with bombs. And so forth…

But the India magic has had a positive, almost transformational effect on yours truly, to get to my second observation. I’ve felt completely relaxed and free of tension in the past couple weeks, for the first time in years. Perhaps it’s simply that I’ve been in one spot and not traveling like mad…but I think it’s more than that. I’ve got to grudgingly admit that having some sort of routine is a good thing…it can make one predictable and boring, but it also creates an ordered space in which to get things done. I’ve been going to yoga class and running regularly in the past couple weeks. I’ve been eating good healthy veggie fare from Bean Me Up. I’ve been getting my laundry dropped off and picked up in time. And my body feels great…beer belly is almost gone, my arm and leg muscles are more defined than they’ve been in years, and I’ve got more energy than in the past. Maybe spending time here, like this, can help reverse the aging process. And if it doesn’t, well, I can always try the Atkins Diet!!

Third, I’m only now truly realizing what an information hog I am, and probably have always been. Or re-phrasing that slightly – I love to learn and need to keep that up. Every month my family’s been sending my mail over from Boston, and those ‘care packages’ include The New Yorker magazines and a few others. I’ve already mentioned the bounty of The New Yorker. My head just swims as I work my way through each edition…a recent one had a piece on The Drake Equation. The Drake Equation was developed by Frank Drake in 1961 as a way to focus on the factors which determine how many intelligent, communicating civilizations
there are in our galaxy. The Drake Equation is:

N = N* fp ne fl fi fc fL

The equation can really be looked at as a number of questions:

N* represents the number of stars in the Milky Way Galaxy.
Question: How many stars are in the Milky Way Galaxy?
Answer: Current estimates are 100 billion.

fp is the fraction of stars that have planets around them.
Question: What percentage of stars have planetary systems?
Answer: Current estimates range from 20% to 50%.

ne is the number of planets per star that are capable of sustaining life.
Question: For each star that does have a planetary system, how many planets are capable of sustaining life?
Answer: Current estimates range from 1 to 5.

fl is the fraction of planets in ne where life evolves.
Question: On what percentage of the planets that are capable of sustaining life does life actually evolve?
Answer: Current estimates range from 100% (where life can evolve it will) down to close to 0%.

fi is the fraction of fl where intelligent life evolves.
Question: On the planets where life does evolve, what percentage evolves intelligent life?
Answer: Estimates range from 100% (intelligence is such a survival advantage that it will certainly evolve) down to near 0%.

fc is the fraction of fi that communicate.
Question: What percentage of intelligent races have the means and the desire to communicate?
Answer: 10% to 20%.

fL is fraction of the planet’s life during which the communicating civilizations live.
Question: For each civilization that does communicate, for what fraction of the planet’s life does the civilization survive?
Answer: This is the toughest of the questions. If we take Earth as an example, the expected lifetime of our Sun and the Earth is roughly 10 billion years. So far we’ve been communicating with radio waves for less than 100 years. How long will our civilization survive? Will we destroy ourselves in a few years like some predict or will we overcome our problems and survive for millennia? If we were destroyed tomorrow the answer to this question would be 1/100,000,000th. If we survive for 10,000 years the answer will be 1/1,000,000th.

When all of these variables are multiplied together when come up with N, the number of communicating civilizations in the galaxy. Depending on the inputs, you can come up with almost anything, but I’ve seen estimates ranging from 100 to 10,000. More than a few, anyway. So get your computers powered up and link in with SETI’s network to find our friends out there!

There was also an article on an old movie short called The Powers of Ten, in which an initial camera shot of a man lying down in a park was taken back ten times (i.e., the second exposure was from ten times the distance as the first), and each ensuing shot was ten times the distance from the previous. They somehow were able to go back to 10 to the negative 24th power. That sounds like quite a ride…so I got on Amazon.com and ordered the movie, which was put out by a couple brothers, Charles & Ray Eames, who were into that sort of thing Now that my return to the States is nigh, I’ve been getting on Amazon and preparing to order a slew of books/movies to greet me when I arrive. Amazon is perhaps my greatest addiction…

Even with my initial quality filter operating, I do find it necessary to separate the wheat from the chaff as I go along. I just read Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. You may have heard about this book, the author supposedly escaped from an Aussie prison, got to Bombay, and became a figure in the local underworld and film scenes. The story is rollicking…but the writing is often painfully corny and detracts from the story itself. There’s a lot of sophomoric philosophy in there – lots of ‘Karla once told me that suffering is the inverse of love’ and ‘he wanted to change the world’ types of crap. Boiled down and stripped of the pretentious musings, Shantaram would make a great 2-hour action movie. But the book is 900+ pages and a major commitment. I decided to read it because it concerned Bombay, a city close to my heart. And much of the book rang true about the city…it did remind me of my summer there in ’92, when I too arrived as a bit of a refugee, spent the first few weeks lost in translation, and eventually found my footing and made friends with a cool set of locals and expats who made that time unforgettable. So I’m happy I read this book…and very happy to be finished with it. Try it at your own peril…

