Reefer Gladness!
Welcome to this, my 30th entry in this blog. Hard to believe that I’ve managed to fool so many of you into sticking with this bile for so long. I suppose you have your reasons for following along…escapism, morbid curiosity, belief in divine retribution, and so forth. Anyway, I’m glad you’re with me on this ride, and I’ll try to keep things interesting – but keep me honest if I flag.
For some reason it took me 5 weeks to notice a local anomaly, namely that the wine shop down the street can’t decide how to spell its own name. The sign from the main road has it as ‘Yeshrupa Wine Shop.’ But when you drive down to the storefront, you’re confronted with three different signs, all with different spellings. There’s the good old ‘Yeshrupa,’ but also ‘Yash Roopa’ and ‘Yashrupa.’ I wonder if the proprietors have a clue. Then again, they probably got the signs for cheap…and when you go from Hindi or Konkani over to English, who knows what the spelling should be? I recall putting together a slide in Japan, in which we were listing the members of our project team. One Japanese member’s name showed up in different places as either ‘Bamba’ or ‘Banba.’ I asked my colleague which was correct…and he said ‘both.’ Japanese doesn’t distinguish between the subtle tonal differences of ‘m’ and ‘n.’ And you’ve probably come across Indians (from India) who call Greenwich Village ‘Greenwich Willage.’ I always thought that was odd, and a bit annoying, till I came out here and figured out what was going on.
Went to a party on Thursday night with Lisa, the owner of Bean Me Up, where I’m staying, and Umang the crazed conga player. Finally, a chance to depart from the bar scene and dig into the fabric of old hippie Goa. And that’s pretty much what I found. Old freaks and next-gen freaks were in abundance at the party, which was held in the spacious house of an American expat who bore a slight resemblance to Allen Ginsberg. Some mediocre, and then poor Indian red wine (Grover, then Riviera) was flowing – I helped that process right along. Late in the evening the music revved up and a number of us started dancing around merrily…some fun young chicks from the States and the UK, a couple older hippies, Umang and I. In the darkened corners of the room a couple chillums (read: weapons of mass pot smoking) were blazing away…the smoke drifted over to the dance floor, seeped into my pores, and I was well on my way towards satori. A very fine night, in all.
The next day was my monthly ‘financial day,’ in which I attempt to balance my virtual checkbook and clean up my portfolio. Quite a counterpoint to the previous evening’s merriment. But the influence carried over…I got rid of a few laggard stocks and bought some ‘green’ securities which will probably perform miserably, but make me feel like a true global citizen and do-gooder, at least for a few weeks…
Got back to my hotel room and was confronted by an insect problem. I had noticed periodic gatherings of tiny ants on the floors and walls, not something that really bothered me. I attempted to maintain a Buddhist life-loving perspective on the matter, but this time the ants were in full battle regalia and they were accompanied by something that resembled a scorpion. I called in a houseboy (nice, huh?) and together we cleaned things up, largely via the use of a hose that washed all the suckers straight into the shower. Perhaps the highlight was following a hunch and moving the wastebasket…behind which loomed a very large spider which may have been a tarantula. Don’t ask me…all I know is that it was large and hairy. I trained the hose right on it and it slid down into the shower, where I continued to spray it until it was down the drain. This was, of course, after I let out a loud scream and ran into the next room to calm down. I usually don’t get too worked up by insects, and I usually let ‘em live, but this time they pushed their luck and I suspect Lord Siddhartha Gautama will understand my behavior…
Next day, Saturday, I hiked up to Chapora Fort, or the ruins thereof. There’s not much left up there, but the views are spectacular. Gazing south you see Vagator Beach, north the Chapora River and the near northern beaches of Morjim and Morvem. I had ridden north over the river a couple of times, but was now able to put the geography into perspective. You really need to ride inland quite a ways to reach the Chapora River bridge in Siolim, it takes 45 minutes to get to Morjim Beach, but if you took a boat across from Vagator/Chapora it would probably just take 10 minutes. Looking at Morjim Beach, I could see some sand bars with a huge number of birds on them. These areas are where rare Ridley turtles lay their eggs, and the birds eat ‘em right up. Here are a few shots of the scene:
That night Umang and I rode down to Mackey’s Market, a Saturday night bazaar with the usual tchotchkes, questionable fusion music, even more questionable food, and hippies galore. Bean Me Up had its usual booth, so we hung out with Lisa and drank a few beers. Avoided the vendors and just drank beer in order to stay cool in the heat. It’s surprising how well that strategy works, or seems to work – it might just be that my brain is shutting down and I can’t notice the profuse sweat anymore.
