Wanderlust Heaven!

Prem Joshua returned to Goa last week. His ‘homecoming’ is an annual rite in Goa, not officially recognized as such, but certainly noted by his many friends and fans. Josh came by Bean Me Up for lunch the other day, and we had a long chat. He’s been busy with gigs and also recording a live album – which is apparently incredibly hard to get just right. He seems keen to relax a bit on Goa, although he’s off again very soon for gigs in Dubai and elsewhere. We both return to Goa on December 4th. I need to bug him about giving me guitar lessons…

Before I took off for Vietnam, we went for dinner at the beloved Souza Lobo, home of the world’s finest tandoor kingfish. And the Goan masala prawns ain’t bad neither. We met up with Chintan, one of Josh’s bandmates, and a few others. Six of us, three kingfish – just right. Souza Lobo gets mobbed during the peak season so we need to get in a few visits in coming weeks, then stay away while the great unwashed from Europe descends on Goa.

I’ve been tinkering with my new laptop ever since I got it. What a lot of work…first, setting it up, then transferring all the files over, and finally a huge amount of tweaking/optimizing. And I was moving from Windows XP to Vista –that’s not a seamless process. All the tracks in my iTunes Library were duplicated…other third-party software got confused…key patches weren’t yet available…you name it. I’ve steadily been fixing problems, and have finally reached the promised land. One key piece of freeware that helped quite a bit was Advanced WindowsCare 2 (Personal). This nifty little application clears up registry errors (I didn’t even know what a registry was until recently – one benefit of digging into your computer is that you learn a hell of a lot), provides another layer of anti-spyware protection, and optimizes system performance. I was a little nervous about turning sensitive areas of my computer over to this program, but I crossed my fingers and let it resolve all the ‘problems’ it found, and it worked brilliantly. It even lets you remove programs from your Startup menu – whereas Windows makes this nearly impossible. Do Mac users have to deal with all this crap??

It was a full moon the other night. That seems to have a major effect on people in Goa, at least the more spiritual amongst us. Given the lack of night lighting in Goa, you do really see how much light the full moon provides…you can even wander around the beaches, which are slightly lit and have a weird aura. Just don’t walk into any bulls. I had dinner at BMU and talked with Lisa. Wasn’t planning on going out, but she was energized by the full moon and brought another guest and I over to Chapora, an isolated little town nearby that still seems stuck in the 60s. What a late-night freakshow on the streets! Every third person was lighting up a chillum; Lisa knew quite a few folks there, she’s moved on in life but most of the Chaporans haven’t. Was like an anthropological experiment for me.

After that, we went to Primrose to listen to some music. This place is exceedingly dodgy, but diverting for an hour or two. Ran into a few BMU staffers, who were playing pool and smoking cigarettes. After that our full moon-inspired energy ran out and we headed home to rest.

I had nothing planned the next day, so drove up to the northern beaches of Mandrem and Asvem. I hadn’t spent much time at these beaches, they’re a bit obscure but all the better. I first parked above Mandrem and just walked for a long while…eventually I came to Arambol, which was closer than I had imagined. In fact, I had told myself I wouldn’t go to Arambol, I’d concentrate today on Mandrem and Asvem, but my geography is a bit off and I came to learn that you can walk the entire stretch from Morjim in the south to Arambol in the north – not a modest initiative, but doable. I will do that walk one day, perhaps when my friends Ken and Carmen come for the Xmas holiday. As it was, my Mandrem-Arambol walk was great – superb views, calming on the mind and body.

After that, drove to Asvem – not easy to find, despite the obvious inclination to head west from road to water. There are some side streets you must take to get to Asvem, and I figured these out this time. Once at Asvem, I was impressed by the beauty of the beach there – uncrowded, dramatically rocky in certain spots, and supremely peaceful. Not sure if that will be the case in December/January, but for now it’s a great little secret and I mean to return soon. Took another long walk at Asvem – I believe I approached Mandrem to the north before calling it a day.

I’ve been good about exercising lately, but after my two long beach walks I didn’t feel like running. And when I came back to BMU, I learned there was a party at Curly’s again that night. Curly’s does seem to be going off a lot these days. First went to Nine Bar – half of the BMU staff was there, dancing away – they have Saturdays off. Then drove over to Anjuna Beach for the Curly’s bash – had to walk a ways on the beach, and by that hour it was high tide and I got pretty wet en route. No big deal – once at Curly’s, I was probably over-dressed and cleaner than most. Stayed there for an hour or so…for some reason I’m not into super-late nights recently. I think it’s because I’ve nearly seen it all and need a special reason to stick it out till the wee hours…

Got back around 1 a.m. Saw that I got an SMS from Deccan Air, the carrier I’d take that afternoon up to Mumbai. Their flight would be delayed by 45 minutes – was glad they SMSed me. The cheapo Thai carriers should learn to do this – my Nok Air misadventure a few weeks ago was annoying. I have to say that in some ways Indian services impresses, particularly with regards to tech – I can easily get email on my Treo, people text each other often, etc. But when a process is required – i.e., getting a Vietnam visa – it gets ugly. You just can’t do more than 2-3 things/day here…whereas in the West you can get many things done every day (not that you always feel in the mood).

Headed to Mumbai on Sunday afternoon. Was happy my flight was late, because I was facing a long layover in Mumbai, and the international airport is still a real dump. Anyway, I only had to spend 3 hours there, and I worked my way through a couple New Yorkers to pass the time. One edition had an article on Bobby Egan, who owns a BBQ joint in New Jersey and who, bizarrely enough, is a key unofficial conduit for North Korean contacts with the U.S. He’s been to Pyongyang several times and is buddies with key NKor officials there and in the U.S. Not a polished fellow, but what you see is what you get, and somehow he’s managed to befriend some pretty secretive people. These sorts of articles are why I read The New Yorker…

There was another article about Wehrner von Braun, the German space scientist who was captured by the U.S. at the end of the war and later put in charge of our space program. His story is fairly well-known, but I learned that Voyager One, which was launched decades ago and is now something like 10 billion miles from Earth, has pre-recorded greetings to any aliens who might cross its path. The voice of Earth? Kurt Waldheim, U.N. Sec-Gen at the time. Wonderful – an ex-Nazi (is there such a thing?) representing the human race. There is an incredible irony to that one…

The back cover of one of the New Yorkers was black, and some of the ink rubbed off on my white t-shirt. Torture. I went into the bathroom to clean it off, and that worked OK, except that I was now covered in water. The bathroom attendant gave me a hand towel to dry off. Frequent readers will know of my general detestation of bathroom attendants…but this guy was all right. I thanked him, but said I unfortunately had no rupees for a tip. He smiled and told me no problem and that I was ‘most welcome in India’. Wow – that was a record-setting statement for an untipped bathroom attendant. If we can clone this one, I might change my general impression of the profession…

Flew on to Kuala Lumpur at midnight. I love these cheapie air tix. Landed at 7:30 a.m., facing a severe layover in KL, and didn’t feel like going into town – I’d already been there many times and didn’t feel like any more sight-seeing. Had a coffee…checked email…then decided to find the airport transit hotel and sleep for a few hours. Found the hotel – they had a room for 140 ringgit (approx. US$40-45) for 6 hours. I only needed 4 hours, but it was the same price so I took it. I absolutely love these places – no need to leave the hotel (or collect your bag, if you’ve checked it to your final destination). Clean room, hot shower, aircon, TV, and bed. I showered, then lay down and slept for 3 hours. Woke up without an alarm, fully refreshed, showered again, and went to my gate. When I was at Monitor, I often stayed at the Singapore (Changi) Airport Hotel after a red-eye from Japan or Oz. These places are the true antidote to a red-eye – bless them.

Connected to my Saigon flight. Got into Ton Son Nhut Airport at 3:30 p.m. So quiet – as was KL Airport. Quite a change from Mumbai, Bangkok, etc. This was my first flight into Vietnam – realized that as I was pondering the quietude of the airport. Ton Son Nhut was once one of the world’s busiest airports, back during the war. Now it’s mellow, there’s a new international terminal which is very nice. Saigon is still a bit off the beaten path, but that’s changing and I think it won’t be long before the place is mobbed.

