The travels begins- Goa & Gokarna

Sunset over Kudly beach

Saturday the 19^th ( Chess and the Israeli. All nighter till 5.45 taxi. Story of the Israeli – guy despresive from commune “12 brothers and sisters” is close to 30 now, with the boy for 12 years. Sectioned at 19, spent 6 months travelling on his fellas funds. Fella’s brother has just been discovered and controversy over the child’s existence.)

                On Saturday day I came to the realisation that the cloths I’d so carefully brought with me (bought en-bulk from Primark) weren’t in fact all helpfull. The light and colourful cotton clothes that can be bought anywhere in India seem to be much more comfortable to where, can be packed tighter and reduce you’re ‘tourist!’ levels when bargain. I was wondering down the Main Bazaar, away from New Delhi Train Station looking for a few casual pieces of clothing for my train journey to Goa. The nice couple Annie and Nicholie were walking down the Bazzar towards me. Annie provides a service as an online shopping helper. She finds people in Sweden what ever Indian cloths they’re looking for, and then ships them across. Annie swoops down on my problem, and walks me to a pokey stairwell decorated in bright cloth. On the way she introduces me to an small grey haired man carrying a chess board. I make plans to meet the man in Sam’s Cafe for a few games. The men in the shop find just what I’m looking for with friendly efficiency, and I go back for some food and a game of chess.

                Chess in Delhi

                I play five games with the old man, Jaiwaid Baqui. Loose, win, loose, win, loose. I think the second I won of my own back, but Jaiwaid played with such mischievous ease that I’m inclined to think he scuttled the fourth game just for the sake of having a final. I’m not sure how much of his story is true, i’ll leave the analysis to the reader.

                Jawaid was 58 when i met him. He looked a decade older. A sportsman when younger, he had every Indian man’s love of cricket and claimed to have played for India’s second division in 1968. He went to Germany for a summer when he was 25, and loved the escape from India. I imagine him then as an adventurous spirit with a sportsman’s confidence. After arriving back in India with the expense of the West on his mind, Jawaid talked to a fruit-wallah about making some fast money. Soon enough he was back on a plain, Gulf Air this time. Flight number 067073, indirect flight from Mumbai to Cairo. He was equipped with a suite and $150 of spending expenses. When he arrived he was told that there was a slight delay and he was put up in a three star hotel for the best part of a week. When the phone call came he put on his suite, pocketed the remains of his money and made his way down to the airport. There, he identified the bag he’d been told to pick up, and walked through the customs. Just before the big green ‘Nothing to Declare’ sign, Jawaid was stopped, searched, and found to have 5 kilograms of opium packed in the suitcase.

                For the next 20 years Jawaid had a lot of time to consider whether it was ill luck or malicious design that stole from him his prime. Why had there not been 10 kilograms of opium like he’d been told? Why had the guards been suspicious of a man in a suit when so many shady individuals were going by. Jawaid maintained that he was used as a tip-bit to placate the police, and that was why there was only half the opium. Why throw good money after bad if 5 kilograms was enough to have him sent down for hard time? For Jawaid prison was a mixed experience. Whilst furthering his education and continuing to play chess were two of the side effects of being a political prisoner, Jawaid also said he underwent a spell of torture when suspicions where aroused that he might have been a Indian spy. Jawaid’s story ends with his analysis of the divide of people in India, two poets he recommended (Rabindara Nath Tagore and Doctor Mohamad Allama) and the quote “prison is the best university.” If that’s the case, I think I prefer the bliss of ignorance.

Sunday the 20^th (Met Burta, Josh, Yan, Natalie)

                Still going strong at my arrival to Goa was this ossilating sense of wonder at simply being in India. Like all emotions this is not original, but it has been a continuous powerfull wave pushing my feet along. It seems that I traded the deep, strong and complex connections of friends, family and the familiar for a freedom of action, and design. Over here it doesn’t feel like there is no one there to help you, rather there is a strong desire to believe that anyone would help you if you just asked. Your thirsty, people share the water. You’re hungry, people will make you some food. The abstract weight of potent choices yet to be made has lain on my soul for a long time now. India has been a southing balm on this wound, and has already revitalised a parched soul. The cares of tomorrow are simply so hard to worry about when today is to serene.

Monday the 21^st

Colva beach

(Must do moonlight swim to see luminescent plankton.)

Tuesday the 22^nd (Gokana. Michail, Yawikan, Yawna, Marcus-beach dance. Philosophy & fire)

                The train stations are a little bit hectic. There’s no sure-fire way to pick your train out against a multitude of early, late and special deliveries. Continuous questioning of chai-wallah’s and tourists is a business conducted indefinitely by everyone travelling, at the same time at least until the train is pulling out of the station. Upon arrival there is a similar mess of confusing variables. Competing taxi drivers, dithering tourists, persistent beggars and departing trains. This melting pot of direction is a great place to meet new people. Upon my arrival in Goa that was Josh, Yan, Burta and Natalie, a group of pleasent German travellers. In Gokana that was a nifty Swedish crowd who i’v had some fun with over the last few days.

                The German Aside.

Yan still had a bit of a limp when I met him from coming of a motorbike. He’d bailed two days prior to our meeting, and is on of three people so far who have shown me there recent motorbike scares. Yan also had the misfortune to do around 10,000 rupees worth of damage to the bike, about £140. Deciding that this money could be better employed making his life a happier place, he decided to post pone the return date of the veircales and make a go of it. The place that we stayed in was run by a guy called Chris, who we got talking to over cheep vodka. His mentality is that he’s walked the fine line between doing crime and not getting caught, and now he has until maybe 65 to enjoy the slow lane. At 65 he intends to start moving drugs in a big way and hopes to do so for a few years so that when he is caught he has enough money to ensure his time in prison resembles retirement. The German’s are also quite sure that the man who leant them the motorbike’s was also a gangster. They had given both gentlemen their passport details, and they had at least two weeks left in the country before they’re departure.

