Diahorrea and palm trees

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Nameste,

I am now in the South of India, in the state of Goa, and what a state I have been in. The journed from Varanassi required me to catch two trains, with a 8 hour wait in between each one. The total jounrney took 59 hours, and I my arse started to leak about 3 hours out of Goa. I had been staying so healthy, but I suspect it was some dodgy train food that did me in.

I am now in Arambol,which is right at the top of Northern Goa. I am staying in a bamboo hut which is right on the beachfront. There are worse places to be ill! I was only going to stay for a few days, but as I spent 5 of them cutting a path between said hut and the toilet, I am kicking back for a few more. A big thankyou to Skip from Australia who got me water and enquired after my health, and Nadia from Switzerland who gave me some charcol tablets. After being quite ill for 4 days, I decided enough was enough, and paid an Indian guy 50 rupees to take me on the back of his motorcycle to the nearest chemist, which is a few kilometres out of town. After necking some Anitibiotics, witihin 24 hours my bum had dried up and I was back in holiday mode. Feeling great now, but nothing like the banana lassie and shit program to make a girl shed those extra unwanted kilos.

Today I went to Anjuna, for its famous wednesday flea market. I was going to catch the bus, but bummed a ride with a swedish guy on the back of a scooter. Cruising through the balmy tropical air past cows, goats and swaying palms was delightful. However, I now know that my poor sense of direction is not actually due to any particular spatial locale, as I managed to get us lost twice on the way there. Getting lost in India is much more rewarding, as we ended up travelling down quiet village roads past moss covered shrines. When we did eventually find our way, the flea market was good, but you do need to be pretty chilled out as there is a lot of pressure to 'just look in my shop'. I bought a pair of pants, and a ring and a couple of trinkets for some of the folks back home.

Goa is so completely different from Northern India, to the extent it seems like a whole other country. Ater the train left Mumbai at around midnight, my last view out the window was the depressing jumble of little shanty houses that line the railway, where the least affluent mumbiaties reside. The following morning my view upon waking was the mist rising over a tropical emerald canopy. I nearly cried with joy. It is a very lush and green part of the planet, and although there are the same refuse problems creeping in (mostly I suspect as a result of the tourist population ), it is a paradise indeed.

Swimming in the Indian Ocean, in India, is a huge thrill. The water is much warmer then in Australia, and consequently a lot more briney. Every afternoon white starfish the size of childrens hands appear along the shore line, only to be swept out with the night time tide. Cows sit incongruosly on the beach, staring out to sea, while packs of dogs fight constantly in the sand, deciding who is todays alpha male with a snapping and clacking of jaws. It is an extremely serene place to be, and because is is not the high season there are not too many people around. I imagine it would be a whole different trip in December when the beach is packed; no serenity and plenty of doof doof music.

I am excited to be eating again, and last night celebrated with a Goan Tali. I have been eating a lot of Tali (basically a bit of a platter where you get rice, dahl, some pickle and a selection of other dishes) but last nights was the best yet. Being a coastal area it is all about the fish. Washed down with a Kingfisher beer, it was a meal to remember.

I am planning on leaving this paradise in a few days and mooching my way down through Goa, stopping if the urge takes me, but my next destination is Kerala. I am sure Kerala will be different again, there are tea plantations and the famous backwaters, and it is the home of Ayeverda, so I might just have to get myself a massage.

Hopefully my arse stays dry.

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