Met up with Phuong that night. Had a very late dinner, as she had to work till 10 p.m. No problem. She liked the silk sari I’d bought for her in Goa – although it was a challenge to remember how it’s precisely worn. She looked tantalizing wrapped up in it….I was getting all sorts of ideas.

I had booked a room at the Sheraton Saigon, a newish five-star right in the cool Dong Khoi area. It’s right near the Caravelle, Continental, and Park Hyatt. Problem – they want to see a marriage certificate before allowing a Vietnamese woman to accompany a foreign man upstairs. Ugh. I am not above forging documents every now and then, but lack a copy of this one – so we had to resort to subterfuge to get her upstairs. I won’t detail the operation here, I’d prefer to keep it a secret. But we got upstairs – mission accomplished.

Slept very late the next morning – something I haven’t done in ages. I tend to get up with the sun in Goa, or soon thereafter. I guess big-city life is more tiring (and less healthy) and my body responds accordingly. Phuong went off to teach yoga…I had kaiten-zushi (conveyor belt sushi) for lunch…we met again at the Sheraton to go swimming. Again, some interference from security – how annoying. I should check out the local laws on this – they appear to echo Laos’. I can see how they want to avoid becoming the next Thailand…and I can only imagine the sorts of freaks the hotels must deal with. Still – they should be less heavy-handed. Security guard at the Sheraton Saigon – that’s not a job any of us would want. What would you do if a well-dressed foreigner and a similarly decked-out Vietnamese of the opposite sex walked up to the elevator? It would be pretty fucking hard for a guard to avoid offending said couple…

Anyway, I’m moving to a smaller, more relaxed hotel in a few days – I had planned that anyway, and am now doubly happy about making the move. Less luxury, but less aggravation as well – besides the ridiculous level of security, the Sheraton charges US$18/day for Internet access; I’m not sure I’ve ever seen higher. The next hotel charges nothing. People sometimes ask me if I miss staying in five-star establishments – and I always answer no. The only reason I chose the Sheraton here is to give Phuong a treat – and the payback is that I have to lie and sneak her up to my room. Paradox, thy name is Starwood…

Was walking around the Pham Ngu Lao area late the other night. The cyclo (rickshaw) drivers were asleep in their cyclos…one guy had literally tied his feet to a lamp-post to remain horizontal. It was absolutely classic – wish I had had my camera on me then.

Had learned from an old client in Bangkok that another ex-client was now head of a pharma company’s subsidiary in Vietnam. This ex-client and I had worked on a great project in Sydney back in 2000, and we hadn’t seen each other since then. I emailed her, and we had a drink last night. Was great to catch up with her – she’s done very well in the past few years. And she gave me some helpful insight on Vietnam – for instance, the real estate sector has been growing like mad, but it may be because government officials are cadging from the national bank and using those funds for development/purchases. And the bourse (stockmarket) has also been rising…but the scale is such that until recently, if you bought US$10,000 of a major stock, you’d hike it one point yourself. Hmmm…that creates some interesting system-gaming opportunities. India was in a similar situation back in ’92, when I was there for the first time…and the deck of cards eventually collapsed, with huge pain all round. I hope Vietnam isn’t headed for the same shoals…

Noticed on my Treo Calendar that today, Thursday November 29, is the day when my current American Airlines round-the-world ticket runs out. Today I was scheduled to fly from Madrid to New York to Boston. When I set up the RTW ticket in January of this year, that was as far out as I was allowed to book – the understanding was that I’d just push everything out as time passed. But you’ll recall that I blew off my Bangkok-Mumbai ticket to stay longer in Indochina, and a conversation with Alan and Janine helped me re-think my general travel approach; consequently, I decided to stop the RTW way of travel and just move to a point-to-point plan. I wasted what was left of my AA ticket…but having the total freedom to go where I want, when I want, is worth that cost. How can you really know what you want 9 months in advance, or even 3? I can afford to spend the extra money on flights, and will just try to use frequent-flyer miles when possible.

Saigon, Saigon. My third visit in two months – who would have guessed I’d spend so much time here? I recall my initial 3-day visit – frantic non-stop sight-seeing as my visa ran out. Now I’ve returned for two separate one-week stints, and more may be in the cards. So far things with Phuong are good…she’s a sweet woman and I have fun with her. Communications aren’t always easy, but we make an effort. My problem is that I’ve never done well with long-distance relationships…and these days, I have so many places I want to visit, it’s a juggling act even without Saigon being in the mix. I suppose it all comes back to prioritization, yet another of my many weaknesses. Even at the age of 40, I’ve got a lot to learn. But it’s all good and helps to get me out of bed every morning (or afternoon).

Just noticed that my slog, in its totality, is nearly at 500 pages in the Word document in which I write it. I’ll need to come up with something momentous to mark the 500-page watershed – never before has so much been written but so little said, or something Churchillian like that. Submissions and suggestions welcomed. Over and out.

Not long after polishing off last week’s entry, I heard about a beach party at the infamous Curly’s, on Anjuna Beach. I was at Bean Me Up, about to have dinner, when Lisa told me about the party. And it was a very slow night at BMU, so she let a few staff take off and join the party. I was torn…had yoga the next morning, but did feel like joining the lads and blowing off some steam. The steam arose largely from my being the dunce of the yoga class…while it’s not a competitive session, I do feel intensely self-conscious and inadequate when standing or sitting next to some of my class’s flexibabes, who are pretzel-like in their poses. My solution? Sulk for a while, then drink heavily. So far, it’s kept me sane…

Curly’s was well into it by the time I got there. Parked relatively far away, to avoid late-night traffic jams. It was very crowded…DJ was spinning and the dance floor was heaving with all the flotsam and jetsam of Goa. A seemingly pregnant woman (I hope not, but…) was prancing around next to a Jesus-like figure sporting only a towel…and next to him was a woman wearing a large arm cast. Nice – I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The air was redolent with all manner of resins and sweat. Tried to locate the BMU crew, lead by headwaiter Bini, but couldn’t see ‘em. Finally, at a break in the action, I simply yelled out ‘Bini!’ and sure enough, he came right up and high-fived me. I was back amongst familiar faces.

With Bini was Umesh the bartender and Surendra the dishwasher. They’ve all been at BMU for some time, I knew them all from last season. All good guys. Surendra in particular is an absolute riot…he speaks about 5 words of English, yet now wants to be called ‘Jack.’ Not too sure why, but he likes that name and I think it’s hilarious. Now, whenever I see him at BMU, I yell ‘Jack!’ and he grins widely. It’s one form of connecting, I suppose…

Left there after a couple hours, and rode home. It was a cold evening, the weather continues to be mild here. Lisa rang me up and told me she left a blanket outside my room – nice of her. There is a personal touch here at BMU which is generally lacking in other establishments. Might be due to my friendship with Lisa and Richard, but it’s beyond that – they run a tight yet friendly ship and I think hospitality comes naturally to them. It sure doesn’t to me.

Went to yoga class the next morning. Good class, but my hamstrings are tight as hell, probably from running, and I’m caught in a vicious cycle wherein I try to stretch them out in yoga class, then they’re sore and it’s difficult to go running at night…but I try to do so anyway, and that doesn’t help me in yoga class the next day. I had to take a day off from running (and yoga class, a different day) to let my body calm down and return to center.

Gaby, our yoga instructor, is a cool Aussie who’s been in Goa forever. She and Lisa know each other well – Lisa turned me on to Gaby, yet another good recommendation from Lisa. I continue to wonder what sort of yoga is best for me, given my ‘hot nature’ (in ayurvedic terms I am a ‘pitta-dosha,’ my constitution is fiery). Ashtanga yoga, what I’m practicing now with Gaby et al, is demanding and intense, and might be too much for my joints, which have been conditioned by years of running. A more gentle/restorative yoga might be better for me, but for the next few weeks I’ll stick with Ashtanga and see how I feel. I did like Gaby’s preamble to class the other day – she advised us to clean our bowels and noses before class, as it’s difficult to practice with a full lower intenstine and a clogged nose. I tend to start my days doing so…and perhaps this is one area in which I’m near or at the head of our class!!