Fourth, I’ve increasingly come to realize that I’m fascinated by the inherent oddness and individuality in (many) people I meet. While I’m often crusty and grumpy, my exoskeleton can be peeled away with a bit of effort. Case in point: I was eating at a kebab/biryani place the other night, and while sitting there drinking a Kingfisher and reading Shantaram, a waiter came over and started asking me the usual questions: what country, how long in Goa, first time there, etc. Generally, this is a form of torture and Westerners react badly – myself included. But this time I decided to let things flow, to smile and answer his question, and to avoid my usual impulse to ignore him. And you know, he turned out to be a really nice guy, he’s from Goa and gave me several ideas on places to visit. What I liked about him, and about many Indians, is this: he appears to live mostly in the moment. He was smiling, not anxious, not doing 3 things at once – you know what I’m getting it. I was reading about a global poll about ‘happiness levels’ in different countries. The study covered a huge # of countries, and India came in near the top – whereas most of the Western countries were much lower. I think the US was #70 or so. You really do get a sense that many people in India are curiously happy, despite (because of?) their material circumstances. I wonder if we might distill and bottle their happiness for export…

Along similar lines, I’ve become friendly with Lisa and Richard, who own Bean Me Up. She’s American, he’s French. They’ve been in Goa, and together, for around 20 years. Lisa reminds me a bit of Leza, my American-born yoga teacher in Tokyo. They’re both cool American women who have lived abroad for many years, and have acquired local habits while not losing their basic character. I think they’d get along nicely…I really should work to get them together at some point…perhaps Leza can do a yoga retreat in Goa. Lisa and I brainstormed a bit about expanding her restaurant concept overseas, I think it would work well in certain spots in the States. I haven’t really been in business mode for the past 11 months or so (hard to believe it’s been that long since I left Monitor), but I must admit to writing a Powerpoint slide last night in which I laid out a framework of guiding questions for Lisa and Richard about Bean Me Up and its operations. Powerpoint was my bane at Monitor, and I’ve enjoyed not opening up that application in many moons, but I thought it would prove useful this time, and it did. I certainly don’t mind a bit of pro bono work to keep my brain sharp.

Fifth and finally, I’m still amazed at the ease of communications and global connectability today. When I lived in Bombay in ’92, there was no email or web, and you couldn’t get a foreign newspaper under 3 days old. Trying to follow the Red Sox’ pennant race was like reading ancient history. Now there are Internet cafes everywhere, mobilephones, newspapers, etc. It’s unquestionably a positive thing, but I do find myself consumed by information and some days go by like a flash.

There you have it…my own version of sophomoric philosophy for the week.

What else can I tell you? I went to Ingo’s Market on Saturday Night, it’s like Mackey’s Market except with more of a foreign twist. Typically Indian for there to be two huge night markets on the same night…of course they couldn’t divide and conquer across Friday and Saturday. Anyway, enjoyed the market and ate and drank way too much.

Prem Joshua and Sat came back from their gigs up north, which went well. They were starving for good food, as you can’t even find an egg up in Rajasthan – hardcore vegan diet up there. We’ve been hanging out for the past few days, eating a lot of tandoor kingfish (we made another trip to Souza Lobo), and catching up. I’m heading to Mumbai this Friday (tomorrow) to catch their gig in Bandra there. I’m only going for one night, then back on Saturday to Goa. I’ll only have one more week in Goa and I want to spend it in high (or low) style.

Prem and Sat, and Umang as well, have all become good friends in my 6-7 weeks here in Goa, and I want to see them again before too long. I think we’ll stay in touch and perhaps even collaborate on something creative in the future.

Rode up to Fort Aguada a few days ago. This was a major Portuguese fort back in the day, and watches over the entrance to the Mandovi River from the Arabian Sea. It’s a huge place, and sits atop a huge aquifer, which made it nearly impervious to sieges. ‘Aguada’ is Portuguese for ‘water.’ It was never taken by force, but the British did push out the Portuguese for several years, in order to prevent the French from down south (Pondicherry) from coming up and invading Goa. When the British left, the Portuguese moved back in. The history of the Konkan and Malabar coasts is something else – almost every major Euro power stuck its hand in the cookie jar at some point in time.

At the bottom of the hill sits the Aguada Jail. Word has it that amongst the prisoners are a few foreigners convicted of drug offenses – lucky them. I only was able to see the entrance, but that was more than enough to remind me of why I love my freedom. I was riding along to it, then remembered that I had a couple things with me that might prove incriminating in the proximity of a jail, so I deposited them under a bench for a few minutes while I went exploring. Here’s a shot of a place you don’t want to know any better than this:

Went to the Anjuna Market yesterday. The usual collection of freaks, stoners, shoddy goods, and bad food…all in the shimmering haze of brutal humidity. But you’ve gotta go at least once, and from time to time, just to take in life’s grand parade. Saw a woman there who had gummed up here hair into one large clump…looked like a rhino’s horn.

