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Published: June 30th 2006
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For the past five days, I could swear that I have not been in India if it were not for the fact that there are still Indians everywhere. There’s no one trying to sell me anything, no one trying to rip me off, no one really begging. And then on top of that, I’m on a small island with loads of deserted beaches to relax and lounge on. Okay, it’s not really as nice as I’m making it out to be. This morning I still saw a guy throwing some sort of sewage/waste/defecated material into the sea from one of the hotels today. Fortunately, the beaches are on the other side of the island.
And instead of deciding to bargain my way around by rickshaw, I rented an awesome little scooter to cruise around on. Maybe she doesn’t have too much power, maybe she makes some odd rattling noises, and maybe she is a sweet purple color, but I’ll tell you, the horn works (essential even here) and it’s only $3.00 per day to rent! In regards to the horn, I’ll give you a quick Indian driving lesson: signals are scoffed at, there are no speed limits, there are no
traffic laws, you’re lucky if the road even has lanes. The ONE AND ONLY rule of the road is that you HONK for anything and everything: when turning a corner, when overtaking, when you want the cow or the dog or the water buffalo or the person to get off of the road….
You get the idea.
And for a little added touch, you drive on the left and not the right.
I would imagine that the island of Diu is about 15 kilometers in length and most of one side is composed of beaches. The most populated beach is called Nagoa and is a magnet for Indian tourists. And I must say, there is quite a bit of humor to be had by watching Indians frolic around on the beach. You’ve got the families with kids running around with no clothes on, the women in full saris in and out of the water, and the men swimming some in their underwear others in jeans. And they come in massive groups. On top of all of this, Diu is popular because you can buy alcohol within the town for some provincial reason or something (Portuguese influence maybe
This is a Rickshaw
I've been talking a lot about rickshaws in my latest blogs. These are the little taxis that have been scooting me around cities lately. Good fun really. since it was a former colony of theirs until the early eighties). Now in most places in India alcohol is available, but not widely, and it’s expensive. So, that means that most of Indians scurrying around on the beaches are gorging themselves on the normally unavailable intoxication that the more lenient laws in Diu provide.
The other beach though, at the far end of the island, is where the best relaxation is to be found. There is a stretch of maybe 2 kilometers with absolutely nothing but sand and sea, well, except for that little part in the middle where they do sacrificial cremations, but you just have to ignore that and the remnants of recent fires.
So after five peaceful days in Diu, I’m now in Mumbai (Bombay), where all the Bollywood action is. It is probably the most modern of India’s cities, but also one that is extremely impoverished especially on the outskirts. Driving in today after a bone-chattering 22 hours on a bus, we passed slum after slum where people are living in quite squalid conditions. Shacks here were thrown together by means of plastic bags, bricks, and sheet metal. People were cooking over open fires. The most vivid memory I will have of entering Mumbai will definitely be of the men lining the sides of the road, hovering over the drainage ditches, strategically placed about 5 meters apart going about their morning toothbrushing, clearing their bowels with balls and all flapping in the wind. No porta-potties here folks. But they didn't seem to be bothered by our bus full of people, nor any other vehicle for that matter, driving through their makeshift toilent. Somehow the naturalness, and the routine, bored demeanor of the participants, made it slightly less shocking. That is until I turned my head to look at the opposite side of the road. There I saw strips of luxurious, high-rise apartments where the Mumbai where it's likely that the Mumbai middle to upper classes have their homes. Each seemed so out of place next to the other. It was a coexistence of two unlike worlds colliding at the junction of State Highway 35, but existing in a sort of harmonic balance., baffling and amazing and a testament to the uniqueness of the Indian spirit.
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Erica
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Any plans for ashrams? Just curious. Love Erica