Gaby told us there’s no class one full moon days. I have yet to ask her why, but I think it’s kind of cool regardless. Maybe she’s a witch and has some dark arts to conduct those nights?

Speaking of hidden talents, one of my yoga classmates is apparently the Goan state boxing champ (female division). I’m not that surprised, come to think of it – we practice (for now) in a boxing studio, and this chick looks tough. She has feet that look (tragically) like mine, and fairly hairy legs. I wouldn’t have messed with her before, and now won’t for sure.

Next week classes shift to a custom-built shala (studio) right on Vagator Beach. Of course, I’ll be in Vietnam next week. Which is perfectly OK…I’ll bring my mat to Saigon, and anyway my lady friend there is a yoga teacher so she can keep me honest.

My new resistance cord came in the mail. It’s made by Gaiam, a ‘lifestyle company,’ whatever that means. McDonald’s is a lifestyle company too, no? Anyway…my new cord is better than my old one, which had moving parts and required assembly. The new one is fully integrated and is ready to use straight out of the box. Now I can get my upper body muscles back in shape…my old cord broke a few weeks ago, and I’ve missed the damned thing.

Finally got my Vietnam visa. Maria at Connexions (the travel agent) didn’t call me once with a status update, so I went by there every other day for 2 weeks till it was concluded. At one point I thought, perhaps I won’t go by and she’ll eventually call me. But after 3 days, no call, so I reverted to form. Lisa at BMU told me that Maria (and other Goans in the service biz) won’t spend the 1 rupee for the local call. Incredible. In India you’d best be prepared to slog through the simplest of tasks. I miss Laos and Cambodia, where you can almost get a visa by clapping your hands 3 times. Might be a business opportunity in consolidating the visa application process online, as it’s done for Oz.

I told Maria that I had been concerned I wouldn’t get the visa. She said she had also been worried. Oh, yeah? Maria displaying concern is akin to the Buddha’s visage whilst meditating – you could have fooled me. Anyway, she did come through, albeit for the price of US$130 or so. It’s just money…

Along with the resistance cord, my mail drop included a few letters. One was from the US Internal Revenue Service, a much-feared beast. Apparently on a recent submission I hadn’t signed a form – the Foreign Bank Report form. So I had to sign the new letter and send that back to the States. Hopefully it will get there…the Indian post office doesn’t have the best rep. I also received a small package from my healthcare insurer, Blue Cross, informing me that my rates will rise 20% next month and thereafter. Torture. That prompted me to call Blue Cross and switch to a cheaper plan. Making the call was not fun, given that payphones here won’t connect to US toll-free #s, necessitating a Skype call which may or may not be of decent quality. My call was OK, but I had to speak with 3 different people to 1) set up a new policy and 2) junk my old one. Is there any vendor out there which understands that people (even me) are busy and prefer to have a single point of contact?

Further torture – they insist on sending snail mail, so my welcome package and first bill will come to Newton, whereupon my family will need to FedEx it quickly to me in Goa, so that I can somehow take care of the first bill in time. That might be tricky…I really need to switch to auto-withdrawal as I had it with my old policy. Dealing with these sorts of things from abroad is not fun.

It’s Thanksgiving time in the States, which means that waistlines expand (even further) and hopefully the wallets will come out. The stock market has crapped out in the past couple months and it looks to be a rocky ride. Many thanks to Ameriquest and other mortgage loan pushers who aggressively solicited and approved people with shitty credit and low incomes and put them in houses they couldn’t afford. Ameriquest is now entering Chapter 11 (or 7), I believe – good. Thanks also to those feeble-minded consumers who fell for it, or instigated their own downfall. I really hate to read the newspapers over here and see Hugo Chavez and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad hanging out and crowing over the weakening US economy (and socio-political position) and the falling dollar. That absolutely gives me the shits. I can live with a stock market downturn…I have more of a problem with global psychos holding forth on new world orders. I guess I am patriotic after all.

Am getting ready to go to Saigon on Sunday. Bought the woman a silk sari at Anjuna Market – that should be well-received. Visa is in hand…as are loads of magazines, useful because I have serious layovers on both ends of my trip. Will be gone 8-9 days in all, including a night in Mumbai. Ugh. Finding a decent hotel room there might be a task equal to obtaining a Vietnamese visa in India. Just when you think you’ve got it made, there’s always something waiting round the corner. At least Saigon should be fun, and errand-free. Will I have to eat my words? Wait till next week to find out!

Over and out – the Gentle Dragon.

Picasso is a Communist; neither am I.
-Salvador Dali

Had a reasonably calm week. Continued to settle in at Bean Me Up and get various routines (running, yoga, meals) in order. Perhaps the iconic moment of the week occurred when sitting with BMU owner Lisa at dinner; head waiter Bini (real name: Vinod) wandered by, a strange light emanating from the front of his jeans. I wondered just what young Bini was packing…did I need one of those? But Lisa told me it was just Bini’s new lighter, which, when lit, activated a small light that stayed on for a minute or two. Bini does fancy himself a bit of a stud; we’ll have to see whether his ‘pants on fire’ approach gets him anywhere this winter.

The weather has gotten downright perfect – the huge storm last week must have blown the hot air straight out of the state of Goa. Nights have been cool and excellent for sleeping, daytime has been warm but not insidiously so. Not that I don’t sweat like a monkey while working out – my gym has copious aircon and I use it without a moment’s hesitation. But yoga class does present a challenge…it’s in the open air in Chapora village and the only thing I can do is towel off every few minutes.

Lisa told me about Gabriella, an Aussie yogi who offers classes nearby. I was not eager to go back to Purple Valley/Brahmani Yoga, where I took a few classes last year; I just didn’t find the teaching particularly enlightening, and the classes were packed and factory-like. So, in my usual fashion, I did nothing for a couple weeks, then Lisa let me in on Gaby’s classes. I went one morning, and found it compelling. It’s Ashtanga Yoga, which comprises a fixed set of asanas (poses). I’ve done more Vinyasa Flow Yoga in the past, but the latter comes from the former, so it’s not that hard to transition. But I’m supposed to go every morning, for 1.5-2 hours, and that’s the hard part. I meant to go back for day two, but overslept…probably because after day one, I was so tired I took a 2-hour nap, then couldn’t sleep at night. Not the right sort of circle to enter. Managed to get back on track the next day, but again dozed off in the afternoon. That’s today, so we’ll see if I can sleep tonight, and make tomorrow’s class. Does the Gentle Dragon have the requisite willpower to adhere to a demanding schedule? Attending class of any sort does seem to awaken a resistance mechanism deep in me…

I check email at a little Internet café near BMU. I have a wireless account there, and just sit on the couch there and blast away. A few days ago I got up and stretched out my arms, which were sore from lots of exercise and lots of sleeping in odd positions. The young clerk yelled to me – I pulled my arms down and looked over at him. I followed his eyes up toward the ceiling, where the ceiling fan was twirling around at high speed. Oops. That was nearly my final typing session without prostheses. Later, when owner Sagar entered the store, I told him his shop was a massive hazard and that he needed to move the fan to a wall and cover it up. He seemed to get it. The whole episode reminded me of my early days in Bombay in 1992. I moved into an apartment building whose elevator featured a small uncovered ceiling fan, one that a teenager could easily reach up and touch. I wrote a short story about those early days and that observation; my point was that India was a place where you were rarely protected from the consequences of your most innocent of actions and acts of exploration. Apparently it remains so today.

Found a website called scanR.com. This site allows you to take a photo of a document, email it to the site, and then they give you access to a related site where you can view/download your document in various formats – JPEG, PDF, etc. Took less than a minute. The quality of the ‘scanned’ document is quite good – obviously, the greater the photo’s megapixels, the higher the chance of a legible doc. Tried it with an article about ‘Hebonics,’ which I’ve mentioned before in this blog. Came out pretty well. I saved the PDF version, let me know if you’re interested in seeing it.

