He seemed like a nice enough sort of chap. We discussed the market and its size and quality as we walked up. It looked like Oz at the end of an open field all dazzling bright colors on rows and rows of tents. I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into the market and get started.

The morning vendors were like jackels circling a wouned wildebeast. Here's this white dude, back pack slack on his shoulders, a big fanny pack full of money and a camera slung over his shoulder. I got nailed into negotiating right away with the words, "Its free to look." Ha! Not if they have their way. First I'm looking at some blankets, then I'm sitting on a stool and the next thing you know I'm working the price down on this beadcover I don't even want. I got a grip on myself and beat a path out of there. Three stores later I ended up buying a bedcover. This one I did really want. Its cream color with gold hand embroidered elephants, the same as the one I'd come close to buying in Mumbai. There I got the price down to $100. Here I got it for $20 with five pillow cases for another 5 bucks. This guy said its not all about the money that the vendors have a belief that if they can sell to the first customer of the day that sales will be swift the whole day. I ruined a lot of people's days.

Drowning in a sea of mirrored hand bags, cheap saris, ugly mens shirts all the same style, bedspreads galore, ugly bone bracelets and necklaces, I managed to make my way past many of the hands grasping me and the herders trying to get the wild goat into the store. This wild goat got snared by a rock vendor and ended up buying a whole pile of rocks again. I paid WAY too much for the ones I bought in Mumbai. Here I got a pile of rocks for $5 as opposed to 5 rocks for $40. Stinking Rahul telling me that the prices are cheapest in Mumbai.

I booked it from there after my rocks were wrapped in newspaper and placed in my backpack. My shoulders ached and my knees started to argue with me. I had trouble lifting my legs to get over steps. I didn't realize until later that the joint pains resulted from my little visiting virus. I sucked it up like a trouper and moved on. Back on the outskirts of the market I ran into a vendor like I've never seen before. She had a huge nose ring protruding from her left nostril and several other assorted tribal piercings. Her unique style of dress epitomized my search for authenticity at the oddest of places, a tourist swarmed market in the middle of a field. Transfixed by her look, I found myself sitting down and fingering through her horrible choice of artifacts. Her rug hosted the same assortment of cheap crappy jewelry as everyone else's, but she had another trick up her sleeve... charm. She actually made me laugh, not an easy task when I'm overwhelmed, sick and tired. In the end I told her I didn't want to buy anything, but I'd pay her to let me take her picture. She thought it was my turn to joke. I was serious. I took a picture and the surrounding vendors crowded in. She felt guilty somehow and gave me one of her ugly bracelets. I love that bracelet now...go figure. After all the banter with her with the sorrounding vendors listening in, I got swarmed the moment I stood up. I was in such a hurry to get away that I tripped over a tree root and almost fell flat on my face. I caught my balance just in time to move out of the way of a train of cattle, one, two, three and soon five cows walked on through, one of them leaving a little calling card right in front of me. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to snap a picture.

I tracked the cattle as they walked right through several of the booths stamping over merchandise in the process.

I found myself at a dead end in the maze of booths. I'm not even sure how the cattle got in. I couldn't see an opening for them. I figured they knew what they were doing, so I followed them back to the main portion of the market. I found a vendor with bronze work and bought a couple of really stylized door handles off of him. I've not seem them before or since, so I feel good about getting something truly unique amongst the conformity.

Amidst the shows of "come to my shop next. Come see my store," were laments about how these vendors hadn't sold a thing with a studied sad face. I stayed in line with my sales resistance and handled each volley as it came. Stumbling along in a daze amongst the caos a guy came up to me and said I had something stuck in my ear which he promptly made great show of pulling out with his filthy sharp instrument. He showed me a big ball of wax that supposedly had come from my ear and came back at me offering to clean my ears with that sorry looking bacteria haven. I put my hand out and said, "NO!" and backed away. I knew there was no such thing in my ear because I clean my ears everyday.

Backing away I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the guy who'd led me to the market. He gave me a free temporary tattoo. It was cute and he seemed nice, so I bought his tatoo kit for a little too much money. Then his "friend" swooped in on me and followed me for several rows trying to sell me silk paintings. I finally gave in and bought some to make him go away. I paid too much money there. I started to realize that I had a fever and should start making my way out of the market. Rivers of sweat poured off my face and soaked my shirt and shorts. The other white folk were all in swimwear and looked so much more comfortable than I in my heavy dark t-shirt and heavy black shorts, the only things in my suitcase that were remotely clean.

I began weaving my way out when another rock table caught my eye. He had green rocks with bits of ruby in them all polished up and ready to go. They felt good in my hand. I couldn't resist. I bought several of them. The price was okay.

The further I want the more feverish I became and the cold water I bought didn't seem to help much. I started shopping for a kuta shirt and sari's. The saris were of poor quality as were most of the shirts. I finally ended up buying 4 shirts, two of which I really liked when I got back to the hotel and two of which I really hate. Back at the main road I considered taking the bus back, but opted instead to take a taxi. What's money for if not to bail you out of a difficult situation? The taxi cost me about $7, value? Priceless.