As I was walking back to my motorbike I felt something on the sole of my left Teva, and upon examination noticed that the sole has a rip. That was a psychic blow, despite my supposed lack of attachment to material goods. My Tevas have been huge assets during this trip, probably the MVPs come to think of it. And now they’re almost done. Something else to go and buy when back in the States…

Went to the chemist (pharmacy) to get some drops for my ear, I’ve had a few flare-ups after my initial earache. While I was waiting in line I noticed a couple of interesting offers to consider:

I rode back to Bean Me Up after sunset. The road home is very bumpy and full of potholes, some of which I couldn’t avoid. After one nasty bump my headlights went out…the highbeams were OK, so was forced to use those. And the turn signals had gone out a few days before, for the second time. You really get what you pay for…but at least I can use these problems as negotiating leverage with the bike rental fellow, Mogambo. Whenever he sees me he tries to collect another tranche of rental money from me…and my approach is always to pre-empt him with a complaint about the condition of the bike (largely caused by my aggressive handling of said machine), and to tell him I’ll pay when the bike is fixed. Then we don’t see each other for a few more days, and the dance begins anew. But I do need the lowbeams and I think I’ll go and see Mogambo right after typing this sentence. So to all of you, blue skies, green lights, and peaceful nights. See you next week.

That night Umang and I rode down to Mackey’s Market, a Saturday night bazaar with the usual tchotchkes, questionable fusion music, even more questionable food, and hippies galore. Bean Me Up had its usual booth, so we hung out with Lisa and drank a few beers. Avoided the vendors and just drank beer in order to stay cool in the heat. It’s surprising how well that strategy works, or seems to work – it might just be that my brain is shutting down and I can’t notice the profuse sweat anymore.

Was walking near the canal when I noticed a fellow wearing, oddly enough, the #34 jersey of Paul Pierce, the best player (and captain) of the Boston Celtics basketball team. While the Celtics stink these days, and have for 20 years, they’re still my team…but I did get insight into their fecklessness when I saw this fellow take a big hit off a chillum. If Paul and the boys lay off the weed, they might actually start winning a few games!

After Mackey’s I dropped Umang off in Vagator, and savored every minute of the ride, which really cooled me off. Motorbike rides and the ocean have been my saviors in times of heat – some days I do little more than alternate between the two. After dropping Umang I still felt energetic, so rode down to Club Cubaba, which is Goa’s most happening club and quite a scene – it’s at the top of Arpora Hill and attracts a glitzy crowd (and me). Befriended a bartender there – his name is Om, appropriately enough – and proceeded to knock back a series of very stiff gin & tonics. Convinced myself that this was necessary in order to prevent malaria – kept drinking. Found myself surrounded by Russians…the blondes were more than pleasant, but unfortunately were accompanied by bull-necked Ivans who radiated anger and danger. Decided to back off and hang out with Om – and eventually fell in with a crowd of derivatives traders from London. The ride home that night was perhaps a bit more adventurous than it should have been, but I’m sitting here writing this so I guess it wasn’t that bad…

On Sunday I rode down to the state capital, Panjim/Panaji, where I had gone with the Aussie Benji a few weeks back. I wanted to see the movie The Departed, as the Inox theater was closing down the next day for the International Film Festival of India (IFFI). Scored an evening ticket, then bopped around and did a few things. Crashed the pool at the Marriott, as Benji and I did before. Very civilized. As I vegetated in the crisp waters I was momentarily startled to hear the soft sounds of Neil Diamond emanating from the restaurant inside…and the hits kept coming, it was a Neil Diamond medley right here in Goa and I hummed along with Cracklin’ Rosie and Song Sung Blue. Felt like a weekend in New Jersey.

After cooling off at the Marriott, rode down to the little peninsula of Dona Paula, which someone had recommended to me. A cool little place…promenade and jetty on one side, and the residence of the Governor of Goa on another. The coastline has some excellent houses which reminded me of Double Bay and Vaucluse in Sydney – believe it or not, India has some ritzy areas too. See for yourself:

Had a bit of time before the movie started, so rode around Panjim a bit. Saw a famous statue that I had read about – it’s a man and a woman, and the former appears to be about to murder the latter. Actually, the hombre, Abbe Faria, was a famous hypnotist, and he’s really about to hypnotize the woman at his feet. Whatever. it’s dramatic - take a look:

Enjoyed the movie quite a bit – Jack Nicholson was his usual wild self. The setting was Boston, and I was reminded of how sordid my hometown really was and is. Boston seems to be hot these days…Mystic River was also set there. Of course, if Hollywood really wants to get down and dirty, all they need to do is ask me about my time at Tufts University…