Went to the first Ingo’s Saturday Night Bazaar. This is a huge market where nearly every local (and far-off) vendor – clothes, food, music, etc. – shows up and hordes of tourists descend and spend. Bean Me Up had a booth, so hung out a bit there. Had a few drinks with Lisa and Richard. At one point I spotted a cute young woman with an impressively large chest – managed to strike up a conversation while we both browsed CDs. I think she’s around for a few weeks, at least, and am very much hoping she’ll show up on the beach in something skimpy…

Watched a DVD I’ve been carrying around for a while. It’s by Ray & Charles Eames, an avante-garde movie-making couple who are both deceased. The feature movie on the DVD is ‘Powers of Ten,’ a fascinating short piece in which the camera first shows a couple lying on a picnic blanket in Grant Park, Chicago, at a distance of 1 meter, then every 10 seconds takes the camera distance a power of ten farther – i.e., at 10 seconds it’s 10 meters away, at 20 seconds 100 meters, etc. It’s not that long before you’re in space and the Earth is a speck, then gone, then you’re beyond the Milky Way. Obviously some/much of the camera work is mocked-up, but it’s still a cool depiction of how exponential mathematics works and how it relates to our wild universe.

Was riding my motorbike the other day in Vagator. Saw a small police van and started turning to avoid it, but no use – they had spotted me. In Goa it’s usually a good idea to play dumb and pretend you didn’t see/hear the traffic cops, they’re notorious for trying to get foreigners to pay ‘fines.’ When I’m driving along and they’re parked at roadside, I never stop – but this time I couldn’t worm out of it. They motioned me over, with that condescending Asian finger wiggle (hand facing down) motion – I really hate that. Asked for my paperwork – I was fully prepared, having not only procured all the necessary licenses and vehicle stuff, but also having made copies of the licenses so that the cops couldn’t try to hold onto them and make me pay to get ‘em back. They looked everything over – but were powerless to screw me. I rode off and cackled. This time, the good guys win…

Have been pretty good about going to the gym every afternoon, even when I have yoga in the morning. Goa’s the place for me to get myself in shape, although not everyone comes here for that sort of experience. Far from it. Now that I’m 40, though, I need to stay fit and that, along with writing, is my focus these days. The gym is a great place – not many workout machines, but plenty of floor space. They keep the floors spotless – there’s an Indian woman who sweeps the place out all the time. But, in true Indian style, the things which are harder to clean rarely get cleaned. The mats for floor exercises are not pleasantly aromatic, shall we say…I tried to use one and nearly passed out from the fumes. I’ll just bring my own yoga mat from now on.

Got an email from a Larry in Atlanta. He was reviewing the Offroad Vietnam website and saw my trip report, and had a few more questions. All of which had already been covered in my blog entry, which is also found on the site. Anyway, he apparently didn’t see that, so I sent it to him. He enjoyed it, and looks keen to do a moto trip in northern Vietnam next year. Larry’s from Scituate, Mass. originally, for what that’s worth…

Rode over to the nearby small city of Mapusa to get some cash from an ATM there. Stopped for a coffee – my waiter was named Shiva. Random. Got back on the bike to ride off, rode by a fellow wearing a t-shirt that read ‘Feel My Love.’ Hmmm. It was time to get out of that town, the sun was setting…

Have been visiting the travel agent frequently to ensure that I get my Vietnam visa. Now it seems OK, but the agent is lazy (typical Goan trait) and never calls me with updates, I always have to go there to get the status report. Next time I’m definitely stopping in Bangkok for the fucking visa – it will be cheaper and faster, and Bangkok is always a fun place for a night.

Lisa told me that a party was happening last night at Primrose, a nearby dive bar. Went at midnight…they have an indoors music/dance/trance room to keep the noise down. Undoubtedly the cops knew about it, there were about 200 motorbikes parked outside. But it’s early in the season, the noise was minimal, and I imagine bribes were paid. Stayed for an hour or so, it was good fun, but had yoga class next morning so behaved myself and hit the sack at 1:30. I do want to see if I can make a decent go of the yoga class, at least for a month or so.

Am writing a letter to Outside Magazine – I’m a longtime reader/subscriber and want to see if they’d be interested in my recent Burma and Philippines stories. Let’s see how they respond…

At lunch today I sat fascinated for an hour, watching Lisa’s white cat do its thing. It stalked a butterfly and at one point leaped up on a table to go for it, to no avail. It constantly swiveled its little ears to pick up sounds – I wish I could do the same. And when it wasn’t hunting, it rolled around on the floor and enticed guests to rub its belly and head. Doesn’t seem like a bad way to spend the day, all in all.

That’s about it for this week. A final word from our sponsor:

Over and out.

My first night back in Goa I was riding my rented motorbike and was almost run off the road by a Domino’s Pizza deliverman, also on bike. I guess Goa’s starting to resemble the rest of the (developed) world…

Moved rooms at Bean Me Up, from the African Room to the Moon Room. Better bed…somewhat nicer furnishings…and a change of pace. That might just do it for me for the rest of the winter, all my stuff is now out of the backpack and airing out – don’t feel like doing any packing for a while.

Went swimming on Little Vagator Beach. True to its name, this beach is small and it’s rocky on either side, so the actual swimming area is proscribed. While in the water I watched a few cows roaming around on the beach, eating trash. Must be Goa’s recycling scheme – low-cost, anyway. Another guy was swimming near me, introduced himself as ‘Lucky,’ a Nepali working at the nearby Nine Bar. Nice enough fellow – seemed to be a bit deaf, just like everyone else who works at Nine Bar, which cranks out deafening house music every night. Lucky offered to sell – no, give – me some hash which he claimed to have but not want. I smiled and side-stepped the offer…it’s not a great idea to be conducting illegal deals on a public beach. Besides, you all know my hands are far too clean for that…

Bean Me Up’s excellent restaurant wasn’t open yet – it has a Grand Opening every year on Halloween, appropriately enough – so I had to scout around for dinner. Went to China Town, a real dump that’s largely frequented by riff-raff from nearby Chapora, a settlement that is bucolic enough but whose (foreign) inhabitants make Vagator’s look like flashpackers (which they often are). My chicken momos and chow mein were barely edible…tasted like the cook had dropped a few cigarette ashes in the mix. Ugh. And while waiting (without bated breath) for my grub, I watched the middle-aged Italian guy at the next table barking at the restaurant’s dog. I vowed never to return to this place, at least not without going to see Lucky the Nepali first…

Next day, went to the weekly Anjuna Market, held every Wednesday. Talk about a zoo…you’ve probably never seen such a crush of humanity. It’s a huge spread, but most of the vendors are selling the same crap: cheapo shirts (you’ve seen my wardrobe…), hospital-style pants, shawls, wall hangings, fried food, carvings, and, of course, hashpipes and chillums. There are a handful of good vendors – one Aussie woman makes and sells very nice button down shirts, I’ll pick one up soon. Then I can write off my old blue shirt, which is in Bob’s possession in Bangkok, courtesy of the laundry service misplacing it. These are the things that occupy my life…my concerns are probably as dumb as yours, or dumber…don’t think for a moment I’m having hourly epiphanies and am entirely worry-free.

Case in point: while in Bangkok I ripped a few of Bob’s CDs, including Come Dancing by The Kinks. I realized I didn’t have any Kinks tracks and this was a good disc to have. Unfortunately, halfway through ripping it, the disc caused my computer to freeze up – must be a dirty CD. So I went onto iTunes to buy the rest of the tracks, plus a few more I found there. The thing is, sometimes the title of the physical CD and the title online differ (a la ‘the Kinks’ vs. ‘The Kinks’), so it appears you have two separate albums. You can go into iTunes and edit it, and sometimes I indeed do that. Does this sound fun and rewarding? It’s not.