Back home I showered, took some drugs, felt better and called Mohin. He and his friends were going to take me to Old Goa to show me the Portuguese churches there from the 1500's. I caught them just in time. Mohin, Luis, Luis's mom, and Raju swung by and picked me up. All five of us squeezed into Luis's subcompact. It was a tight squeeze. I sat next to Mohin, my leg touching his. If I haven't gotten a good gaydar vibe off of someone just by looking at them, I can totally pick up the vibe when I touch them. Smart, sweet and handsome as he is, no vibe at all. Straight girls, have at him :)

We parked in a huge lot and made our way up to the road. I commented on the number of security people they had around. Mohin told me that visitors come from all over the world two see the 200 year old immaculately preserved body of a priest, that tens of thousands of people are there in the course of any one day. Skeptical though I was, he wasn't joking. The further along the road we got, and it was a hike, the more people swarmed around. Mohin told me that usually there is a quie of 1-2 hours to see the body. Through a stroke of luck we managed to get in 20 minutes later. I let an old lady from the short line of elderly and disabled people go in front of me. She and the old lady in front of her actually got all weepy and kissed the glass coffin. Besides being strange, that's just plain unsanitary.

The body looked like an old worm eaten corpse to me. Serious decay had set in and many toes and other extremities had gone missing. After I'd moved by I stopped to take a look at the people in line around the coffin. They all seemed so serious to me. I felt like I was from another planet, not only did I find it slightly morbid, but I found it just downright confusing. I don't get religious people and that experience didn't help.

To add to the bizarre nature of the event, outside just past the front of the churches yard a carnival burst forth in all its manic energy. I bought two post cards that depicted the mummy so I could scan and post them to the site. We had candy, laughed, and had a great time. What a hoot! Again, in search of authenticity, there was only one other foreigner there that I could detect and that was a bewildered looking black guy with a LA Fitness t-shirt. I wanted to ask him if he found it all as odd as I did, but I didn't want to risk offending him.

On our way out of the area, I noted that the line was now five times as long as when we'd arrived to see the body.

We made our way back to the city where we dropped Luis's mom off and headed out to a Realtor friend of Raju's. I told her what I was looking for, signed a limited buyer/broker agreement, and we made our way to eat. This gang finds my habbit of eating at 6:30 PM just plain odd, but they humored me at a really good and really cheap Goan restaurant. I didn't tell them that I hadn't eaten all day. When my stomach started churning and an attack of explosive diareah set in, the waiter showed me to the bathroom explaining in Hindi that the Western toilet didn't work, I'd have to use the squat toilet. I'd used a benjo (squat toilet) in Japan one time when I had diareah. It was an old public restroom where the stall was very tiny, there was barely enough space to squat let alone aim from the wrong direction. I'd missed. Fortunately I didn't have that same problem this time. After the cramping finished, I looked for toilet paper. I eyed the bucket with the little dipper in it suspiciously wondering how many dirty hands had touched. I washed my hands over it and contemplated how I'd clean up. Fortunately I'd prepared myself for this eventuality by bringing along small packets of kleenex which I'd almost forgotten. Moments later I'd emptied a pail of water down the toilet to flush, had cleaned up and emerged into the comparatively fresh smog filled air with a new appreciation.

I choked down a couple more pills, paid the bill, $5 for three plates of food, 5 alcoholic beverages, and 2 bottles of water.

The Goa International Film Festival was next on the Agenda. We found it almost impossible to park since so many people had come. They flowed in from all sides including boats off the beach. Luis dropped us off while he went to park. We people watched until he got back. Mohin knows just about everyone in town it seems. Several celebrities got up to speak on the stage shortly after we got there. They said things like "How are you tonight, Goa?" to pep up the crowd. These attempts were greeted with silence. Each guest tried again until one guy tried speaking in Hindi thinking the crowd just wansn't understanding. It didn't work. At least 20,000 people were there and not a one shouted or whistled or anything. We stayed about 2 hours. I didn't see a single white or black person the whole time. Even my hotel owners seem surprised that I'm staying with them rather than beating a trail to the foreigner hotels. Again, I don't get that. If you want to stay in a clone hotel, why not stay home in the Marriot and watch a travel video. I guess in reality I'm the one that's odd.

When my aches came back, I confessed to the guys that I was really tired. They agreed to take me back to the hotel. Luis is a total madman. With all the people on the streets and road closures for security, traffic was a bitch. Luis, without qualm, started driving down the wrong side of the road full blast into traffic. This is scarey enough during the day, but at night its particularly terrorizing.

Once they dropped me off and I'd showered, I went straight to bed. This time I slept fairly well and staid in bed until about nine this morning. At 10:30 I had an appointment with the Realtor to go see properties. I'll continue with that tomorrow and describe the confusing nature of laks and crows...