Wanderlust Heaven!

Took a ride on Thursday up to Arambol Beach, one of the northernmost areas and an enclave for stoned Israelis and their brethren, as you can probably tell here:

The beach itself is pretty scenic…and the cliffs nearby harbor a slew of hotels, shacks, bars, and shops. As I walked along the cliffside path I was offered drugs by at least 5 people…including an old woman. The old woman drug dealer approach may be a good one – the cops might not suspect it, and even if apprehended the judge would probably slap her on the (osteoporotic) wrist…

I had gone for the ride to help clear my head. The previous night I had gone to Nine Bar with a friend of Umang’s named Monesh (Mo), and a couple English lasses we met at Bean Me Up. It had been a fairly long night and we had had fun with the girls, one of whom was a British Airways attendant based in Dubai. On the ride up to Arambol, deep in thought (or in a daze) I was startled by a couple of beasts hopping across the road. Were they kangaroos? Come on. Dogs? Too rangy. Actually, they were big-ass monkeys, probably running away with some loot from a tourist or shop. They climbed up a house to the roof and made a clean getaway…and I drove on.

Got back to Vagator, did a couple errands, and went down to the beach. The hordes of Indian tourists were already there, so I walked to a far corner of the beach and camped there. I was wading into the ocean when I noticed an elderly Indian fellow sitting on the beach nearby. He was sitting calmly in a cross-legged, almost lotus position, and had his arms akimbo. I thought he was practicing yoga – but he was just talking on his mobile. Should have known…

While relaxing in the waves I took a few minutes to marshal my thoughts and synthesize some observations that have been emerging recently. I’ll mention a few of those here.

First, while this place (India) is often maddening, it gives you what you need. There may be no place on Earth where it’s more difficult to take care of a stupid little task – buying some tape, for instance. Or, better yet, let’s examine a recent episode where a waiter took my order, for one thing, walked off, and came back 3 minutes later to confirm what I had ordered. He carried no pad of paper with him, of course. And let’s not overlook the annoyances associated with obtaining and charging a SIM card here. But yet, it all works out just fine…as long as you aren’t coming in suffering from hypertension or anxiety. If you are…well, don’t come to India. The magic of this place reminds me of an overused Buddhist proverb which says that the teacher appears when the student is ready. The magic of India only really works for those who are ready to experience it.

Most of us aren’t ready to experience it. And that can be absolutely infuriating – I know tourists who have come to India, had crappy experiences, and left almost immediately. The locals are by no means exempt. Right now the International Film Festival of India (IFFI) is being held in Goa, and from most accounts it’s been a real cock-up. Hundreds of delegates, presumably VIPs, have been unable to attend key screenings because organizers (if that’s the right term) have given out tickets far in excess of the theaters’ capacity. The streets outside the cinema looked like they were hit with bombs. And so forth…

But the India magic has had a positive, almost transformational effect on yours truly, to get to my second observation. I’ve felt completely relaxed and free of tension in the past couple weeks, for the first time in years. Perhaps it’s simply that I’ve been in one spot and not traveling like mad…but I think it’s more than that. I’ve got to grudgingly admit that having some sort of routine is a good thing…it can make one predictable and boring, but it also creates an ordered space in which to get things done. I’ve been going to yoga class and running regularly in the past couple weeks. I’ve been eating good healthy veggie fare from Bean Me Up. I’ve been getting my laundry dropped off and picked up in time. And my body feels great…beer belly is almost gone, my arm and leg muscles are more defined than they’ve been in years, and I’ve got more energy than in the past. Maybe spending time here, like this, can help reverse the aging process. And if it doesn’t, well, I can always try the Atkins Diet!!

Third, I’m only now truly realizing what an information hog I am, and probably have always been. Or re-phrasing that slightly – I love to learn and need to keep that up. Every month my family’s been sending my mail over from Boston, and those ‘care packages’ include The New Yorker magazines and a few others. I’ve already mentioned the bounty of The New Yorker. My head just swims as I work my way through each edition…a recent one had a piece on The Drake Equation. The Drake Equation was developed by Frank Drake in 1961 as a way to focus on the factors which determine how many intelligent, communicating civilizations
there are in our galaxy. The Drake Equation is:

N = N* fp ne fl fi fc fL

The equation can really be looked at as a number of questions:

N* represents the number of stars in the Milky Way Galaxy.
Question: How many stars are in the Milky Way Galaxy?
Answer: Current estimates are 100 billion.

fp is the fraction of stars that have planets around them.
Question: What percentage of stars have planetary systems?
Answer: Current estimates range from 20% to 50%.

ne is the number of planets per star that are capable of sustaining life.
Question: For each star that does have a planetary system, how many planets are capable of sustaining life?
Answer: Current estimates range from 1 to 5.