Bean Me Up finally had its Halloween Party. I had a deeply lame costume – I dressed as David Ortiz from the Red Sox (baseball team). My outfit? A Sox cap, a white t-shirt on which I penned a huge ‘B’ on the front and a ’34 – Ortiz’ on the back. A pair of black sweatpants and sneakers and there I was. Of course, the real David Ortiz outweighs me by about 75 pounds, is black/Hispanic, and has a head full of frizzy black hair. Otherwise, I was a dead ringer. But it didn’t matter – most people (the adults, anyway) were drunk and half of them didn’t bother to wear a costume. And no one there ever heard of Ortiz, or the Sox for that matter.

The party was good fun – loads of kids, all in costume, good music, and a great buffet. Lisa, BMU’s proprietor, was the MC and awarded prizes to the kids with the best costumes. And she was interviewed on television – this was a biggish event for Goa. As for me, I sweated in the brutal heat and drank beer with Richard, Lisa’s boyfriend/soon-to-be hubbie. And after an hour I took off my costume and got back into civilian clothing, far better for the heat.

Now BMU’s restaurant was open. This is a key plank of my fitness/spa plan…last year I lost nearly 20 pounds in 6-7 weeks, via daily running, some yoga, and lots of vegetarian fare at BMU. My recent travels in Indochina featured too much white rice and noodles…I’ve gotten pudgy and need to focus to get back in fighting form. Just joined a nearby gym too…it’s got minimal equipment but that’s just fine, all I want is a treadmill and enough floor space to practice yoga, as well as aircon, and the gym has all these. Time to face the music…

Have continued to struggle against the bureaucratic torture that is India. I’m still working on getting a Vietnam visa, as my trip is just over two weeks away. How many times must I visit the local travel agent…and come up with additional documents…who would have thought that Kong Keo, a small hotel in Phonsavan, Laos, would be able to get me a Vietnam visa on the fly, in just two days, whereas these bozos in Goa and Mumbai can’t get their act together given weeks of time? I’m sure it will all get done, it’s just a matter of my time and the cost – at this point I’m sure both will be high.

Had dinner with Lisa and Richard on November 1, the first ‘normal’ night of BMU operations. Things were still coming together – new staff, a few new dishes, testing some CDs, etc. Lisa and Richard already feel like old friends…I love our chats about BMU’s business, about Goa’s (counter)culture, about US politics, etc. And Pakistan just got martial law so we’ve been venting on that. Also - BMU just opened an outlet in Hyderabad, and that’s going well thus far. I think that the BMU concept has legs…and I think that Lisa would be an inspiring presenter in front of b-school entrepreneurship classes, for example. Although the idea of ‘entrepreneurship class’ is a bit weird…and I should know, I took the class at Virginia. But my point is that Lisa has done some special things in starting and running BMU – spotting an opening in the market, i.e. tofu and related products in India, a country with its own huge vegetarian scene but lacking in protein-rich foods like tofu. And, of course, running a biz in India is a nightmare – corruption, staff turnover, lack of professional standards, you name it – she could talk ad nauseum regarding the operational side. She and Richard have already done much of the hard work, now I think they can move to ‘expand the empire’ and monetize their ideas. So we periodically chat about creative ways to do that.

Have recently written a couple short stories (mentioned in previous postings) that were spin-offs from this slog. The first was on Burma and submitted to the Solas Writing Competition. The second was about my near-death bus experience in the Philippines and I might submit that to Outside Magazine shortly. I’m also going to write up an experience on the overnight Manali-Dharamsala bus in India, which you might recall – an Israeli girl went from sleeping on the bus floor to assaulting me (with my full concurrence) within a matter of seconds. I’ve occasionally wondered if I should be doing anything with this slog…it’s so wide-ranging and unthematic that as a whole it probably wouldn’t make a cohesive book concept. But there are lots of short stories in there that may well deserve a second look, and that’s the way I’m leaning right now. If you have any faves from the slog please let me know, I will be taking requests…

Took a ride up to Morjim Beach, which is probably my favorite in north Goa. There’s usually no one there, except for hundreds of birds drawn to the rare Ridley Turtle eggs at the south end of the beach. It’s a remarkably peaceful place, one of my sanctuaries in Goa. Swam for an hour, walked the beach, then rode back to BMU.

Got an email from Palm.com that Daylight Savings Time change was nigh (in the US). Dates have changed significantly from prior years…so software downloads required. Torture. Downloaded Microsoft’s for Windows, no problem. But for my Treo it was not so simple, the patch via computer didn’t work (I have Vista and that seems to clash with Palm’s Quick Install program), so I had to go to Panjim and see the AirTel people there, who got my GPRS working – then I could use the Treo to get email and was able to download the patch directly from the Internet. Was this worth a few hours of annoyance? Hard to say…I do have the proper time settings now and know what time it is in the States…and I suppose I feel good about plowing through the process and ticking off another item in my to-do list. At the same time, I sort of wish I didn’t give a shit about these tasks (see: editing iTunes album names) and would just let them slide right off me. But it’s as my father has said – if you don’t have anything important to worry about, you find other things to worry about. There you go…

Finished the excellent book ‘America’s Boy’ by James Hamilton-Paterson. Haven’t learned so much from a book in a long while. The book manages to provide an excellent, succinct overview of Filipino history while also delivering huge insight into the country’s elusive, complex culture. I’ve spent a lot of time in the RP, but didn’t know half of this (the author has spent the past 20 years splitting time between the RP and the UK), and what I was aware of became crystallized by reading this. And while ostensibly covering the RP and the Marcos regime, the book serves as a mirror for the USA, against which the RP compares itself and often takes guidance from. I wasn’t particularly proud to be an American after reading about the flippant and devious manipulations we’ve subjected the Filipinos to…as the author rightly says, the only thing the United States cares about is the United States. And, of course, the US is always on ‘the defensive’ and simply ‘responding to provocation’…yeah, right.

Some great stories in this book. One concerned the first visit of the Marcoses to Washington, where Marcos gave a speech to Congress in which he told of how he helped the US fight the Japanese in WW2, and how he was wounded along with a GI – their blood commingling into Filipino soil. The brilliance of this speech? Marcos was hardly a resistance fighter, and in fact had a pretty good war – he sold goods to the Japanese and made a bundle of cash. His father, who did the same, was caught by Filipino patriots and US soldiers, and was quartered by water buffalo. LBJ and the CIA knew that Marcos was lying, but Vietnam was heating up and the US wanted allies in Asia, so we covered up his real actions and painted him as a war hero.

During that same visit, LBJ was dancing with Imelda Marcos, and putting his hands all over her. She said to Ferdie, ‘Hey honey – this guy’s groping me!’ and he replied ‘Don’t worry Meldy – it’s for a good cause.’ And he was right about that.

One more story – during the 1983 elections (I think that was the year, but it’s not important) voters in one town were trying to get to the polls, but couldn’t seem to get around some people milling around the ballot boxes – these people seemed sickly. Turns out that Marcos’s party trucked in a bunch of lepers from a nearby colony to go to the polling place and scare off voters – and it worked perfectly. Leprosy isn’t a contagious disease but if you’ve ever been close to a leper and seen the damage, you’d have a hard time remembering that fact. Classic…anyway, if you can find this book (try Amazon.com or eBay) I suggest picking it up. I know I often recommend books, but I have had the opportunity to read some real winners this year and have a few more promising tomes in front of me. Trust me, dear readers…

My first few days in Goa were during elections and were therefore ‘dry.’ This is the norm in Asia…you apparently can’t trust the people to show up at the polls sober, or refrain from violence (that’s the more likely concern, methinks). So Nine Bar was closed, and it was challenging to get a beer – but not impossible. Indians are Indians and everyone likes to make a rupee or 30, so C.O.D. usually works.

Felt like eating some meat, went over to nearby Dhum Biryani. This place has good northern Indian/mughlai cuisine, I just got some garlic cheese naan and chicken tikka kebab in a mild mustard sauce. Very aromatic – I love that about Indian food. Western food doesn’t often have much of a smell – whereas everything in India has one, good or bad. Inhaled the food, read a bit, and waddled out of there fat and happy.

