A Day with Deepu and Amrose

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A day with Deepu and Amrose

The morning starts like most others power cut. The whirring of the AC, is no longer and we are instantly reminded of where we are. It’s about 8.30am the roosters have been crowing for just about as long as the motorbike horns have been tooting, the day has definitely started. The streets are a buzz with activity, mostly locals though; most of the tourists are more than likely nursing hangovers from the long night of drinking extremely cheap alcohol. Kingfisher- the beer we drink round here is very cheap in Goa, no alcohol tax, so a 600ml bottle is 50 rups, about $1.50 Australian. Even cheaper for the Brits and Europeans and I’m sure its just of cheap for Israeli’s for which there are so many of. In fact every restaurant here in Palolem has specialty Israeli dishes to cater for the hundreds that arrive here every season. They even have a dedicated guest house. I guess that some things are the same world over, communities sticking together that is. The same routine every morning, the fruit and veg truck arrives, stocks up the only fruit and veg shop in town, shop keepers sweeping the front of their already incredibly dusty shopfronts in an effort to move the dust a little further down the road so the next shop keeper has to deal with it, then the ritual throwing of water over the dusty patch of concrete outside the shop in the hope that no more dust will enter their store. All of which is vain, for as soon as the sun rises over the main strip and the heat is felt, everything turns to dust again. Add this to the fact that most of the street side vendors have dirt floors; it leaves you wondering why they would even bother… It’s impossible to keep anything free of dust, our faces and hair included. Its funny after most days the only part of our faces that are clean is the part shielded by our sunnies, sort of reminds me of those old F1 drivers in the 60’s and 70’s when they take off their racing goggles, just this dark face with white around the eyes.

For us the morning routine is familiar, down to cool breeze to have breakfast with Paulo, whose awaiting news of his UK residency, hopefully early December. I hope so; he is like most others, is such a gentle family man who just wants a better life for his family. Paulo knows our order just as well as we know that there’s no pineapple juice if the powers out. Eggs and toast for sir, madam is for the most part undecided until she is seated, so patiently he waits for Mel to peruse the breakfast menu again, will it be marmite with her toast or fruit salad. No today its fruit salad, coffee and toast. Coffee, don’t think espresso machine, the best you’ll get around here is stove top peculated, or if you happen to go to Cheeky Chapatti (an english owned and run café) plunger coffee, which is good. I miss my short mac’s though, there’s nothing quite like a rich layered creamy coffee. At around 9.30 we stroll down to Cuba, restaurant/café/bar down the road where we are to meet Deepu and Amrose, for a journey around their Palolem. Powers back so fresh pineapple juice all round, it’s so hard to resist, the fruit tastes like it should and the pineapples are some of the sweetest I have tasted and I’ve been to the Big Pineapple in Qld twice.
And so the journey begins. We pack our pack, jump on the Enfield and motor out of town. Deepu has forgone the scooter rental for today and Amrose has said bugger the fishing dad, I’m heading out with me mates. First stop Hanuman temple ( the monkey god, with super human strength, able to leap from could to cloud in a single step), I don’t quite know how old this temple is, but as Deepu was explaining it used to be way out in the jungle, now it appears that civilisation is upon its door step. What has taken 20mins by bike, I’m sure would have been at least a 3 hour trek in days gone by, as the temple is over a fairly steep mountain range and tucked in the valley below. This is a special place, not only is it a temple but also a school of religious teaching, the monastery attached is the size of most urban high schools, with just as many priests in training as there would be students. Here I thought I would be steeped in tradition and ancient practises, class rooms full of scholars reading form ancient text and writing in time forgotten Sanskrit, to my surprise and a little disappointment, the first classroom we peered into, the students were being taught calculus, and instead of a calligraphers broad tipped pens, there were calculators and bic biro’s. I’m sure that my vision of ancient wisdom was still happening in here somewhere amongst the maze of rooms and corridors; well I’d like to think so any way. It was prayer (pooja) time, so we weren’t allowed much further than the front door, but the chants and rhythmically drumming, coupled with the shrill of high pitched bells certainly made us feel as if we were a part of what ever was going on. There was a constant stream of people with offerings entering the temple; all of those who had left were marked with the red dot on their foreheads which is so stereotypical Indian in our western world. Yet this has very special significance here, a sign that today you have been to the house of God. Whichever one that may be, there are so many over here, it’s fascinating whilst also extremely difficult to remember and pronounce, in the fluidity and ease of which the native peoples do.

