I finally feel better today so I'm going to try to do a nice synopsis of what's transpired over the past week.

The day I got sick I spent with a realtor in Panaji. Or shall I say, the realtor's assistant who couldn't talk price, couldn't talk neighborhood, didn't know anything about the properties and took me around in the back of an autorickshaw - a motorcycle with a cab and two rear wheels. The first place they showed me was down toward Anjuna, one of the beach communities where I'd gone to the big market.

We drove down a one lane road to a dirt road that the autorickshaw couldn't navigate and then walked. There had been a beautiful old house there but it had long since caved in. I tried to get a better look at it, but when I got about 25 feet into the weeds who stood as tall as I did, a group of pigs startled and ran off right in front of me. I had visions of being pig food in Goa. These were native wild pigs that look something akin to razorbacks with their scrawny bodies and long withers growing off their backs.

The old house was a total teardown, the new house one ugly mo fo, and the lot next door housed a slum. No prospect of me buying that piece of garbage. I'd explained my goal to the Realtor that I would be restoring a very old building to just beyond its orginal magnificence to open a boutique hotel. I started to get a queasy feeling that she didn't understand what I wanted.

The next property stood four stories tall and had all the character of a cardboard box: bad floor plan, gross stores, a lot of traffic and absolutely no charm.

Next a huge lot with a totally stripped and vandalized old house that has been vacant for some years except for the occassional use as a toilet. If I wanted to do development, this would have been the lot, good location, good surrounding properties, close to the beach and shopping, but it was not for me.

Next we say a really pretty old house on a huge manicured lot, surrounded by restaurants, craft stores, a couple of minutes from the beach and great potential for a pool and expansion. The only problem was we couldn't get in.

Next a huge character property, perfect floor plan, big lot but in need of everything. I'd have needed at least $200,000 just for repairs.

And that was it. The assistant, I think her name was Savita, dropped me back at the Hotel Neptune Deluxe and for the life of me I can't remember what I did. I do recall being picked up later in the afternoon to see two more properties in town. The first was a gorgeous modern building built lovingly by an old Portuquese couple in the old Portuguese style. I knew I'd love this lady the moment I peaked in the window. Every ornament and piece of furniture in her house I could easily see in my house. Both she and her husband had been professors at the arts college down the street and often threw strings concerts in the house. Immediately inside the door the ceiling swept upwards to amazing arches. The living room stood on two levels the lower (about 5 feet below the upper) and the upper under the towering ceilings.

I loved the house, 6 bedrooms, 5 baths, big, in a great location and perfect for a bed and breakfast. The price $232,000. Not too terribly bad.

The last and final property took my breath away. It stood on the slopes of Altinha, the best neighborhood in the old part of the city, with views to the river and ocean over the old neighborhoods of Sao Tome and Fountanias. A massive old structure loaded with character and completely stripped and vandalized. At the same moment I was in love and overwhelmed by the amount of work it would take to restore it. On the other end would be THE premier boutique hotel for the entire region. I found out later for this shell of a house they wanted over $500,000. Yikes!

I went home and wrote.

As I left the web cafe from the previous post, my head blazed, my joints ached, and the street seemed to ebb and flow in front of me. I spent the next 8 hours alternating between raging fevers and arctic chills. If I'd been more aware, I'd have gotten myself to the doctor, but alas I was too sick. I ate a whole lot of Ibuprofen and mystery cold remedy that night and by morning felt I could keep up with Mohin and company. He called me from downstairs around noon. I got up and showered while he went and got a shave across the street. The man is stunning with or without a growth. He looked quite spiffy though all cleaned up.

He asked what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to see the Goa State Museum. He told me there was no such thing, the he'd grown up there and knew the city. I however have met many of those types that have never left their hometowns. They never seem to know what's going on, for the you need somebody who's imported. They come in with a fresh eye.

I managed to guide Mohin to the museum and it was spectacular. The exibits were wonderful, it was well laid out, and best of all it was free. With thousands and thousands of tourists in town for the season, the kite festival and the film festival, you'd think that a few of them would have shown up at the Museum. Nope, not a one, we had the whole place to ourselves. Some of the older exhibits were of pottery and stone carvings from thousands of years ago. Slowly room by room, they traced the history of Goa to the time of the Portuguese, the Inquisition (the christian recruiting scheme of that era included torture for those caught practicing other religions - apparently that works, Goa is mostly christian today), and then Independence.

We went to eat after that and Mohin wanted to go to the beach, but I didn't have any energy left. The second I hit the hotel room I collapsed into another night of fevers and sweats. I had managed to book my air ticket to Rajastan though for the next day.

Before I left though, Mohin and his friend Raju wanted to show me another house that Raju had found for me. The further we got from civilization, the more nervous I became. The house stood 15 miles from the ocean in a cute little traditional village with no restaurant, no shopping, no nothing to do, had no parking, had a small lot and only had two bedrooms. On top of the two and a half hours it took us to get there and the total inadequacy of the house they couldn't find the key. In hindsite that's kind of funny.

At the time however, I only had an hour and a half to get to the airport and I needed to buy more cold meds. We made it but, it cost me a lot of money in rentals.

I sat miserably in my window seat all the way to Mumbai coughing every few seconds a dry hacking cough that accomplished nothing other than to make the people in the seats around me lean away. Two hours laying over in Mumbai and the plane left for Rajastan. It felt like one of the longest days in my life. I went to bed that night and only venured out for two hours the next day.

The good news, my hotel is fabulous. Its an old palace built in the late 1800's by the Thakurs. I'm not sure what a Thakur is, but they build damn good palace. The street out front is completely chaotic and filthy, covered in camel, dog, pig, cow, and human dung and every imagineable kind of litter. In the misdst of all the ugly chaos stands this big gate that looks somewhat clean, but it gives no idea as to whats inside. Beyond a parkade and through another gate immense lawns spread out leading up to an bejeweled wonder of a hotel. Minarettes, stained glass windows in traditional Rajistani style, inlaid stone floors, pool, an immense dining hall, antiques, great art... I'm not exagerating when I say its probably among the best hotels I've ever stayed in, and I've stayed in the best...and its only about $25 a night.

My room is palatial with colored stone moziac floors, 20 foot ceilings coved to a pointed peak in the center and stenciled to amazing detail. The water is hot, they provide, soap, shampoo, towels...everything you want, the service is good and it was just what the doctor ordered for a very sick boy.

Day one I ventured up to the pink city, the old section of town that is completely walled in and which surrounds a grand palace. The image painted by the guide book is way too generous with the place. Again, litter, refuse, excrement, people everywhere.

Tomorrow I'll tell about the rot toothed, watery old guy that took me to monster in wait...