Wanderlust Heaven!

My room has a nice big mosquito net around the whole bed. We don’t have that at home!! Of course, we don’t have 6-inch skeeters at home either. At night when I lie down on the bed and open up the net, I feel like I’m in some palace, the bed is so large, with four posters, and the gauzy net is all around me like fine silk.

I traded in my big motorcycle for a cool little Honda Activa scooter. Now I don’t have to worry about my foot reaching the gearshift. Last week I skinned my knee when I spun out on some loose gravel. But the nurse was really nice and gave me some candy while she bandaged my knee. And she didn’t even yell at me for being a stupid little kid!!

I’m not wearing a watch anymore. Yeah, of course I like the watch you bought me. But time really doesn’t matter that much here. All you need to know is that when the sun’s up, it’s beach time. And when the sun starts to go down, it’s still beach time, preferably accompanied by grown-up drinks. But get this – there are cool bars everywhere and they serve everybody, even me! It sure wasn’t like this at home.

A few days ago Benji and I rode down to Candolim Beach. I remember going there a long time ago with Jan and Craig. But this time there’s a huge barge stuck in the bay! Wait till all my friends at school hear about this! Some dumb drunk captain screwed up and beached his huge ship right next to the beach – and it’s been stuck there for six years! We thought that Boston Harbor was bad.

Me and Benji talked about trying to board the ship. But there might be bad guys there. Or it might smell like pooh. So in the end we just went swimming near it. And then we were hungry. So we went to a beach shack called ‘Calamari…Bathe and Binge.’ Benji had fries (he calls them ‘chips’ – how weird) and I had some sloppy chicken dish. And a cold beer. Because everybody can drink here in Goa. So there.

While we were sitting at Calamari we read the back of the menu. It said that Calamari was rated the fifth-best beach shack in the world by some overseas newspaper. The other ones were in Sicily, Morocco and England. Maybe we can take a family vacation to those places when I get back?

Soon after that it was Diwali, the biggest Indian festival, and there were cool celebrations everywhere. And lots of Chinese firecrackers. Our counselors wouldn’t let us buy any, so we just hung around and watched Indian kids light them. I read in the newspaper that every Diwali tons of people get hurt by firecrackers. I remember back at home during one Fourth of July, Billy threw a firecracker at me after lighting it. But I ducked and it missed me. So there.

Another day Benji and I rode our bikes all the way to the northern border, right near the state of Maharashtra (the state with Mumbai in it). That was fun…the roads got pretty narrow and we had a few close calls. There were cows wandering all over the place and I started daydreaming about juicy hamburgers at Wendy’s. When I get home I really want to eat a few double burgers with everything. And chili. And frosty’s too. That would be really cool.

When we got back from the northern border – where we swam and talked for a while – we went to an all-day party at a beach shack called Curly’s. All the big kids were there. Lots of funny little cigarettes. People were acting kind of funny. Loud trance music was playing. One big kid was nearly naked and he was throwing his body around like crazy. He had a big funny strange grin on his face the whole time – he looked really happy. I wonder why.

We stayed there for a few hours. Some of the kids from our bunk were there – some people from England or one of those places where they speak English too. One kid was too tired to dance or even stand – he had a droopy smile on his face. But he was really nice and we sat there with them for a while.

That night my tummy was killing me. I think I ate some icky veggies up north or at Curly’s. And I had to keep going to the bathroom. Boy, I really hate getting sick. And Dr. Brodie’s thousands of miles away – I guess I’ll have to figure something out myself.

The next day we rode to the state capital, Panaji. There’s an awesome enormous white church high on a hill in the city. We went inside to look. There was a funny sign there. It said something like ‘Communion is not a prasad.’ Prasad is the Hindi word for ‘snack’ or something like that. I guess Indian non-Christian people were going to mass and standing in line for free wafers. And the Christian people didn’t like that. I don’t understand what the big deal is. At synagogue we’ll feed anyone who walks in, won’t we?

We ate a huge lunch at Hotel Venite. The place looks really crappy from outside, but inside it’s really old and cool and has that old smell that’s sometimes good. We were starving and the food was excellent.

We rode around the town some more after lunch. We saw a graveyard with lots of graves. I held my breath for a while but then I couldn’t any more. And there were some new gravesites there, some from 2006. That was really sad. The graveyard was next to a big church, and everyone buried there had Portuguese/Christian-sounding names. I think there are still many people like that in Goa.

After riding around the town some more we crashed the pool at the Goa Marriott Resort. You’re supposed to be a hotel guest to use the pool, but I think they let any white people right in. I wonder what happens if black people try to go in. What do you think they do?