Left the theater around 9 p.m. Drove into Pananji for some dinner. En route observed an argument between some shopkeepers, mediated by a cop in a van. After a few minutes, the cop just got fed up and drove away. And the gladiators gave up and went back to their miserable shops and dreamt of better days…

Ate dinner at the Texas Restaurant, which was mentioned in my guidebook. Let’s just say that the only evocation of the state of Texas was the ridiculous cowboy hat-and-boot outfits worn by the waiters. The food was almost entirely Indian and Chinese…you’d have thought that some Mexican would have been included, but no. I ate some chow mein, said ‘yee ha,’ and took off. Worth a laugh, though…

Went to yoga class the next morning. I’ve come to grips with the class…it puts me through the paces and is keeping me fit. I sweat like a motherfucker in the heat of Goa, afterwards I stick my clothes into a laundry bag and tie it shut. But I do miss the subtle spiritual aspect my Tokyo teacher Leza brought to her class. Leza is also a poet and often reads from her works during class, and she has a sense of the world and herself which is refreshing. Wise beyond her years, methinks. My Goa teachers are much more basic and grounded in the moment, but I can accept that, at least for now. Soon, when I learn the meaning of life and how to dominate the universe, I will crush them like the worthless ants in my hotel room!

Drove home after yoga class, spaced out, and drove a bit close to a meandering cow…who spooked and nearly charged me. I swerved and managed to get away, but it was a meaningful lesson in staying alert while riding a highly unstable instrument of (my) destruction.

Was reading a Goa guidebook that night and saw an ad for ‘Big Peckers,’ a local chicken restaurant. I imagine they also serve cocktails.

Finally, I’ll wrap this posting up with yet another recitation of random bits encountered during the week:

• Trivia question: the Japanese economy is approximately the size of which of the following economies? (answer provided at end of entry – don’t peek)
A. China
B. China, India, Australia, and SouthEast Asia combined
C. India plus Australia
D. Detroit, London, and Paris combined
E. China plus India
• Finally became a paying member of Classmates.com and Reunion.com, mainly because old classmates had sent me emails therein and I had to pay to read ‘em . Extortion, pure and simple. So I joined each for a year, and read the emails. I do enjoy re-connecting with friends from 20 years ago…it at least allows me to take a step back and consider the many paths through life…and whether my choices have been good ones. Noticed that a few people had searched my profile, and I checked to see who they were. Turns out that my old girlfriend, and junior year prom date, had checked my profile the day before…and she checked it again a few days later. The Japanese have an expression for this sort of stuff: ‘kimoy,’ which roughly translates to ‘creepy’ in English. Gave me the chills…not in a positive way. And her thumbnail (I didn’t want to check her profile, as she’d then know that I did so and perhaps escalate measures) indicated that she’s dating – there’s a red heart next to her name. Not kimoy, but very cheesy. Seems I’m being cyber-stalked. Oh well…I guess I can always call up Jack Nicholson and he’ll take care of matters.
• Got a stash of magazines sent from Boston. The recent New Yorkers have been particularly superb. The October 16 edition had an article on Thomas Paine, who famously penned ‘Common Sense’ and helped underpin the American Revolution. Turned out that Tom had an active post-Revolution life…he journeyed to London, then Paris, where he observed the craziness of the French Revolution. Paine proceeded to write ‘The Rights of Man,’ which built on ‘Common Sense’ and proposed political rights and equality for the common man. That was generally well-received, with the usual dissenters. But he was a bit ahead of his time (and ours?) with ‘The Age of Reason,’ wherein he panned the notion of God-given scriptures such as the Torah and Koran, instead perceiving a nature-based God who spoke to all mankind. That got him in some trouble. According to one biographer, Ben Franklin’s funeral had 20,000 mourners; Paine’s had 6.
• The October 23 New Yorker had an even more interesting piece on water. Certainly worth checking out this article online, it may still be there. Anyway, the factoids were flying fast and furious in there. Put these in your bowl…
- If you take into account the water required to grow a coffee plant, brewing one drop of coffee requires a thousand drops of water. Agriculture/irrigation is by far the biggest water hog.
- Growing a ton of grain to feed cattle requires a thousand tons of water.
- A ton of cattle requires 15,000 tons of water.
- 1,300 gallons of water go into the production of a hamburger; a steak requires double.
- Every day, 100,000 Indians join the country’s middle class, and are eating out relatively often. Chicken and lamb consumption are skyrocketing, with consequences for the water supply. Eep!

Answer to trivia question: B (China, India, Australia, and SouthEast Asia combined), amazingly enough. I must have sort of known that, innately, but when you size up a nation of 126 million against a set of nations comprising something like 2.5 billion people, that’s jaw-dropping. So while China and India are the growth drivers these days, you can probably still make some serious loot in Japan…and on that note, let me go off and check my new Kyocera shares. Watch out for Boston gangsters and cyber-stalkers…

The boys will be back in Goa just before I take off, around December 8th. And I might go see them play in Mumbai if they lock in a gig there. So I have a feeling our paths are just beginning to cross.