fl is the fraction of planets in ne where life evolves.
Question: On what percentage of the planets that are capable of sustaining life does life actually evolve?
Answer: Current estimates range from 100% (where life can evolve it will) down to close to 0%.

fi is the fraction of fl where intelligent life evolves.
Question: On the planets where life does evolve, what percentage evolves intelligent life?
Answer: Estimates range from 100% (intelligence is such a survival advantage that it will certainly evolve) down to near 0%.

fc is the fraction of fi that communicate.
Question: What percentage of intelligent races have the means and the desire to communicate?
Answer: 10% to 20%.

fL is fraction of the planet’s life during which the communicating civilizations live.
Question: For each civilization that does communicate, for what fraction of the planet’s life does the civilization survive?
Answer: This is the toughest of the questions. If we take Earth as an example, the expected lifetime of our Sun and the Earth is roughly 10 billion years. So far we’ve been communicating with radio waves for less than 100 years. How long will our civilization survive? Will we destroy ourselves in a few years like some predict or will we overcome our problems and survive for millennia? If we were destroyed tomorrow the answer to this question would be 1/100,000,000th. If we survive for 10,000 years the answer will be 1/1,000,000th.

When all of these variables are multiplied together when come up with N, the number of communicating civilizations in the galaxy. Depending on the inputs, you can come up with almost anything, but I’ve seen estimates ranging from 100 to 10,000. More than a few, anyway. So get your computers powered up and link in with SETI’s network to find our friends out there!

There was also an article on an old movie short called The Powers of Ten, in which an initial camera shot of a man lying down in a park was taken back ten times (i.e., the second exposure was from ten times the distance as the first), and each ensuing shot was ten times the distance from the previous. They somehow were able to go back to 10 to the negative 24th power. That sounds like quite a ride…so I got on Amazon.com and ordered the movie, which was put out by a couple brothers, Charles & Ray Eames, who were into that sort of thing Now that my return to the States is nigh, I’ve been getting on Amazon and preparing to order a slew of books/movies to greet me when I arrive. Amazon is perhaps my greatest addiction…

Even with my initial quality filter operating, I do find it necessary to separate the wheat from the chaff as I go along. I just read Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. You may have heard about this book, the author supposedly escaped from an Aussie prison, got to Bombay, and became a figure in the local underworld and film scenes. The story is rollicking…but the writing is often painfully corny and detracts from the story itself. There’s a lot of sophomoric philosophy in there – lots of ‘Karla once told me that suffering is the inverse of love’ and ‘he wanted to change the world’ types of crap. Boiled down and stripped of the pretentious musings, Shantaram would make a great 2-hour action movie. But the book is 900+ pages and a major commitment. I decided to read it because it concerned Bombay, a city close to my heart. And much of the book rang true about the city…it did remind me of my summer there in ’92, when I too arrived as a bit of a refugee, spent the first few weeks lost in translation, and eventually found my footing and made friends with a cool set of locals and expats who made that time unforgettable. So I’m happy I read this book…and very happy to be finished with it. Try it at your own peril…

Fourth, I’ve increasingly come to realize that I’m fascinated by the inherent oddness and individuality in (many) people I meet. While I’m often crusty and grumpy, my exoskeleton can be peeled away with a bit of effort. Case in point: I was eating at a kebab/biryani place the other night, and while sitting there drinking a Kingfisher and reading Shantaram, a waiter came over and started asking me the usual questions: what country, how long in Goa, first time there, etc. Generally, this is a form of torture and Westerners react badly – myself included. But this time I decided to let things flow, to smile and answer his question, and to avoid my usual impulse to ignore him. And you know, he turned out to be a really nice guy, he’s from Goa and gave me several ideas on places to visit. What I liked about him, and about many Indians, is this: he appears to live mostly in the moment. He was smiling, not anxious, not doing 3 things at once – you know what I’m getting it. I was reading about a global poll about ‘happiness levels’ in different countries. The study covered a huge # of countries, and India came in near the top – whereas most of the Western countries were much lower. I think the US was #70 or so. You really do get a sense that many people in India are curiously happy, despite (because of?) their material circumstances. I wonder if we might distill and bottle their happiness for export…

Along similar lines, I’ve become friendly with Lisa and Richard, who own Bean Me Up. She’s American, he’s French. They’ve been in Goa, and together, for around 20 years. Lisa reminds me a bit of Leza, my American-born yoga teacher in Tokyo. They’re both cool American women who have lived abroad for many years, and have acquired local habits while not losing their basic character. I think they’d get along nicely…I really should work to get them together at some point…perhaps Leza can do a yoga retreat in Goa. Lisa and I brainstormed a bit about expanding her restaurant concept overseas, I think it would work well in certain spots in the States. I haven’t really been in business mode for the past 11 months or so (hard to believe it’s been that long since I left Monitor), but I must admit to writing a Powerpoint slide last night in which I laid out a framework of guiding questions for Lisa and Richard about Bean Me Up and its operations. Powerpoint was my bane at Monitor, and I’ve enjoyed not opening up that application in many moons, but I thought it would prove useful this time, and it did. I certainly don’t mind a bit of pro bono work to keep my brain sharp.