The pool was fun. Then we had a coffee at the Panjim Inn, back in Panaji (Panjim is the old Portuguese name for Panaji). Then we rode home to Vagator.

The next day we went to the closest beaches, Vagator and Little Vagator. The former one is full of touts and vendors and Indian package tourists. It was way too crowded. And there were some funny smells. Benji and I swam there for a little while, then we drove down to Little Vagator beach. That was cooler. And we ran into some big kids from Bean Me Up. They were acting a bit slow…one of them said they went to a pharmacy before and found some really neat stuff there. But Benji and I just went swimming. There were some big rocks and then the good swimming place was right between them. Some girls with big bazongas were swimming there too and Benji and I stayed there for a long time. The skin on my fingers got all pruny and stuff. But we still stayed there.

When we came out of the ocean we hung out for a little while with our bunkmates. The girl had taken off her bikini top and she was really letting it all hang out. I think that’s illegal in Goa…but Benji and I didn’t say anything, we just had a look. I didn’t like them, personally. The magazines at 7-11 have much nicer ones.

Then we went to the Shore Bar, where we had gone before. The sun was going down and we wanted to have some ‘sundowners.’ Which is a grown-up word that means ‘drinks when the sun goes down.’ So we did that. And we ate some chips (French fries). I remembered that some dumb US Congressman changed the name of French fries at the House of Representatives mess hall to ‘freedom fries.’ How dumb can you get? What do fries have to do with freedom, anyway?

We did some other cool stuff later in the week. We went to an amazing 200-year-old house/restaurant called Casa Portuguese for dinner. I drank a cashew feni and it was really tasty. We also went to the weekly Anjuna Flea Market and I bought some neat stuff for you – I’ll keep it here till I go home. I hope you like it. It’s a surprise so I won’t tell you what it is. But it’s not alive, don’t worry. And it doesn’t smell bad either. This is what the market looks like:

Benji signed up for an introductory dive course. I already did that stuff so I just hung around the bunk reading. And I went swimming some more. That was really fun. But I miss you. Please write more often. And send comic books too. Do they still make The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers?

Love,

Mike

That was 4 days ago. In that span, I’ve had a simply amazing time doing almost nothing. I checked into Bean Me Up (but am awaiting some better rooms opening up – I’m staying for almost 2 months), I rented a motorbike, and I let the rigors of 4-5 months of traveling wash off me. My first day I hopped on the bike – a 250cc Indian make, not particularly great but serviceable – and went down to Baga beach to laze about and go for a few dips. The ocean’s temperature here is perfect – like bathwater. Bought a cheap shirt so that I could avoid doing laundry as long as possible. Had a late lunch – fresh (I think) grilled prawns with mashed potatoes. Went for another dip after lunch. Went back to the hotel, met the owner Lisa – a very switched-on lady, reminds me of my yoga instructor in Tokyo, Leza. Perhaps there’s something about these American women who post themselves far away in non-obvious spots, running a business and blending in with the local scene.

Went for a run as the sun set, my first run in a few weeks. Felt the pain…my lungs and stamina were pretty weak. Vowed to run regularly, now that I was back at sea level. Power went out when I got back, and it was hot, so took a quick cold shower, then hopped on my bike and rode to Mango Tree for a beer and dinner. The 10-minute bike ride cooled me off. And Mango Tree is in one of my favorite parts of Goa…on a stretch of road near the beach with a few restaurants and shops. Cows wander freely in front of the place and it feels out there on the frontier, far from the package tourist scene in Calangute and Baga.

It felt a bit like overnight camp…I wondered if I should sew nametags into my clothes so that they won’t get lost in the wash.

Was getting disillusioned with my motorbike. It was challenging to find neutral gear (necessary to start the damn thing), and in low gears the bike kept stalling. I vowed to switch either to a Japanese bike or to a simple scooter.

The next day I woke up late…it was market day in Anjuna…which has a massive, well-known flea market which consumes Goa every Wednesday. I had lunch at the excellent Shore Bar (see below), where you can sit on a reclining chair and vegetate for hours…while knocking back Kingfishers and reading. I sat there for a couple hours, swam, then walked over to the market.