Was walking near the canal when I noticed a fellow wearing, oddly enough, the #34 jersey of Paul Pierce, the best player (and captain) of the Boston Celtics basketball team. While the Celtics stink these days, and have for 20 years, they’re still my team…but I did get insight into their fecklessness when I saw this fellow take a big hit off a chillum. If Paul and the boys lay off the weed, they might actually start winning a few games!
After Mackey’s I dropped Umang off in Vagator, and savored every minute of the ride, which really cooled me off. Motorbike rides and the ocean have been my saviors in times of heat – some days I do little more than alternate between the two. After dropping Umang I still felt energetic, so rode down to Club Cubaba, which is Goa’s most happening club and quite a scene – it’s at the top of Arpora Hill and attracts a glitzy crowd (and me). Befriended a bartender there – his name is Om, appropriately enough – and proceeded to knock back a series of very stiff gin & tonics. Convinced myself that this was necessary in order to prevent malaria – kept drinking. Found myself surrounded by Russians…the blondes were more than pleasant, but unfortunately were accompanied by bull-necked Ivans who radiated anger and danger. Decided to back off and hang out with Om – and eventually fell in with a crowd of derivatives traders from London. The ride home that night was perhaps a bit more adventurous than it should have been, but I’m sitting here writing this so I guess it wasn’t that bad…
On Sunday I rode down to the state capital, Panjim/Panaji, where I had gone with the Aussie Benji a few weeks back. I wanted to see the movie The Departed, as the Inox theater was closing down the next day for the International Film Festival of India (IFFI). Scored an evening ticket, then bopped around and did a few things. Crashed the pool at the Marriott, as Benji and I did before. Very civilized. As I vegetated in the crisp waters I was momentarily startled to hear the soft sounds of Neil Diamond emanating from the restaurant inside…and the hits kept coming, it was a Neil Diamond medley right here in Goa and I hummed along with Cracklin’ Rosie and Song Sung Blue. Felt like a weekend in New Jersey.
After cooling off at the Marriott, rode down to the little peninsula of Dona Paula, which someone had recommended to me. A cool little place…promenade and jetty on one side, and the residence of the Governor of Goa on another. The coastline has some excellent houses which reminded me of Double Bay and Vaucluse in Sydney – believe it or not, India has some ritzy areas too. See for yourself:
Had a bit of time before the movie started, so rode around Panjim a bit. Saw a famous statue that I had read about – it’s a man and a woman, and the former appears to be about to murder the latter. Actually, the hombre, Abbe Faria, was a famous hypnotist, and he’s really about to hypnotize the woman at his feet. Whatever. it’s dramatic – take a look:
Enjoyed the movie quite a bit – Jack Nicholson was his usual wild self. The setting was Boston, and I was reminded of how sordid my hometown really was and is. Boston seems to be hot these days…Mystic River was also set there. Of course, if Hollywood really wants to get down and dirty, all they need to do is ask me about my time at Tufts University…
Left the theater around 9 p.m. Drove into Pananji for some dinner. En route observed an argument between some shopkeepers, mediated by a cop in a van. After a few minutes, the cop just got fed up and drove away. And the gladiators gave up and went back to their miserable shops and dreamt of better days…
Ate dinner at the Texas Restaurant, which was mentioned in my guidebook. Let’s just say that the only evocation of the state of Texas was the ridiculous cowboy hat-and-boot outfits worn by the waiters. The food was almost entirely Indian and Chinese…you’d have thought that some Mexican would have been included, but no. I ate some chow mein, said ‘yee ha,’ and took off. Worth a laugh, though…
Went to yoga class the next morning. I’ve come to grips with the class…it puts me through the paces and is keeping me fit. I sweat like a motherfucker in the heat of Goa, afterwards I stick my clothes into a laundry bag and tie it shut. But I do miss the subtle spiritual aspect my Tokyo teacher Leza brought to her class. Leza is also a poet and often reads from her works during class, and she has a sense of the world and herself which is refreshing. Wise beyond her years, methinks. My Goa teachers are much more basic and grounded in the moment, but I can accept that, at least for now. Soon, when I learn the meaning of life and how to dominate the universe, I will crush them like the worthless ants in my hotel room!