Fifth and finally, I’m still amazed at the ease of communications and global connectability today. When I lived in Bombay in ’92, there was no email or web, and you couldn’t get a foreign newspaper under 3 days old. Trying to follow the Red Sox’ pennant race was like reading ancient history. Now there are Internet cafes everywhere, mobilephones, newspapers, etc. It’s unquestionably a positive thing, but I do find myself consumed by information and some days go by like a flash.

There you have it…my own version of sophomoric philosophy for the week.

What else can I tell you? I went to Ingo’s Market on Saturday Night, it’s like Mackey’s Market except with more of a foreign twist. Typically Indian for there to be two huge night markets on the same night…of course they couldn’t divide and conquer across Friday and Saturday. Anyway, enjoyed the market and ate and drank way too much.

Prem Joshua and Sat came back from their gigs up north, which went well. They were starving for good food, as you can’t even find an egg up in Rajasthan – hardcore vegan diet up there. We’ve been hanging out for the past few days, eating a lot of tandoor kingfish (we made another trip to Souza Lobo), and catching up. I’m heading to Mumbai this Friday (tomorrow) to catch their gig in Bandra there. I’m only going for one night, then back on Saturday to Goa. I’ll only have one more week in Goa and I want to spend it in high (or low) style.

Prem and Sat, and Umang as well, have all become good friends in my 6-7 weeks here in Goa, and I want to see them again before too long. I think we’ll stay in touch and perhaps even collaborate on something creative in the future.

Rode up to Fort Aguada a few days ago. This was a major Portuguese fort back in the day, and watches over the entrance to the Mandovi River from the Arabian Sea. It’s a huge place, and sits atop a huge aquifer, which made it nearly impervious to sieges. ‘Aguada’ is Portuguese for ‘water.’ It was never taken by force, but the British did push out the Portuguese for several years, in order to prevent the French from down south (Pondicherry) from coming up and invading Goa. When the British left, the Portuguese moved back in. The history of the Konkan and Malabar coasts is something else – almost every major Euro power stuck its hand in the cookie jar at some point in time.

At the bottom of the hill sits the Aguada Jail. Word has it that amongst the prisoners are a few foreigners convicted of drug offenses – lucky them. I only was able to see the entrance, but that was more than enough to remind me of why I love my freedom. I was riding along to it, then remembered that I had a couple things with me that might prove incriminating in the proximity of a jail, so I deposited them under a bench for a few minutes while I went exploring. Here’s a shot of a place you don’t want to know any better than this:

Went to the Anjuna Market yesterday. The usual collection of freaks, stoners, shoddy goods, and bad food…all in the shimmering haze of brutal humidity. But you’ve gotta go at least once, and from time to time, just to take in life’s grand parade. Saw a woman there who had gummed up here hair into one large clump…looked like a rhino’s horn.

As I was walking back to my motorbike I felt something on the sole of my left Teva, and upon examination noticed that the sole has a rip. That was a psychic blow, despite my supposed lack of attachment to material goods. My Tevas have been huge assets during this trip, probably the MVPs come to think of it. And now they’re almost done. Something else to go and buy when back in the States…

Went to the chemist (pharmacy) to get some drops for my ear, I’ve had a few flare-ups after my initial earache. While I was waiting in line I noticed a couple of interesting offers to consider:

I rode back to Bean Me Up after sunset. The road home is very bumpy and full of potholes, some of which I couldn’t avoid. After one nasty bump my headlights went out…the highbeams were OK, so was forced to use those. And the turn signals had gone out a few days before, for the second time. You really get what you pay for…but at least I can use these problems as negotiating leverage with the bike rental fellow, Mogambo. Whenever he sees me he tries to collect another tranche of rental money from me…and my approach is always to pre-empt him with a complaint about the condition of the bike (largely caused by my aggressive handling of said machine), and to tell him I’ll pay when the bike is fixed. Then we don’t see each other for a few more days, and the dance begins anew. But I do need the lowbeams and I think I’ll go and see Mogambo right after typing this sentence. So to all of you, blue skies, green lights, and peaceful nights. See you next week.