Decided to see if Nine Bar had opened yet. Rode my bike there, en route was passed by a couple on their bike. Came to a corner that usually had lots of sand/dirt on the road, somewhat treacherous…and sure enough, the couple had taken it too fast and dropped their bike. They were still lying on the ground when I got there (probably 10 seconds after they fell). They were both OK…hopefully they learned not to take dusty corners so fast. That’s what you get for passing me, fuckers!
Nine Bar was still closed. Still ‘dry time.’ ‘Lucky’ the Nepali fellow was at the door – he tried to give me a hug, I ducked that and just shook his hand. I’ve already had my fill of affectionate/homosexual Asian men and just want to be friends…

Rode back to BMU. Lots of bulls and cows wandering around. Who owns these animals? I thought. Not that they’re going far…they move like turtles and are pretty calm. But the next day while riding I passed a column of bulls and cows, and one of the bulls jumped on the back of a cow and aggressively mounted it. The cow’s eyes widened noticeably and I laughed so hard I almost fell off my bike. And I temporarily forgot that I was on my way to a travel agent to discuss getting the Vietnam visa…yes, motorbikes can indeed be dangerous, particularly if you come into contact with humping bovines.

It’s been raining in the afternoons, and that’s strange as the monsoons tend to finish in late September. This year Lisa told me it rained for nearly six months. That would be hard to take. BMU’s garden is awesomely lush, as a result – but it was hell getting BMU up and ready to open. You can’t get much painting done in the rain. On Wednesday I went to the gym and worked out, and while on the treadmill, oblivious to all but my music it started to thunder and rain…and the ensuing storm was vast. I did realize it was raining, and wasn’t happy to have to ride home through huge puddles, but the rain went on for hours and the storm took down power lines, trees, and billboards (that’s ‘hoardings’ for Alan and Janine). A power line was down on the road I meant to take home, so I had to turn back. It took me an hour to re-route and get back to BMU, the usual travel time is 15 minutes. And all the power was out – BMU had to fire up its generator to keep the restaurant going. The head of the Alliance Francaise was coming to dinner that night – Lisa and Richard (who’s French) will probably get married in December and will have him officiate. It was obviously not a great night to show off BMU, what with the rain and circumscribed operations/crowd. People stayed at home that night and lit candles.

I slept badly – no fan, not much breeze. I woke up shvitzing every 30 minutes. The next morning I couldn’t have been crankier. Where was Imelda Marcos when I needed her?

Took the rest of the day for the power to come back. I couldn’t wait, and spent the day either at the beach or at the gym, soaking in the water and the aircon. When I returned to BMU around 6 p.m., things were back in order and people were much happier. I don’t mind going primitive now and then, but when it’s hot and the power’s cut unexpectedly, I’m not pleased. I am 40 years old, after all…

Went to the nearby town of Mapusa this morning to get some cash. Friday is when I pay my weekly bill at BMU, for both hotel and food, and that does add up. Of course, there was a long queue at the ATM in Mapusa – and Mapusa is just about the hottest place around, up there with the Anjuna Market and all of Vietnam. I sweated for 15 minutes and went through my handkerchief, wringing it out on the street much to the amusement of the locals, none of whom displayed a single bead of sweat. Is there gene therapy available for me?

While in line an older couple waddled up, confused at the system in front of them. Evidently they’d never waited for an ATM before. They had nametags that read ‘Norm Slarz-Boca Raton, FL’ and ‘Sharon Slarz-Boca Raton-FL’. Incredible – two elderly Jews from Florida, from the same town as my friend Matt (he of prostate cancer/surgery fame). Two elderly Jews, set loose in Mapusa, Goa, India, trying to get some cash. Two elderly Jews, having a hard time discerning how to do just that. Two elderly Jews, wearing nametags of a place that meant less than zero to every Indian around them. They were with some tour group that was listed, in tiny letters, at the bottom of their nametags.

This was nearly cruel and inhuman punishment – and while my cynical side sneered at their ridiculous provincialism (“Of course they’ve heard of Boca Raton, honey!”), I did feel a bit sorry for them. So I motioned them over and let them cut in front of me. I didn’t bother to ask those behind me in line – this is India, and lord knows how many times I’ve had Indians cut in front of me. They didn’t bother to learn queuing from the Brits, it seems. I was pissed off when they jumped in front of me – this was my revenge. The Slarzes were overjoyed and I felt I’d done my small part to re-balance the universe and restore equilibrium. I’m probably just deluding myself, but there in the 90 degree heat it all made good sense and that’s the line I’m sticking to. Over and out.

Pretty crazy and disjointed week. Prepare yourselves for a disjointed blog entry. Here goes…

Made it back to Bangkok in one piece. Was still chuckling over my final night in Railay, and resolved to be less of a planner and to go with the flow. Easier said than done, given my ever-present ‘smartphone’ with calendar…but I decided that at the very least I’d devote very little mindspace to augmenting the calendar listings. I’d be ‘random’ about tackling my various tasks and appointments…

That very night I had an important appointment (the Japanese always use that English word for their dinner engagements, etc. – it’s a bit formal and is probably better suited for doctor checkups but I like it anyway). Alan and Janine, my English friends from Philippines days, were in Bangkok – our paths were crossing for the first time since late June, in Coron. Four months ago – and we had taken two different (but sometimes similar) routes across Southeast Asia. A & J had spent a couple months in Malaysia, diving at Sipadan and getting to see real village life by volunteering for several weeks. I was curious to hear all about that, and to fill them in on my various (mis)adventures. We read each others’ blogs (theirs is at http://www.kingmackay05.blogspot.com), so we at least were partially clued in. I was really looking forward to seeing them – I’ve met lots of people during my travels but these two were my favorites.

We met at Water Bar on Soi Rangnam – Bob and I walked over from Starry Place Apartments to the bar, and after a few beers Alan & Janine pulled up in a taxi. A few hugs later, we were all seated outside and everything was flowing. We discussed pretty much everything under the sun that night…first, at Water Bar, where I believe we worked our way through 38 beers. I should mention that we were assisted by Bob’s friend Jan, one of the world’s most impressive drinkers – 38 beers is his usual nightly intake. Then, at around 2 a.m., Water Bar was closing and Alan and I had both voiced our knowledge of/appreciation for the national whiskey, Sang Som – and with Jan leading the way, we found ourselves at a street corner bar with an icebucket-chilled bottle of Sang Som and a few small bottles of soda.

Alan and Bob got into an argument about soccer/football. I drank a lot of whiskey – so did Jan. At some point we finished the bottle of Sang Som, and it was a natural point to call it a night. But somehow Jan ordered another bottle and we just went with it. Truth be told, we all (save Jan) could have called it a night after Water Bar…or after Sang Som #1. But I’d resolved to relax and not be too controlling about these matters. A few prostitutes littered the tables nearby. Bob was very drunk and had a huge shit-eating grin across his face, even as Alan demolished each and every one of his soccer arguments. We finally finished bottle #2 and stumbled home, with a good goodbye to A & J. Not sure when we’ll see each other again, I am trying to entice them down to Goa, but it may be Kathmandu, where they hope to do more volunteer work, that will be the place.

Game 1 of the (baseball) World Series was the next morning at 7 a.m. local time. I got back to the room and checked my watch: 5:10 a.m. Yeesh. My longest night in many moons, and I was seriously planning to arise to catch the entire game. I set my alarm and laid down. A great night – but as Alan later wrote in an email, we may want to at least start with lunch next time – so much drinking and cross-conversations happening that night that it was challenging to have enough time to simply banter…

One funny note: A & J had met my Dutch traveler friend Nienke in Cambodia. You might recall that Nienke and I met in Hue on a motorbike tour of the city…then randomly met on the street in Hoi An, and talked about her upcoming Hoi An-Dalat Easyriders bike tour. A & J had met her in Cambodia after that (I believe in Siem Reap or Battambang). I can’t recall how this came up when we were at Water Bar, but it did, and we’re quite sure it was the same woman we all met. The Southeast Asia backpacker circuit is smaller than it appears on maps…

I did get up at 7 a.m. to watch the game. My head hadn’t hurt that badly in months – at least since my 40th birthday party’s aftermath. But it was fully expected and all I had to do was lay in bed and watch Boston Red Sox ace Josh Beckett shut down the Colorado Rockies for the Game 1 win. That eased the pain, and I felt optimistic about Boston winning the series for the 2nd time in 4 years. Talk about a reversal of fortunes…the Red Sox, perennial bridesmaids, were finally practicing polygamy and I couldn’t get enough of it.

