Arise to Song…
Apologies for last week’s rant…sort of. My friends’ visit wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be, but it could have been better – and when it comes time to write my weekly slog entry, I write what I feel in the moment, warts and all. Come to think of it, ‘warts and all’ would probably be the right name for this slog!
While my friends were safely ensconced for two days in the (presumably) zero-bacteria environment of the Taj Aguada Hotel, I took a deep breath and settled back into a semblance of normalcy. Went running for the first time in a week. Took Lisa and Richard out to dinner at the very chintzy Fiesta Restaurant in Calangute. This place makes for a nice night out – it’s stylish and tropical, with good (but not exceptional) food Lisa and Richard know the owners, a stunning former model and her husband (apparently named Manic – I love it). After the meal, I went in search of the bathroom, which was well-hidden…and while I was busy L & R took care of the hefty bill. I was fairly annoyed, as I had invited them out and they had also paid for our previous night out. Anyway, I’m around a while longer and will take them out for another splash sometime soon…
Kept up with the yoga. I’ve made some progress – I can do a headstand now, and my stomach is a bit stronger, allowing me to do the boat pose without screaming in bloody agony. We’ll see if I maintain my resolve over the next few weeks. I have a feeling I’m just a twice-per-week yogi…
On Saturday after yoga, in a state of near-starvation, I motored over to Lila Café, which is probably the best brunch spot in north Goa. Had a meat-laden feast – Hungarian goulash soup and a croissant with waterbuffalo ham. Better than it sounds, really. Then rode around looking for an outfit called Jungle Guitars, which sells instruments and also runs a class on how to make a guitar. That would be fun, methinks. I’ve been meaning to take up the guitar again – I played a bit when I lived in New York and had learned to read music, but that was so long ago. I think this initiative will remain on ice for the time being – to really get back into it would require a long-term stay somewhere with soundproof walls so that I could practice. And I seem busy enough these days with my other interests. So I wasn’t that unhappy when I couldn’t find the Jungle Guitars shop…
Curt and Marta came back to Bean Me Up on Saturday afternoon. I was off doing a few things so we met at Ozran Beach, where they were sitting in a little restaurant having lunch. It soon became apparent that they had benefitted from staying at a 5-star establishment for a couple days…it was probably the most peace and quiet they had had, and would be getting, for a long time. And it seemed to me that they had calmed down and were also less fixated on topics like baby-naming and in which city, London or Madrid, should they live. In turn, I relaxed and felt less like a minder and more of a friend.
Took ‘em to Ingo’s Saturday Night Bazaar that evening. They were flying back to Europe the next afternoon and I wanted them to have a final blowout Goan experience. Marta rode with me to the fair, and en route apologized for her and Curt’s behavior during the prior week. She indicated that they understood it was pretty annoying for me to serve as their babysitter, and that I might not be particularly engaged in lengthy discussions on baby-naming, etc. I was glad that I wasn’t alone in thinking that – and appreciated the apology. As I’ve said before, I should be more empathetic – learning you’re pregnant while in India must be a shocker. Still, displaying near-total self-absorption is pretty poor form and it looks like my friends recognized that reasonably quickly. When we got to the fairgrounds, Curt made some noises about us hanging out late-night after Marta had turned in. Perhaps my previous comment to them about Curt becoming overly serious had sunk in…
They bought a bunch of things at the fair for their relatives…we watched the Prem Joshua Band play a few songs in preparation for their big blow-out show the next night at Hilltop. A few of the BMU staff were sitting on the ground in front of the stage – it was a bit of a BMU reunion. The band played well and the crowd was into it – I imagine most of them showed up on Sunday night for the main event.
