I blame Rahul! It may not be his fault, but I'll blame him anyway. He was all sniffling and sneezing when we met and I told him if he had cold to stay away since you're always susceptible right after a long flight from the dehydration.

While I was writing my last post I started to feel a little out of sorts. I ran to the pharmacy across the street from the web cafe and got a non-chelated cold remedy. I have no idea what it is, but 20 pills only cost me 44 rupees or one dollar. The helped, but the entire day yesterday was an excercise in stamina.

I couldn't sleep. A doctor once told me that when you're getting a viral infection you often suffer from a little insomnia. That coupled with the big trucks coming and going all night in front of the hotel left me sleepless. I gave up on sleep, showered and headed out the door for the Kudamba bus terminal which I knew was somewhere across the river. However, when I got a few blocks away from the hotel I realized I had no clue where I was and I'd forgotten my map of Panaji back in the hotel.

I asked one guy for directions who just stared blindly at me. Its so hard to tell who speaks English and who does not. I saw a well dressed diminuitive guy across the street, remember this is 7 AM, and asked him for directions. He said, "Come with me."

I did and it turned out he'd moved to Goa with his work several months before from Gujurat which is rumored to have the friendliest people in India. It seems hard to beat the many kind folks I've run across, but this guy was fantastic. He's 28, single, love Goa and just a great guy. He dropped me off just before the foot bridge that crosses the river from the Fountainias district because I told him I had my bearings again and could find it.

Across the bridge stood a huge parking lot filled with tourist buses. It had to have been the size of three football fields. Apparently many of the Indians that come down come on economy tour packages - not available to foreigners - and often stay several people to a room for purposes of saving money. No wonder all the rooms are so beat up. I stopped a jogger directions to the actual terminal and he told me to follow the road to my left. A litter strewn path would have been more descriptive. The closer I got to the terminal, the worse the smell got. I had visions of the bus stations in Africa where the trees around the station were the toilet. I looked around and sure enough piles of people poo littered the ground all around me and off in the distance to my left a guy dropped his trousers and squated. I walked faster.

I lucked upon the Mapusa ( pronounced Mapsa) bus almost immediately. The guy ushered me in the door, I took a seat and 3 minutes later we were on our way. Amazingly the bus seemed to stop every 100 feet. Damn, haven't these people heard of walking. One girl at the top of a big hill saw the bus waiting and took her sweet time walking down the hill. How annoying. I'd have left her there and taken off. Traffic laws don't seem to exist here. Driving is much like ordered chaos. I actually find the chaos somewhat soothing like a modern dance of motorbikes, trucks, taxi's and buses. Its not unusual to drive down the wrong side of the road into oncoming taffic to get past a pile of cars. The oncoming traffic just swerves around and keeps going apparently unphased.

Again, time eludes me. I have an appoinment I have to keep. More later.

Oddly the Mapusa bus station seemed more chaotic despite the small population of the city. But I had no difficulties finding the bus. I soon discovered that the bus wasn't loaded with school kids and business men, but a rougher looking crowd. Only one guy looked moderately well groomed. I'd have sat next to him, but he had his back pack in the other seat. Instead I sat next to a puny little itty bitty man probably bordering on psychosis. He mumbled to himself and sang out the window. He bounced around in his seat like somone that's done too much chrystal meth. At least he didn' stink too much.

The roads to Anjuna where the market is located, are mostly one lane with rice paddies, cattle, water buffalo, swamps, creeks, big humoungous trees and a lot of coconut palms. I coudn't get much as far as pictures because the bus moved too fast.

Street signs don't seem to be very popular in India, most people go by landmarks, so I had no idea where to get off. I leaned forward to the clean looking guy and asked him where the market stop was. He said he was a vendor. I said, 'Okay, I'll just follow you". I did just that.