• As I wrote last week, I’ve had an earache which has severely limited my time in the water. Went to a specialist in Mapusa, the local city, and he was very helpful. Gave me a few meds, told me to stay out of the ocean (I only cheated a few times), and said I should come back in 5 days. Went back, the problem had cleared up, and I was green-lighted for water fun again. On the ride back to Vagator, I was again waved over by traffic cops, this time on a motorbike. And again, I looked stupidly at them (this was just an act, of course) and sped on. They didn’t follow – I suppose they feed off compliant/dumb tourists who are scared of 3rd-world cops. I’m not – and if they came after me, well, my papers were all in order (including my bogus working papers), and I would have chewed them out for disturbing a ‘busy foreign executive’ trying to make his rounds in Goa. It’s really amazing how much respect white skin can get you out here. I was in the middle of the queue in the doc’s office beforehand, and he called me in first, ahead of a child in some pain and a few elderly folks. I thought about asking them to go first, but decided to just go with the flow…
• Kelvin had accompanied me to Mapusa, largely out of curiosity – Mapusa is an Indian city and those are best kept at arm’s length. But we had fun tromping around doing errands. We turned the corner soon after getting to town and almost ran into an elephant in the street – here he is, not the usual urban critter:

• I’ve been going to yoga class thrice-weekly, and feeling pretty damn good about that. The venue is a well-known local yoga center that recently changed management. Numerous classes on offer, but I’ve not been impressed by the quality of teaching, which seems no better than elsewhere. My two teachers have been British and American, and to be brutal both somewhat bulkier than you’d expect from a yogi. I don’t necessarily require an Indian guru, but was hoping for some real insight and character here. One teacher kicked off her first class by asking us why we practice yoga. I was busy formulating some hocus-pocus about my mat being ‘a small universe/sanctuary of peace’ and my need to ‘look more inward and stop being ruled by external stimuli,’ blah blah blah. But she came out and said she got into yoga to lose weight. Honest, for sure, but a bit of a downer. Why can’t she be as deep as I, who got into yoga to meet chicks??
• Got the quarterly magazine of Kripalu, a very cool yoga center in western Massachusetts. I went on a 3-day retreat there earlier this year and came out feeling like a million (dollars, not rupees). Highly recommended as an antidote to work. Noticed that Kripalu has volunteer programs: 1-3 months for grunt work, 3-12 for higher-order assistance, both with interesting benefits. Is there something in there for me? We’ll see…
• Goa has many, many odd folks. Cleo Odzer wrote a drug-fuelled, madcap book recounting her Goan experiences called ‘Goa Freaks.’ When I first got here, I was bemused - or appalled - by the level of tattooing and piercing all around me. How do I invest in the tattooing biz, I wondered. And I wondered too whether these people and I inhabit the same planet. But hey - they’re on their own trip and I hope it’s a good one. Our paths may not overlap, and that’s perfectly fine, it’s (still) a large and roomy planet. Kripalu has a relevant approach, summed up by the acronym BRFWA - Breathe, Relax, Feel, Watch & Allow. I think that approach is workable everywhere and I need to use it more often…

Changing channels…reader Ari chimes in with more RSS advice - ‘this is the RSS feed anyone can use for most RSS readers.’
http://blogs.bootsnall.com/mbsloney/?feed=rss2

Finally, I noticed that over 1,700 unique readers have checked out my Slog. That’s heartening, and I thank every one of you for taking a look at it. My buddy Rajan - mentioned in an earlier posting - advises me to ramp up my readership and coast along on ad revenues and other cash streams. Well, yeah, but that would require some actual effort. In the meantime, please go ahead and share this site with your friends…no matter their political leanings!

Sayonara for now…time to take a dip in the Big Wet.

Drinks continued to flow for a while after that. It got pretty ugly. Around 3 a.m. the party broke up, and I went to get a cup of chai to boost my faculties and allow me to get home. When I felt reasonably sober, I hopped on my scooter and headed north. Of course, the local police had set up a checkpoint and I was forced to stop. They weren’t checking sobriety, thankfully – just trying to shake down tourists for any vehicular offense they could dream up. I had my US license and International Drivers Permit with me – but my scooter had white plates (for residents) and not yellow plates (for tourist rentals). This is a new system and the police are getting serious baksheesh these days. I don’t recall the entire dialogue, but I did assert that I had the proper paperwork, that I was an old India hand (I had my bogus employment letter with me, and provided details of my various work in India since 1992), and that I would not pay any sort of bribe. The cop made mention of a 500 rupee fine for having white plates, but when I protested he replied that he wasn’t assessing me with this fine, it was just ‘what was on the books.’ If he had insisted on the fine, I would in turn have insisted on getting a written citation – that would probably have dissuaded him. Anyway, I shook his hand and drove off north, feeling pretty good about myself – but also knowing that I needed to switch scooters and get one with proper yellow plates. Did that the next day and now I should be as traffic cop-proof as I can reasonably get. Incidentally, being a traffic copy in countries like India and Burma is amazingly lucrative. Every time they blow their whistle, bribes rain down. People are clamoring for these jobs. Imagine that…being a traffic cop in Western countries is probably one of the crappier jobs out there – simultaneously boring AND dangerous.