After the game I was essentially useless. I did drag myself over to the nearby Century Mall for lunch…and on the way back to I saw Bob, about to do the same and looking very, very haggard. We promised to get together that night, my last in Bangkok, but to make it mellow. Went back to my room and read a recent edition of The Economist – noticed an article about Libyan tourism that had a quote by a former colleague of mine, Rajeev Singh-Molares. Random.

Last night in Bangkok. Energy levels were low. Bob, Kate and I took the Skytrain over to Silom, where we chose Molly Malone’s Irish Bar for dinner. The guitarist was playing a Pink Floyd tune and Bob and I felt right at home. Afterward, we trolled around nearby Soi Thaniya and had a final beer at Barbican Bar. Soi Thaniya is full of Japanese-style hostess clubs and there were a few drunken, redfaced J-salarimen stumbling from bar to bar. Reminded me the ‘Entertainment districts’ of Tokyo, my former home…

Game 2 of the World Series was the next morning, again at 7 a.m. I had to fly to Mumbai around 4 p.m., so the timing was good, as it has been throughout the baseball playoffs. I had access to ESPN, and didn’t have to check out till noon, so I was safe. We also wound up taking this one, behind the pitching of old hand Curt Schilling, so we were up 2-0 in the best of 7. But these two games had been at Boston’s Fenway Park, which opened in 1912, the same week the Titanic sank. The next 3 games would be in Denver, and might have a very different outcome.

One of the many TV commercials was for ‘Big Love,’ a US show featuring a Mormom fellow and his multiple wives. I’ve never seen it, and have no idea if it’s a comedy or more of a social statement…but I did think it fitting that Thais will have a chance to see it. Polygamy was only outlawed here in 1932 and many Thai men still have ‘minor wives’ and there’s all sorts of other shenanigans going on. Monogamy doesn’t really seem to have captured the hearts and minds of many people here just yet…

Said bye to Bob, who had some Indian rupees that I was happy to buy from him…checked out of the hotel…in my haste (always bad) I nearly forgot the laundry I had given them to do. But I got that, and stepped into the cab. Later, I’d find that the hotel had lost a fave blue shirt of mine…déjà vu. They later found it and gave it to Bob to hold for me…not sure when the handover will take place. Watch your laundry carefully, ladies and gentlemen.

Had my usual reaction as I headed to Suvarnabhumi Airport – felt a bit sad about leaving Thailand and Southeast Asia, with it many many charms and user-friendliness – but was also excited about plunging back into India and Goa, a place so exotic and insane that it colors every moment with emotion. As for user-friendliness – well, no one’s ever accused India of having that characteristic.

Uneventful flight on Air India – which is about all you hope for from that carrier. The India immigration card had a category covering ‘reasons for entry,’ and one option was ‘pilgrimage.’ I love it. I ended up just checking the ‘tourism’ box but I think everyone who bothers to come to this place is making a pilgrimage of sorts.

Mumbai’s Sahar (sorry, Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj) Airport was shockingly calm. Felt like things were just getting ready to get wild…and I later learned I was right, because Beyonce Knowles was landing in an hour. I just got my bags and got a cab to the city…you just don’t want to hang around that airport any longer than you need to. It’s slightly less mad than it was in ’92 when I landed there for the first time, a clueless kid looking for a company driver who wasn’t there. Then, drivers fought over my duffel bag and tried to carry it to their cab, while I tried to make sense of it all. That’s a mistake in India – there’s often no sense at all.

In this entry I’m not going to provide much backstory, by the way – all of that can be found (along with lots of Mumbai photos, etc.) in the entries I posted last year from mid-September through mid-December. If you have the time, I urge you to go back and check out those posts – lots of good stories from ‘the old days’ and some good pics of India.

You do need to be ready for (and open to) nearly everything when in India. I had almost forgotten this, but was soon reminded when my cab driver, a fiercely bearded lad, stopped our vehicle in the middle of a crowded road and went over to the cab to our left, screaming at the driver. They obviously knew each other and had some bone of contention…I sat in our cab, shocked and appalled…eventually the argument petered out and my driver returned. I said absolutely nothing and on we went.

We were still far from the city center. Drove by a sign that showed the way to Gateway of India, which is in the Colaba section of the city. Weird – the sign was so far from the monument that it was nearly useless, a non sequitir – almost like seeing a sign for the Taj Mahal in the middle of Delhi.

At one point my foot felt warm – I looked down at it and noticed a sizeable hole in the floor of the cab. Somehow I always knew that the Flintstones originated in India.

Got to my hotel, Maria’s Lodge. I arrived later than they expected, and my room wasn’t ready, which meant they gave my room to someone else and had to find another for me. Wonderful. My room now wouldn’t be ready till 11:30 p.m., and it was only 9 or so. I dropped my bags and went out for a walk and a bite. Colaba has a few mainstay spots, all mentioned in my posts last year. Bade Miya – the cart with the world’s best kebabs. Leopold’s and Mondegar’s - two great spots to sit, drink beer, talk with friends, and watch the mayhem of the street unfold. Indigo – fine dining. Busaba – excellent cocktails. And, of course, Gateway of India, lit up at night and an icon in every way.

Went back to Maria Lodge, and my room was ready. Unfortunately for me. It would have been better if they had turned me out on the street to find other accommodations. My room was perhaps the worst I’ve ever seen, worse than the cheapo hotels/hostels in Oz, worse than Laly & Abets in El Nido, and at least as bad as the room in Pathankot where I stayed in ’92 with Jan and the 2 Dharamsala-based guides. Lonely Planet had touted this place as ‘ridiculously clean,’ and they couldn’t have been more off. There was scarcely a square inch of this room that wasn’t flecked with something foul…I was afraid to touch the walls or put my bags down. Eventually I did put the bags down, but slept with my clothes on and resolved to get the fuck out of there come morning.

Fitful sleep – I prefer to sleep in my birthday suit. There was at least aircon and a fan, so I wasn’t hot…just in a foul mood from the inaccuracy of the guidebook and the callousness of a management that would retail such an awful space. Mumbai real estate prices are amongst the highest in the world, and I’ve always known that you don’t get great value here…and now I understood that there were simply no habitable budget hotels in the city. Lesson learned.

Got up and walked a few blocks to a place I’ve often walked by, the Apollo Hotel. It’s near Leopold’s and Bade Miye, and has a pleasant exterior. Looked at a room, which was fine – they wanted US$80 per night and I half-heartedly tried to haggle. They wouldn’t budge (I probably looked like death warmed over and desperate) and I caved. I got a cab to take me back to the foul Maria Lodge, where I picked up my bag and checked out. I told them I needed something ‘with more amenities.’ I am far too nice. Remind me to email Lonely Planet and rip them on their assessment of Maria Lodge - I’ll bet they never spent a night in the dump.

The cabbie took me back to Apollo. En route I told him that Maria Lodge sucked and was dirty – he responded that it ‘is not for businessmen.’ I guess I’m still a businessman at heart. When we arrived at Apollo, I asked him the roundtrip fare – he told me ‘what you want.’ Yeah right. He had used the meter…which is confusing in Mumbai, because you have to multiple the meter figure by 13 to get the fare. Most drivers have a laminated card showing the ‘multiplication tables,’ but won’t share it with you. I already knew the deal, and asked him the fare once more. Seventy rupees, he told me sheepishly. The meter showed 1.40, so the fare was about 18 rupees. I called him an old liar and gave him 19 rupees. And I told him not to cheat tourists…that was bad karma. He muttered at me and took off.