The Anjuna Market is an experience, but it gets to you. The vendors just don’t understand how to sell to foreigners. It’s all ‘hello friend, where are you from, what is your name, where do you stay, come look at my store…’ Which violates nearly every sensibility we’ve got. Speaking for myself – my ideal shopping experience is to spot a funky display, get intrigued, then browse without having someone breathing down my neck. I don’t want to make friends with the vendor…I really don’t want them to know my name or where I’m staying. My paranoia runs too deep for that. So I rarely buy anything at these markets…but it does occur to me that teaching a ‘Western Retail Science’ course might be hugely lucrative in India/Goa. At least until the usual rip-off artists enter the market two days later and cut the price in half…

On the advice of one of the waiters at Bean Me Up, went over to Nine Bar that night. Wednesday nights are big in Goa – after the flea market, everyone congregates at the main bars, Looda’s, Nine Bar, Paradiso, etc. Nine Bar is heavy on trance/techno music. And tiny joints winking away in the dark, on the patio overlooking Little Vagator Beach. I won’t incriminate myself, but let’s just say that I was later spotted at Mango Tree, wolfing down a large platter of chicken au gratin. I would have sold the motorbike for a plate of food at that point in the evening…particularly given that I had a minor spill on leaving the parking area, due to 1) my crappy motorcycle driving skills and 2) the terrible gear configuration of the bike. Ripped my pants but no blood drawn. Again vowed, this time seriously, to trade the bike in the next day.

At Nine Bar the dance floor was heaving. Most of the foreigners there were tattoo-laden…which always makes me wonder how many people I come across in daily life have tattoos but keep them hidden under clothing. Judging from the crowd at Nine Bar, 93% of Westerners have tattoos…but of course that’s a sampling bias. It’s probably more like 5%, but nearly all of them were at Nine Bar on Wed. night. Smoking funny little cigarettes and ripping apart bags of cashew nuts and potato chips. Long live the Nine Bar!

The next day I met the fellow staying in the room next door, the aforementioned Aussie Benji. It was his first time in Goa – I was planning to tour around the northern section, as soon as I traded my bike. I arranged that, Benji rented a bike from the same vendor, and we set off for Anjuna and points south. Benji was an excellent wingman, and his sunny and spirited disposition reminded me of why I tend to like Aussies. We first went to Shore Bar, got front row seats, and spent the next 3-4 hours having coffees, swimming, chilling, and having a good lunch. Talked to a Scottish fellow next to us – who rolled a large spleef and sucked it right down while eating veg pakoras. The Scot pointed out a guy on the beach who was emerging from the surf in his birthday suit – which is not legal in Goa, despite the generally laid-back nature of the state. Apparently this guy is insane – he was seen the previous day walking around laughing for no apparent reason. Which doesn’t sound insane to me, just happy – but I understood.

Eventually moved on to Baga Beach, which was a bit more crowded but still entirely pleasant. Had a beer, got a snack, lazed in the surf, and watch the sun go down.

Goa has stunning sunsets. Which does not set it apart from many Asian locations – the difference is that the other places usually can thank air pollution for their sunsets. Manila Bay is famous for having multi-hued vistas, brought on by its millions of belching cars and trucks…

At 7 p.m. we went over to Nine Bar. Much quieter this time…no flea market that day. Benji and I had a few beers and chatted about life. We talked about Bean Me Up and decided we both liked it immensely. The restaurant opens on Halloween with a big party. Benji said that his buddy in Sydney (half-American, half-Mexican…I love it) has great Halloween parties – and said that Halloween is the start of summer in Oz. Which is a funny thing…I’ve spent a lot of time in the Southern Hemisphere, and have become used to the reality of spending Christmas/New Years at the beach…but have never thought of Halloween in the South as bringing on summer. And Benji said that Easter is the closer…like we in the States look at Memorial Day and Labor Day as the bookends to summer.

That’s about it for this week. Couldn’t be enjoying Goa more…you’ve gotta get over here sometime, it’s a special kind of place. It’s now Friday, and I’m looking forward to a wild and wonderful weekend spread across the beach, cafes, dance clubs, and who knows what else…Goa really has so much to see, it’s an entire state and I’ll have my hands full for the next 7 weeks. Perhaps I should consider this period a ‘scouting trip.’

Oh yeah…I’m still working my way through the Bill Bryson book ‘A Short History of Nearly Everything’, and some of the concepts in there are hard to fathom. I won’t bore you with everything of note, but one bit stood out for me. Which is this: atoms are incredibly long-lived, and they don’t perish when the animal or plant which they’re part of dies. They are recycled ad infinitum…and show up again and again in subsequent generations. So get this: everyone living today – all of us – have huge numbers of atoms from previous generations, and one scientist has estimated that all of us have around a billion atoms from historical figures like Shakespeare, Genghis Khan, etc. So Mike Slone has a billion atoms that were once part of Jesus Christ. Not sure how that makes me feel…cosmic, I suppose. The catch is that it takes a while for the atoms to move around – so Elvis’s atoms are not yet spread around and I might not have any of those. Chew on that for a while and get back to me.