That was a Friday night. The next night, took it easy and just went over to Nine Bar in Vagator. This place has thumping techno music every night, and gets a good crowd, but must close down by 10 p.m. due to noise restrictions. Got there around 8 and immediately fell in with a group of waiters from my hotel – I called them Team Bean, from Bean Me Up. The boys were dancing up a storm and obviously letting off a lot of steam. They work very hard, and only have one night off per week, so this was it and they were celebrating. I kept up with them for a while, but now and then drifted off to the bar for refreshments. The next day we all laughed and made fun of each other’s dance techniques.

On Sunday I noticed that a fellow guest – a German musician – was back at Bean Me Up. This fellow, Joshua, was staying at the hotel when I arrived in mid-October, then had been touring in Dubai and Kuala Lumpur, and was now back in Goa for a couple weeks. Quite an interesting fellow – born in Germany, lives most of the year near Florence, and winters in Goa. He’s been coming to Goa for more than 20 years now, and has some incredible stories of the old days, including some time he spent living in a cave near Vagator Beach. He goes by the name of Prem Joshua – ‘Prem’ means ‘love’ in Sanskrit. And his music is damn good – a really nice fusion of Eastern and Western. He’s well-known around the Indian scene and is mentioned in the latest Lonely Planet Goa guidebook. Check out his stuff on iTunes – I like ‘Shiva Moon’ so far.

Joshua knows just about everyone around Goa and I soon fell in with him and his friends, including a bon vivant/conga drum player named Umang, from the city of Pune. I’ve been spending much of my time with this gang – meals together, heading to the beach, tooling around the bars, etc. Despite my usual desire for privacy and solo wanderings, it’s great to have a few friends here to share experiences (and drinks). And these guys really know Goa and its ins and outs – I’m getting quite the education here.

Seeing Joshua in action has also been good for my sense of discipline around writing, exercise, and studying languages. I haven’t made as much progress in these areas as I had hoped. I noticed that Joshua practices his music – sitar and a few other instruments – a few hours every day, religiously, and with joy. I’ve started picking up my own pace as a result of being a few rooms down from him and watching him in action.

Of course, my primary functions are still leisure and exploration. Found a great little Japanese café near Calangute Beach – had a very nice okonomiyaki (Japanese crepe/pancake) the other day. Been swimming a few times every day, across various beaches. Kelvin the Englishman and I have been hanging out and riding around lately. He was first in Goa 20 years ago, and is now here making a film documentary about Joshua – hopefully that will all go well and we can watch it when completed. Kelvin and I went down to the Wednesday Anjuna Market, wandered around till driven mad by the vendors, and had drinks at Looda’s, then the Shore Bar. We observed the craziness of the Indian beaches – vendors, performers, and, of course, cows everywhere. Here’s a couple shots that illustrate what I’m talking about:

And there are also the familiar beach panoramas and sights, praise be to Allah:

I am definitely easily distracted – see above photo for proof. In theory I shouldn’t have too many outside distractions here in Goa, and should be able to sit down for a couple hours every day and write, study Japanese, etc. I’m slowly getting there, but it’s hard…you really need to look inside yourself and try to learn more about who you are. And there’s always the ocean calling to you, it’s far more relaxing to go for a swim than to sit down at a laptop and bang away.

Had to drive to Mapusa city. The primary reason was to visit the post office and send in my absentee ballot for the US elections. That was a serious chore – the city is a traffic nightmare, and I needed to find a couple airmail envelopes, stand in a couple lines, and wait forever. And my ballot may never reach Newton, or at least will arrive late. But that’s OK…Massachusetts races aren’t in question, so my chief desire in undergoing the torture is to feel good about myself, firstly for voting and fulfilling my duties as a citizen (minor positive feeling), secondly for doing anything I can to defeat the Republicans and make a statement (huge positive feeling). So that’s done and I can relax for a couple more years…

Got a great tip from Ray, mentioned above in the political bit. Ray knows music and I’ve long admired his eclectic tastes. He recommended subscribing to the They Might Be Giants podcast, and checking out their music in general. TMBG covers an impressive range of topics – the naming of Istanbul (Not Constantinople), racism, the minimum wage, you name it. I loved the 10/31 podcast, and aim to go back and download all the earlier ones I can find. And I bought the album Flood (1990) on iTunes, it’s excellent and I need to get back on and buy some more. TMBG is bizarre and engaging – check ‘em out.