The Apollo was an OK choice. Not cheap, but I could afford it and refused to stay in a hovel. Still, it was annoying going from less than $20/night to $80/night. I know that I’m a cheap Jew…I just wish I were better at it.

The best thing about the Apollo? Extensive cable TV, which is ordinarily a non-factor for me (I go months without switching on a TV), but Games 3 and 4 of the World Series were nigh and I was ecstatic about having ESPN. Not sure what I would have done otherwise, as the games were at 5:30 a.m. local time. No web cafes are likely to be open then, and the bars certainly wouldn’t be either.

So I was now set for the next couple days. Spent some time wandering around Mumbai, taking care of errands and seeing some familiar spots. Noticed lots of billboards (hoardings, in the arcane terminology of Alan and Janine) boasting of the city’s new anti-drunk driving campaign. ‘Drive out of a bar and drive into bars,’ the billboard warned. I think the city has arrested 25 people during this ‘drive’…25 people who lacked sufficient rupees to buy their way out of an arrest. The song remains the same – always have plenty of cash on you to grease the wheels of Asian justice…

Mumbai is looking a bit better these days. There’s a new Marine Drive promenade, not yet completely covered with paan spittle. But the infrastructure still stinks – if you fly from Shanghai to Mumbai your first reaction would probably be ‘ugh.’ The city/state government just announced a US$60 billion campaign to revamp the city and turn it into a global financial center. It already is such a place, just a rough place to live and do business in, at least for us foreigners. My first reaction to hearing of the proposed sum was, ‘double it.’

Mumbai is also horrible value compared to cities like Bangkok. For US$20/night in Bangkok, I got a nice room at Starry Place, and you can find a very nice room for $50 anywhere in town. In Mumbai, $50 gets you an OK, worn-out room with loud aircon and bedsheets with cigarette holes. Charming. No wonder Bangkok is chock-full of Westerners and Mumbai is not. Of course, the ease of getting laid in Bangkok is also a huge factor – no one goes to India for titillation (beyond staring at elaborate temple carvings of tantric sex). My point is that Mumbai, and India, have a long ways to go before they’re places where talented foreigners are jazzed to go live.

Got back to the Apollo to take a nap. In the lobby I noticed a Western couple with guidebook earnestly doing their travel planning; seated nearby was an Arab man in full regalia, with his grody feet on the couch (I noted the location for future avoidance) and 4 woman, presumably his wives, seated around him. They weren’t travel planning. Only im Mumbai…

Took it easy that night. The next morning, at 5:30, was Game 3 of the World Series. A close game, but we again prevailed, led by pitcher Matsuzaka from Japan. I was thrilled that the Sox had become more international and I was constantly emailing my friends in Japan about Matsuzaka and our other J-pitcher Okajima. Now we were one game from taking the title. I felt calm, not a sensation often associated with the Red Sox.

Speaking of Japan – I read an article in the paper about the top English school in Japan, Nova, going under. Apparently it was a shock to most employees and about 4,000 foreign teachers are now screwed. If they don’t find new jobs pronto, they’ll be deported. And Japan is also moving to implement fingerprinting of all foreigners coming into the country, even if they’re long-term/permanent residents. They’ll get fingerprinted every time they re-enter Japan. Remember what I said about Mumbai losing the battle to get talented foreigners? A word to the wise…

I saw a shop called ‘Fish Fry’ selling huge shisha/hookah pipes. I imagine they’d also make rather effective water-bongs. But, of course, that’s illegal in India…and most charas (pot) smokers prefer homemade chillums anyway…

Had a snack and a Kingfisher beer at my beloved Leopold’s, which is now so swamped with tourists that much of the charm is gone. I largely blame the book Shantaram, which is partially set at the café. Now every tourist thinks they’re a world adventurer by having a curry there…as for yours truly, I’ve been going there since ’92 and was an early fan of their club sandwich. Which is still quite good, by the way.

Had dinner with b-school buddy Rajan that night. We went to my favorite seafood place, Trishna, and gorged on crab, fish and prawns. Unbelievable food – I was covered in crab splatter within minutes. I like Mahesh Lunch Home, not far away, but I love Trishna.

Rajan and I caught up on old classmates. I told him Jan and Joan Unger just had a daughter…he told me that Amar R. had just had a heart attack, at age 41 or thereabouts. Yikes. I wrote in an earlier post about university friend Matt, who just had his prostate removed, and now this. Seems we’ve reached a threshold at which anything can happen, and I resolved to get my ass in gear in Goa – running, yoga, less drinking, and mostly veg food. I did it last year, and will do it again. Hold my feet to the fire, friends.

Rajan’s very busy these days, so we had a quick coffee after dinner and then parted ways. I hit the sack, as Game 4 was at 5:30 the next morning. This could be the finale and I wanted to watch every second.

I have been preternaturally lucky with regard to catching the Sox games, on TV and on wireless. Even though I’ve been traveling, and sometimes staying in modest hotels, it seems that all my plans fit nicely around the games. In Koh Phi Phi, I caught the final games of the Cleveland series, while in Railay there were no games, thankfully, as I had zero access, and when I got to Bangkok and the Series began I had ESPN. Then, in India, I moved over to the Apollo just in time for the final two Series games. In hindsight, I should really have gone to a place like the Apollo from the get-go in Mumbai, knowing that I wanted cable access. But it all turned out fine…

The final bit of anxiety was around Game 4. If we lost this one, we still had a stranglehold on the Series, but I was flying to Goa that afternoon, and it would not be easy finding a way to watch Game 5 etc. in Goa. I had that in mind as the game kicked off.

Another close game. The young guys at the top of the Sox order came through again – Pedroia and Ellsbury were terrific. Pitcher Jon Lester was also on his game…Mike Lowell homered and gave us some breathing room, and seldom-used substitute Bobby Kielty homered on the first pitch he saw, and that provided the final margin. We won 4-3, and swept the Series 4-0, as we had done in 2004. Incredible. The Red Sox were a dominant, near-dynastic team for the first time since 1912-1918. And, in my opinion, this was a team without evident flaws – perhaps the best Red Sox team of all time. If you have a chance, go online and read Sox columns written by Boston Herald sportswriter Tony Massarotti – Tony was a classmate of mine at Tufts University and he has the dream job these days, in my opinion. Writing about the Sox during this stretch has to be pretty damn rewarding. I saw him speak late last year in Boston and thought his analyses and predictions were spot-on.

Checked out, got in a cab to the airport. Cabbie attempted to rip me off, surprise surprise, wanted 500 rupees. I got him down to 350 by threatening to get out of the cab. Empty threat, but he didn’t know that.

Easy flight to Goa. Was fidgeting with excitement all the way there. I’d have as much time as I wanted in Goa, all winter most likely, whereas last time was just 6-7 weeks and it felt clipped. Plus, I had already read the mammoth book Shantaram (mentioned above), so that exercise in torture was behind me. But I have heard that author Roberts is coming up with a sequel…hopefully that’s a year or two away.

I also knew that I’d have several friends in Goa, from last year. Lisa and Richard, who run Bean Me Up, where I’d again stay. Prem Joshua and Umang, friends and sidekicks. Bini, who runs the wait staff at BMU and is a constant source of smiles and good cheer. And various others…it promised to be a warm homecoming and winter.

In the minivan from Goa’s Dabolim Airport to Anjuna and BMU, saw a couple signs for BMU – one was last year’s ‘the real thing’ sign, the photo of which I had in a blog entry, and a new one had ‘Bean Me Up-Reloaded’, which reminded me of the Matrix movie series.

Got to BMU around 5 p.m. Lisa was there, busy getting the place ready for the Halloween Grand Opening. So was Bini. It had been a heavy monsoon, so the garden was lush and beautiful. I checked into my old room and chatted with them for a while. After a few minutes it felt like I had never left and, after such constant and tiring travels since February, this was the feeling I was seeking. Trying to strike the proper balance between the unknown and the familiar has always been a challenge and theme for me, and hopefully comes across in my entries. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to do a good job of this at the macro level, but during certain stretches I do feel I’m in the right groove, and this is one of those stretches. Over and out.