Wednesday the 23^rd  ( French harpUp till 6, wild dog’s.)

                The done thing at night here is to buy a bundle of fire wood, if a fire isn’t already going, get a few small bottles of rum and sit in a circle of fire light with strangers listening to the musicians, story tellers and travelling anecdotes. I find that as nice as it is to be able to talk to people of different cultures through the communal use of English as default language, it is extremely refreshing to be able to speak to someone who’s first language is English. So we sit up wrapped in our longies, which is like a cross between a towel and a scarf, feeding the fire and passing around the poisen’s. The Jewish harp and the didgeridoo are two of the more exotic instruments to be used repeatedly, but some excellent players of the harmonica have also been out strutting their stuff, not to mention the guitarists.

 I’d had a long sleep the night before and having not actually done much with the day I ended up being the last one tending the last fire on the beach. I had seven wild dogs scattered around the fire, presumably comfortable at different temperatures, the stary night and the sea. All in all an idyllic experience, made all the more so by the protection offered by the dogs. Any time a stranger came by they’d sit up and begin to growl until the pitter patter of footsteps side stepped the candle light. The dogs seemed more than fine with my company. I only realised that I had such extensive company when i answered a call of nature that co-insided with the exit of the last few fire-dwellers. When i sat down again one of the pack came and curled up at my feet, between me and the warm fire.

That was also the night when some fire twirler accumulated some practice down by the sea. Spinning chains, poles aflame at both ends, and my personal favourite, the flaming holla hoop. She danced with fire for longer than half an hour, twirling a flame hoop up to the tops of her finger tips, arms out-stretched, spinning a complex flame around her body. That was also the night that performing poet gave repeat renditions. Doing his own stuff and some famous pieces, Peter gave numerous powerful renditions of moving poetry. The fire light danced of the wilderness cadged in his eyes, and he had a thick archaic moustache. Crouched in a pair of shorts with the audience enchanted, the noise of the sea beat a steady rhythm of antiquity providing a strong connection to the depths of time.

Thursday the 24^th (Walk,Yoga)

                We went on a walk to the next beach along called kuddly. We missed the trail which takes 10 minutes, and instead tried to carve our way through raw jungle. I was asked to join this spirit of adventure at maybe 1 o’clock in the afternoon. At 3 o’clock I finally pushed through the jungle of Gokana to see the beach of kuddly. However somewhere along the way I pushed on too quickly and left behind the group I set of with. They arrived at 3.50, having gone back to take an easier turn. I defiantly think that if i’d been part of a larger group it would have taken me much longer as well. At four I left to get back in time for Yoga. For some particular reason i decided that jogging back was a good idea. Without time to change my clothing or cool down, I was one very sweaty yoga man. Yoga took an hour an half and the class was free. However the casual opinion is that it has more in common with stretching after a gym session than it does with actual yoga. However it worked perfectly for me- I got a structured stretch and cool down session.

                That night we made plans to buy the raw ingredients for a grill up the next night, and we decided to buy two identical chess boards to see if we couldn’t invent something resembling a four person game.

Friday the 25^th (BBQ, ingredients, chess board)

                The day started well, with me getting up, ordering food and then meeting a consecutive list of people that I knew who came down to eat with me. After maybe 5 different small dishes me and one of the Swedish lads took to the town via rickshaw, just after 6 o’clock, to buy some vegetables, fish, prawns, cooking utensils, and longies (to sit on.) The Swedish lad, Michael, took the food perperation in hand while I cleaned the utensils and built up the fire. After producing enough glowing coal to last us a goodly while I dug a second small pit next to the first and raked across fuel enough for cooking the fish ext. Though it was in fact a lot more expensive when all tallied up, this meal produced a much greater sensation of satisfaction in me than any of the others I’d had so far. It turns out that not only do I miss cooking, but that I love cooking in the most rudimentary way possible. A mosquito net is dirt cheap and I already have a hammock. I’m pretty sure that if circumstances were different, I could live on this beach indefinitely.

Saturday the 26^th (Writing)

Played a form of double chess which involved four players acting as allied generals. Was an engaging alteration to a game played quite a lot on the shores of Om. Next week there is a large festival in which giant carts, with wheels bigger than Jeeps get pulled through the streets by hand. 

Sunday 27^th (Making bowls) 

Over lunch I struck up conversation with three people making different items, carving wood and braiding animals. An hour later I set of a mission to find myself half of a coconut shell. Job done (via a kit kat milkshake) I spent the whole of the afternoon filling and sanding down a coconut shell to make into a bowl like container. It’ll take a few more hours yet to complete but I hope to have it done tomorrow after a walk to town. Taking the correct paths the walk should only take about 45 minutes. I’v been giving some thought as to how i’ll actually spend the majority of my time in India. There’s been numerous stories about individuals who’ve simply been caught up in some charity organisation or another as and when the opportunity arose. There’s also a place which is pronounced ‘aura-veal’ which is a city 2000 people strong who live in different variants of eco-communities. The thought is that you can join in with the community activities and receive accommodation (though i do have a hammock.) and cheep food. I’ll do some research on the different types of community with the intention of finding one with an ethos that I click with. This aside, I'm going to enjoy seeing the raw strength of the people pulling the carts and the rest of festival celebrations.