Marta was getting tired, so we rode back to BMU and she turned in. Curt and I rode down to the hippie enclave of Chapora for ‘a drink,’ which turned into a bit more. I think Curt had made an effort to take a step back over the past two days – he seemed more his old playful self and we talked for a few hours, in Chapora and at BMU, about old stories and ‘what’s next.’ I don’t think I’ve laughed so much and so hard in a while, and I’m 99% sure Curt hadn’t either…he later told me our talk helped ‘screw his head back on straight.’ We’ll see how long that lasts…
This whole experience did make me think hard about how we wall ourselves off and grow stern as we age. Where are our inner childlike selves, where do they go? I’m no better than anyone else in this regard…I’ve just got fewer constraints and less stress than most, so I can bring forth my playful nature more easily. But I often find myself racing around frantically taking care of errands, and I wonder how to chuck the dayplanner and just go with the flow, at least for a few days. I think what I need is a three-week trek in the Himalaya to clear out the cobwebs and refocus…just me, a couple guides/porters, a few friends, a camera and a notebook. Am putting this on the calendar (just kidding) for May…
Curt and Marta checked out midday Sunday. I was feeling better about their visit, now that I’d affirmed that Curt hadn’t lost his soul. But one final bit of torture remained. They were short on cash, and I told them to just settle the bill with a credit card. The first one (American Express, which isn’t widely accepted here) didn’t work…Curt got a bit anxious, then tried another card, which turned out to be a debit card, not a credit card. Between Curt and Marta, neither of them had a regular Visa or MasterCard. Astounding. They both travel widely, and this was still the case. Debit cards are popular in the UK, and in other parts of Europe, but when you come to India/Asia you’ve gotta prepare for the worst. I wound up quickly driving Curt to a money exchange shop, where he converted pounds and euros into rupees and had just enough to pay the bill and the subsequent taxi to the airport. As I said, one final bit of torture…it would have been nice to part ways on calmer terms, but anyway this is India and if you’re even the slightest bit unprepared, you’re cruising for a bruising. Bring lots of different credit cards, my friends…
Besides saying goodbye to my friends (who, if they actually read these entries, might be pissed off, but at least I’ve provided pseudonyms), the other theme this past week was music. The Prem Joshua Band played a 2-hour gig at the infamous Hilltop on Sunday night. Pretty good show – I went with Lisa, who got me in for free. Talk about knowing how to work the locals – she’s practically one of them, but with enough of a Western edge to scare them when necessary. Some new songs in the mix – the band is recording a live album which should be out this year. Some of the songs were more danceable than others…the final number was ‘Shiva Moon,’ the band’s signature song, which got the audience out of its seats and prancing around merrily. We didn’t stick around after the show, as the parking lot gets crazy.
The next morning, and for the next few mornings, the BMU restaurant staff whistled while they worked. Indian (or perhaps Nepali) songs and chants filled the air at breakfast. I usually just sit there and read or play with my smartphone, but hearing their singing inspired me. I am in India, dammit, and everything should be colorful and exotic here – the sights, the smells, and the sounds. Most of the staff is young and they should have fun at work…Lisa can be a real perfectionist and cracks the whip when she’s around, so breakfast (when she’s still in bed) is a good time for the lads to let loose.
That night Lisa was also in a musical mood, albeit a perverse one. For some reason she had Michael Jackson on the brain…maybe because the chef, Arjun, occasionally calls me ‘Michael Jackson,’ to which I take no offense because I strongly doubt whether Arjun knows what MJ really gets up to. I just tell him I’m not Michael Jackson, I’m Michael Bloomberg, mayor of New York City…he doesn’t quite know how to respond to that and the conversation ends. Anyway, Lisa was singing (softly) ‘Billie Jean’ and ‘The Girl is Mine,’ and I joined in for a few stanzas. Neither of us are into this sort of stuff, but it’s just so campy and 80s that it’s fun to relive the past and dredge this stuff up.
When things at BMU are running smoothly, the place is constant randomness and fun. And I like to think that I contribute my fair share. Lately Bini (headwaiter) and I have had a running gag in which I order things that aren’t on the menu – stuff you’d find in a greasy little dhaba (cafeteria/truck stop). Food like masala dosas (thin Indian crepes with spicy potatos inside), pao bhaji (bread with veg stew), samosas (known to all, I hope), etc. Now that Bini knows the gag, he recommends items to me – pomfret tandoori, chicken tikka, etc. It’s a bit odd, I admit, but we have fun with it. I’d expand the joke and get the other waiters in on it, but they are more serious than Bini and would probably go to the kitchen and actually try to get these things made for me!