Last night I drove down to Souza Lobo restaurant in Calangute. Had last been there in 2002 with Jan and Hasmeeth. Souza Lobo is famed for its seafood, in particular its tandoor kingfish. I ordered that, along with a couple cashew feni drinks. The fish was spectacular – one of the best seafood dishes I’ve ever had. And I can recall some memorable meals – the escobar at Lala Rokh in Boston, pan-fried trout at a small hotel near Avignon in southern France, the mixed seafood platter at Orsay in NYC, and a few others. This one was definitely a winner and I’ll be back there soon. The only issue is that awful live music is played there – ‘I Found My Thrills (on Blueberry Hill)’ nearly drove me away screaming. Perhaps I can get Prem Joshua to play there…

Riding home from Souza Lobo on my scooter, wind in my face, belly full, I saw ahead of me something rolling around in the road. Fearing the worst, I approached, and saw that it was simply a large dog playing in the road. It was in pure ecstasy, writhing around joyfully, unaware of traffic until I honked my horn and interrupted its reverie. I was sad to do it…we should all have our moments of unbridled joy, and hopefully often and not rarely. Over and out.

N.B. Brother-in-law Dave figured out how to get this Slog ‘pushed’ using the RSS (Really Simple Syndication) feature. He added the website to his ‘My Yahoo Page’ content. Yahoo has easy instructions to add XML URL’s to your My Yahoo Page, and in addition you can set alerts (email, phone, etc,…) when new content appears. Instructions are found here: http://publisher.yahoo.com/rss_guide/

The view encompasses the whole and genuine meanness of life, though. The harbor is fronted by a sizeable shantytown, and you just shudder to think of the lives of the people under those tin roofs.

That night my friend/old colleague Nikhil and I went out for dinner. He took me to Trishna, a place I’d never been before. It was very good – particularly the crab, which was basically a pile of crab meat lightly spiced that melted in your mouth. Nikhil and I caught up on various gossip, talked about my general waywardness, and shared observations on India and where it’s going. Nikhil’s done a fine job leading the Indian practice of Monitor – revenues are the highest ever and the team seems strong. Nice to get a bit of good news from ‘the old country.’ Was also happy to see that Nikhil has stopped smoking. Given his high levels of stress, and his ‘prosperous’ size, smoking simply isn’t a good idea if he wants to live a long time.

Things were hopping around town that night. Turned out that it was Eid al-Fitr, the end of Ramadan, and Muslims were celebrating. After spending every day for an entire month fasting, wouldn’t you be glad to be over with it too? Not everyone was glad for the Muslims, though. I had two cabbies tell me over the weekend that ‘those people are no good.’ The Hindu-Muslim divide is well-known and there are occasional flare-ups of violence, so I wasn’t shocked to hear this. Still, it was depressing…didn’t give me a sense that universal brotherhood is any closer. India has the second-largest Muslim population in the world, so they’re around to stay in India and it would be best not to hound them into becoming disenfranchised and bitter.

Did some thinking about the US political environment while in Mumbai – and most of the balance of this posting concerns that. The mid-term elections are a week away – finally, a referendum of sorts on the Second Bush Administration. This administration has been so bad, so incompetent, that I’ve been wishing the US had a parliamentary system so that the government could fall at any moment. Perhaps the presidential system has been good for the US – it’s hard to argue with the success of the US in the past 200 years – but nothing good lasts forever.

Here’s hoping the Democrats take both houses of Congress. I’m cautiously optimistic – probably more so about the House of Reps – but worry about the power of incumbency. Those running for another term win something like 95% of the time, usually more due to their ability to send out free mail, get TV exposure, etc. than due to their stellar performance. But sometimes the worm turns, and (allow me to mix my metaphors) a bit of judo can be effective. This is probably a very good year to paint the incumbent Congress as incompetent and throw the bums out.

Of course, the ultimate goal remains: US regime change. Unfortunately, the worst bums have two years to go. The best we can hope is to cripple them (further) politically and prevent any more fuckups. At this point, that actually sounds pretty good and I’ll be glad to take it.

The ‘war on terror’ (I refuse to capitalize it) has been an utter joke and disaster – except as a marketing tool for the Bush Administration, which has callowly used it to scare US voters. Unfortunately for all of us, that re-election strategy worked, whereas the ‘war’ has not. All it’s done, as far as I can tell, is to ramp up recruitment for the bad guys, and perhaps to push out the timing of the next 9-11-like event. Once we’re out of Iraq, how will we prevent all hell from breaking loose?