Not far from here is another national park; I must admit that in this tiny state there are reserves and wildlife protection zones everywhere. It’s refreshing to see a culture that in all of its drive towards being a new world economy, has not forgotten the importance of preserving their national treasures, people, monuments and wildlife included. My hat goes off to you India, job well done. This is jungle in the truest sense of the word, thick rainforest vegetation, vines spiralling down or upwards from the canopy above, running water and streams, the whole lot oh yes and the humidity, it just wouldn’t be the same experience with out it. More tigers that we never saw, loads of buffalo along the roadside, the occasional black faced lemur and plethora of insects most of which fly, the others firmly on the ground. Spiders everywhere, small ones and some extremely large ones, large enough for me to be glad that I have a 10x optical zoom because there was no way I was getting with jumping distance of anything that has eight legs and has a body that is as large as my hand.

Every national park has some steadfast rules; you have to pay a park entrance fee, minimal 5 rups, a fee if you have a still camera 25 rups, a different fee for a video camera 150 rups and a count of water bottles you take in. Now my camera is both still and video, so as not confuse that matter and to avoid a the usual, phone calls, discussion’s amongst themselves and then the mandatory hierarchical approval, which takes a good 20 mins if the hierarchy doesn’t have to attend the scene to verify the technology, I paid the 150 rups and left it at that. Deepu and Amrose were well disappointed, I mean after all this is India and for the most part most people will try and get away with whatever they can, they wanted me to do the Indian thing, tell them it was a still camera and chuckle to myself as I walked past the check point knowing full well it’s a video. Not for me, I just couldn’t be bothered with the ensuing aftermath of bribing my way out of it if I got caught. It was worth the 200 rups it cost us we saw and experienced some amazing things.

Maybe it is because I’m away from home, but I saw so much more than I would normally, the different fungi growing of fallen branches, the sheen of the spider webs atop of what I’m positive was a cobra’s den, the multitude of birds throughout the canopy above right down to the brown frogs which are almost nearly impossible to spot if it hadn’t have been for Mel’s shrieks as they jumped to safety, out of the way of us heavy footed humans. The ride throughout the park was just as amazing as the wildlife within it. Down rocky bumpy, dusty tracks, the Enfield was certainly earning its keep; although not perfect for this environment it was better than the boys’ scooter. Not as pleasant for the boys ahead, their city bike was much closer to the ground and no where near as much height or suspension to allow them to traverse this uneven path without the jarring of the spine. At some points we were reduced to an idle crawl as the terrain started to assert its right of passage over us. All in all, it was a much better way to travel than the orchestrated guided tours along sealed roads in the more popular tourist destinations. Rough and very real, just how I like it. After a bumpy 15 min ride we turn down a track which is meant to be walked, only to be stopped by beam across our path, it was off the bikes and on foot from here. 20 min hike through the jungle and we reach a towering tree, atop of which was a watching station, three separate ladders joined together around the trunk was the only way up. Deepu was first, obviously the height was not as much as a problem as it was for Amrose and Mel. I had sort of guessed someone would not make it and so waited patiently down the bottom, content to go last and make it to the top. I was right, it didn’t take Amrose long, maybe 20 rungs of the ladder and he was scampering back down, Mel went next and was quite chuffed that she had now exceeded her own personal limits, climbing up higher than she ever had before. For someone who does not have a fear of heights, it’s hard to comprehend where the anxiety comes from. I was to learn quickly, for no sooner than I had reached the heights of the previous two, this ladder which is made form solid steel and from the ground looks securely anchored to the trunk began to sway. It swayed enough to make my knuckles turn white and hold on with all I had. But I made it, the scariest part being the final ascent, where there is no safety rail between you and the ground below. Well worth the moment of fear though, there is nothing quite like being amongst the tree tops, looking down on the stream below, If only we were here early morning or late afternoon, I’m sure we would have spotted some amazing wildlife. Oh well, we’ll find a park where we can accomplish this dream.