Am trying to get through a few books so that when I leave Goa I won’t have to lug ‘em around. My India guidebook is hefty enough. I just finished ‘A Fortune-Teller Told Me,’ and gave it to Richard. I think he’d find it compelling, and perhaps even provoke him to jot down his memoirs. Richard traveled overland from France to India in 1978, and the guy has more stories than time…I feel childlike at his feet. There were others who showed similar spunk and spirit, and who undertook similar adventures, but I imagine most of them are either dead or incapacitated by now. I plan to keep tickling Richard to write up his memories.
Lisa gave me Jon Krakauer’s book ‘Under the Banner of Heaven,’ about the Mormon Church. This gift was unexpected and threatened to complicate my reading plans, so I devoted a couple days to cranking through it. Very good read – I now have a much better grasp of the Mormons and their idiosyncracies, and can sympathize with their tribulations as they were driven from New York all the way to Utah. Bloody history and colorful figures permeate the Mormon past – it’s helpful to have a grasp of the Mormon Church, given that it’s the #1 American-originated religion and there’s a Mormon candidate (Mitt Romney) in this year’s Pres. election.
Speaking of that, I’ve been following the Iowa and New Hampshire ballots with great interest. Obama looked set to take off, but got his wings clipped in NH. And McCain’s still in the race. Both parties are wide open and I think we won’t see any conclusions drawn until Super Tuesday (Feb. 5), and probably even that major date will only lead to some dropouts, but no knockout punches. I need to get on the ‘futures trading’ websites like NewsFutures and TradeSports and see how the public is prognosticating these races. As for me, I’m going for Obama. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of the Clintons. And you already know how I feel about Republicans in general…
Had a jones for Chinese food, so rode the other night to Pagoda in Calangute. It’s a bit of a ride, but I had to satisfy my craving. The night air was quite cool as I rode… particularly at the lower elevations. Then, as I turned off the Anjuna road to head to Calangute, I hit a patch of perfect air. It reminded me of the nights I went running in Cairns…just magnificent. Oftentimes I think I’m quite comfortable, but this time I was certain. The stretch didn’t last that long, but I think I’ll go back for more soon. Oddly, this area is the same place where last year I was driving back to BMU late-night and saw a dog lying in the road, having an absolutely grand time rolling around and playing, full of joie de vivre. Must be something in the air…
Was playing around with my Treo smartphone, and looked at the call log feature for the first time in ages. Turns out that the phone keeps a record of a huge number of past calls…I’m not sure but it looks like every call I made or received is listed there for the past 3-4 years. Incredible. I can scarcely remember some of the people on the log…it’s actually a good record of past girlfriends (and clients) for me. Probably consumes a fair amount of memory, but I’ll keep it for now.
I’m starting to get itchy feet. I’ve been in Goa for a couple months, and was planning to stay until the end of February, but given the other spots in India I want to visit, I might head off a week or two early. Two months might be my ‘magic number’ for staying in one spot…but I’m still enjoying Goa so will push it another month or so. Might head up to Arambol, or down to the south, for a week or so, just to shake things up.
Yesterday was my nephew Jacob’s 4th birthday. Hard to believe the little guy is already that old. I was with him for his 3rd birthday, and do regret missing this one. Sent him a postcard from India, but it hasn’t gotten there, and I fear the Indian Post has lost it somewhere. Anyway, let’s all wish Jacob a very happy 4th birthday. We should all have as much fun as our 4-year-old nephews! Over and out.
Tags: Travel
mbsloney
Good to see that the initial stress of the out of town guests has worn off. If I was such a challenge in Italy, you kept it well hidden. Happy New Year.