The thing that really gets me is this: for decades, militant Arabs/Muslims have been trying to connect all the dots in the Middle East. Palestinians blame their troubles on Israel – well, OK, that argument can be made. But you never saw Saddam Hussein talking about Israel or going to the mosque until it became apparent that W’s daddy was going to kick his ass. Then he donned the khaffiyeh and starting quoting Muhammed. And insurgents in Syria, Egypt et al loved to blame Israel for their internal issues – although all of these countries have ethnic and political tensions that are uniquely theirs. I agree that you need to go back in time and understand the history that created these unstable states – the Ottoman occupation for centuries, the fall of that empire, the British and French mandates, the jury-rigged borders created upon independence – but I’d argue that the distinct issues facing each country outweigh the common ones. Saddam Hussein doesn’t get to invade Kuwait and threaten Saudi Arabia, and say that Israel’s occupation of Palestine made him do it.

The same goes for all of the other nations of the Middle East. Lebanon: one-third Christian, one-third Sunni, one-third Shiite – ‘nuff said. Syria: run by a nut-case family. Saudi Arabia: basically, an oil company with incompetent inbred management masquerading as a nation-state. Egypt: almost no tradition of democracy, and huge corruption. Jordan: who cares? I could go on, but my point is that these are essentially localized challenges and that any common themes are secondary. Of course, fundamentalists/militants/terrorists would dearly love to create a rallying point for all Muslims and start a cultural war, so they’ve played the Israel/racist card for decades, with some but limited impact.

Now, the Bush Administration has gone and done their job for them. The ‘war on terror’ looks to the average Muslim like a Christian crusade of the 21st century. Bush’s foolish statements (‘crusade,’ ‘Islamo-fascism’) have played into al-Qaeda’s hands; his decisions have been more damaging. Even educated Muslims in allied Arab nations like Jordan and Egypt think the US is fighting a war against Muslims and that Iran is probably next. We did a good thing in kicking the Taliban and al-Qaeda out of Afghanistan. These scumbags need a country in which to breed, so taking away Afghanistan was helpful. But now we’re in the process of handing over Iraq, which, despite its heinous pre-war nature, had nothing to do with al-Qaeda and in fact was hostile to it. Where this is all going, who knows? Certainly not the Bush Administration. But they’ll be out of office by the time the worst shit hits the fan.

As for the upcoming election…I’m just sitting here in Goa waiting for the Rove November Surprise. What cat will Rove pull out of the bag this time? And where the hell is the latest installment of ‘As Osama Turns’? That video he sent out just before the 2004 presidential election was certainly not randomly timed…and probably tipped the election in favor of W. I think that Bin Laden values Bush…who played right into his hands and is utterly predictable. Bin Laden probably sees Bush as a pig-headed ideologue in the vein of the old Soviet commissars he helped defeat in Afghanistan back in the day. So the next week could bring virtually anything – might need to spend some time checking out the news online.

And in a week’s time, let’s keep our fingers crossed for an end (or gradual choking off) of the current government by, for, and of the incurably stupid. It’s enough to make me miss Richard Nixon…and even old man Bush. At least I’ll admit I’m wrong – often. I used to think old Bush was one of the worst Presidents ever, till W came along. Fuck these assholes for screwing up the country, and the world. I’d be even more despondent if we hadn’t been through worse in the past - i.e., WW2, the Civil War, and the Lakers’ NBA triumphs. And at least the current shit is making me aware of nascent patriotic instincts that I thought I never had…

Finally - let’s hope we choose the least bad option regarding Iraq. We need to get out of there soon – our presence is causing much of the tension. I think there will be a civil war no matter what we do – so let’s just get out of there, let them duke it out, and do what we can with money and other incentives to help the place become ‘normal.’ Which may mean splitting it up into 2-3 pieces. We have to stop throwing good money after bad – and more importantly, live Americans after dead ones.

There – I said my piece. Any reactions, let’s hear ‘em. To date I’ve not heard a single decent idea on what to do with Iraq (or Iran), so I’m desperate to hear from my more intelligent peers/superiors. Chime in and win huge cash prizes!

Got back to Goa yesterday. Awesome to slide back into the ocean at Anjuna Beach, while the Shore Bar was cooking me up some garlic prawns. You can get regular sized, king or tiger prawns. The tigers are the size of your fist – and a bit chewy for my tastes. I usually go with the kings – they’re 2-3 mouthfuls and precisely the right texture. The Chinese are very into texture when it comes to food – they like all sorts of chewy and slimy foodstuffs – I’m much less adventurous, but I suppose all of us have our favorite patterns in life.

While I was tumbling around in the surf, I noticed a pretty girl wading in. But just a bit – she seemed either scared of the water or loath to get her clothes wet. Which I didn’t find attractive in the least – if she had dove right in, and come up with a laugh, I probably would have swam over and given her a big French kiss. Maybe. And later that night, at the Nine Bar, I saw a girl dancing to the techno beats with abandon – just sliding her body around, arms gliding through the air, hair swinging back and forth to the rhythm. Now that was more like it. She stood out from the dozens of others on the floor. And that, dear reader, is what I love about life.