Drove home after yoga class, spaced out, and drove a bit close to a meandering cow…who spooked and nearly charged me. I swerved and managed to get away, but it was a meaningful lesson in staying alert while riding a highly unstable instrument of (my) destruction.
Was reading a Goa guidebook that night and saw an ad for ‘Big Peckers,’ a local chicken restaurant. I imagine they also serve cocktails.
Finally, I’ll wrap this posting up with yet another recitation of random bits encountered during the week:
• Trivia question: the Japanese economy is approximately the size of which of the following economies? (answer provided at end of entry – don’t peek)
A. China
B. China, India, Australia, and SouthEast Asia combined
C. India plus Australia
D. Detroit, London, and Paris combined
E. China plus India
• Finally became a paying member of Classmates.com and Reunion.com, mainly because old classmates had sent me emails therein and I had to pay to read ‘em . Extortion, pure and simple. So I joined each for a year, and read the emails. I do enjoy re-connecting with friends from 20 years ago…it at least allows me to take a step back and consider the many paths through life…and whether my choices have been good ones. Noticed that a few people had searched my profile, and I checked to see who they were. Turns out that my old girlfriend, and junior year prom date, had checked my profile the day before…and she checked it again a few days later. The Japanese have an expression for this sort of stuff: ‘kimoy,’ which roughly translates to ‘creepy’ in English. Gave me the chills…not in a positive way. And her thumbnail (I didn’t want to check her profile, as she’d then know that I did so and perhaps escalate measures) indicated that she’s dating – there’s a red heart next to her name. Not kimoy, but very cheesy. Seems I’m being cyber-stalked. Oh well…I guess I can always call up Jack Nicholson and he’ll take care of matters.
• Got a stash of magazines sent from Boston. The recent New Yorkers have been particularly superb. The October 16 edition had an article on Thomas Paine, who famously penned ‘Common Sense’ and helped underpin the American Revolution. Turned out that Tom had an active post-Revolution life…he journeyed to London, then Paris, where he observed the craziness of the French Revolution. Paine proceeded to write ‘The Rights of Man,’ which built on ‘Common Sense’ and proposed political rights and equality for the common man. That was generally well-received, with the usual dissenters. But he was a bit ahead of his time (and ours?) with ‘The Age of Reason,’ wherein he panned the notion of God-given scriptures such as the Torah and Koran, instead perceiving a nature-based God who spoke to all mankind. That got him in some trouble. According to one biographer, Ben Franklin’s funeral had 20,000 mourners; Paine’s had 6.
• The October 23 New Yorker had an even more interesting piece on water. Certainly worth checking out this article online, it may still be there. Anyway, the factoids were flying fast and furious in there. Put these in your bowl…
– If you take into account the water required to grow a coffee plant, brewing one drop of coffee requires a thousand drops of water. Agriculture/irrigation is by far the biggest water hog.
– Growing a ton of grain to feed cattle requires a thousand tons of water.
– A ton of cattle requires 15,000 tons of water.
– 1,300 gallons of water go into the production of a hamburger; a steak requires double.
– Every day, 100,000 Indians join the country’s middle class, and are eating out relatively often. Chicken and lamb consumption are skyrocketing, with consequences for the water supply. Eep!
Answer to trivia question: B (China, India, Australia, and SouthEast Asia combined), amazingly enough. I must have sort of known that, innately, but when you size up a nation of 126 million against a set of nations comprising something like 2.5 billion people, that’s jaw-dropping. So while China and India are the growth drivers these days, you can probably still make some serious loot in Japan…and on that note, let me go off and check my new Kyocera shares. Watch out for Boston gangsters and cyber-stalkers…
Tags: Travel
mbsloney
Enjoying your GOA stories while shivering in the -7c temps here in Seattle. Thanks you bastard. 🙂