Some photos at the top and down we come, Deepu being his most playful relaxed self, started shaking the ladder on the way down, in a hope to give me just one last scare, no chance. A quick stop for a snack, some cheese croissants we had picked up from the German bakery which was run by always smiling Tibetans… only in India, they were good though, then we were off. Thinking that this was the highlight of our day, Mel and I were quite content to cruise through the rest of the afternoon over some Kingfishers, but the boys had more in store.

Within the perimeter of this sanctuary is also a rubber tree plantation. I was fascinated by the whole thing, how this sap which runs from cuts in a tree, down a hand made channel into the awaiting half coconut shell below, becomes the rubber that is used in our tyres on our cars, amazed me. I mean this only one application of so many. The process by which this sap becomes rubber is equally as fascinating as the collection. The sap is allowed to drain into the shells, then brought back to what looked like any steel shed on a farm back home, where it was then mixed in huge vats with acid, before being allowed to dry, once formed, it was pressed into sheets and then finally placed in a smoke house until it hardened and become sheets of rubber. These sheets would then be sent for processing in the numerous factories around India. I can’t describe the smell, something like the mix between a normal rubber an eraser, swimming pool chemicals and a smokehouse all in one. It certainly wasn’t pleasant and also lingered around our nostrils for the good part of the rest of the day. So much so that both Mel and I would continue to smell this acrid odour hours after our departure and in the strangest places. A drink stop and some time out of the sun and we were off again, riding through the winding hills of Goa, round more colourfully decorated, over laden, old, slow moving lorries, weaving between cows, motor bikes and cars, riding over here, is done slowly and with much caution. The potholes are large enough that I ‘m sure in monsoon season are used by local children as a wading pool, no joke.

It was upon the crest of one of these hills that I experienced something that I will never forget in all of my life. This was a good road, a national highway, 2 lanes each way, which means nothing really, as there would be six cars, a cow, many bikes and a few trucks travelling in all directions once busy, yet smooth enough to be travelling at around 60-70kms. We always followed Deepu at a safe distance, some 20m or so, just in case there were any surprises. Suddenly we could see their brake lights and the bike coming up at as much quicker than anytime before, I got on to all brakes all at once, not knowing what was happening. As we slowed and came closer we could see something crossing in front of the boys, it was a massive king brown snake, at least 1.5m long, I didn’t think we could stop, this snake was getting closer and closer until we skidded to a halt about 1m in front of its head. I swear this thing was looking at me, I have never been that close to anything that dangerous in all of my life. Both Mel and I were in awe of the size of this snake and with the uncomfortable elegance in which it meandered across the road. Our travelling buddies didn’t share our sense of dumb struck awe, they had their feet in the air in terror, Deepu was the palest I have ever seen him. There are not too many things that stop traffic here in India, but this was certainly one of them, the other is the cows.

The rest of the afternoon, although pleasant, paled in comparison to our brush with nature. The only thing that came close was Turtle beach. This beach is for the exclusive use of the turtles, a breading ground, the beach is dotted with makeshift screens protecting the place where eggs have been laid. It was amazing, so many spots, each with there own sign post detailing the date the eggs had been laid and expected time of hatching. A short break here to soak it all in and our wildlife adventure was coming to a close. We visited the furthest most southern part of the state of Goa Polem beach before, cruising back through numerous tiny villages, each with their own very different identities, until we finally arrived back in Palolem, exhausted by the heat, yet so invigorated by what we have seen. Tomorrow is our last day, and our new friends will be celebrating Auntie’s b’day here as we will be in Hampi by then. A fitting way for us to say thanks for what has been such a memorable day in our lives.

Trust you are all well, enjoying our travels so far. We’re leaving Bangalore tomorrow, heading to Mysore, still have stories form Goa and Hampi to come.

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Comments

[mum]

home sick
rez your stories are making me home sick, i'd like to get back home. glad your having a lovely time and enjoying where your i come from. love mum

[Parry]

goulab jamouns
Hi rez and mel, you made us jealous before with your talk of goulab jamouns, so mum is making some wish you were here to help like last time with putting the seeds inside. take care and speak to you soon love Parry