Life in Goa

Hi there all, we are now just over a week into our venture and enjoying every minute of our travel so far. Well, maybe apart from getting the girls to do their maths every day. Don't worry, they get plenty of time to play and read and visit markets! Tonight we hit the Friday evening Hilltop market; the girls will hopefully get to do some juggling with a German lady, a friend of Ashley, a global traveller and fire twirler extraordinaire. The markets are at once as they have been described and at once so different. When we first ventured to Mapusa (pronounced Mapsa) Camille was immediately approached and engaged in polite conversation by Partee, an Indian girl. 

She stayed with us as we negotiated the market until we came to her stall where she was keen to show us her wares - trinkets and shawls and the like. It is a business for them afterall, and so we tend to go with the flow and not let the constant approaches bother us too much. After all, it is no more intrusive than ads on the TV channel, special offers from the banks, junk mail from the Telcos, just a more human form of the same... albeit with less control over the approach - you can't just hang up (!) or toss away the latest offer. However our amazing guide Shwetha does in some sense do just that. But the beggars and the stall holders also know their limits, and get the picture if you are not in the frame of mind to “trade”.

I have walked around the general environs of our abode, buying water, butter, and other supplies. Stepping around the dogs, trying to read the rupee price...and generally getting a reasonable deal. Bread and milk arrive by motorcycle to our front doorstep, announced by the 'wocka, wocka' of the horn, usually around 7 am and 9am. Fruit suppliers also ply their trade around the neighbourhood, but are more elusive so far. Gypsie says they come more spasmodically, often passing through Joe Bananas restaurant in the early afternoon. I am writing this little entry from Curlies, a popular beach restaurant and night spot, as I cut my wrist last night when I broke a cup doing the washing up. So swimming on these hot days is off the agenda for me while my body hastens the recovery of my little domestic blemish.

Living here is like glorified camping. We have a squat loo in an outdoor bathroom. It has a cold shower...but no one would want a hot shower here!!. The kitchen has two gas rings for cooking, and a kitchen sink for washing up. Washing up is a bit of an ordeal because the plumbing is well water and we need to rinse everything in boiled water to prevent stomach bugs. There is no air conditioning, but big ceiling fans somewhat cool and circulate the air, also acting as mosquito repellent! An ancient fridge provides for cold storage and three beds and assortment of chairs provide resting, reading and contemplation points. The yard is full of plants; breadfruit, banana trees and coconut palms 

and a multitude of colourful flowers and foliage, which can be enjoyed from the veranda which fronts the entrance side of our temporary home. Internet connection is provided meters away, at Gypsie's place. Not always a reliable service, but then neither is the electricity, however it does the job often enough to keep us in some contact with you all. The eaves of the house are not closed off and there are gaps under the door which provide an avenue for interaction with the outside elements... the local fauna including geckos, large multi-coloured spotted frogs, various bugs including mossies, and the noises from beach parties and passers-by. Frances happened upon a rat snake in the garden which is harmless but with glee Bob told us about his encounter with a cobra around the corner at the internet cafe!!

As I look out on the ocean view now, I see King Uncle's passenger ferry/boat passing along the beach, topless men and women idling in the sun, colourful fishing boats bobbing to the rhythm of the waves, two lifesavers patrolling the beach, beach chairs and umbrellas lining the front of the restaurant and weak haze hugging the ocean's horizon.

I hear bubblings of German, French, Hindi, English, Russian, Israeli and so forth, muffled coughs, squawking birds, a mild seabreeze causing the 'tacka tacka' of the tossing palm fronds, waves crashing the shore, cries of delight from Abbey and Frances. Pameela will pounce on them as soon as they get out of the water but they love her fresh cocoanuts so they'll be happy customers... and oh no, just heard the boys in the back winding up the mood music. At this time of day, the mix is somewhat ambient. Later on, it turns techno and loud, for the party crowd. Wafts of cooking are just starting to register with me, people are starting to order lunch, and I am getting the munchies myself, so adieu for now!

Gerard