Cottage Industries and Decadence in Goa

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Dreadful to say but true, the wealthy Westerner guilt I’d felt in Mumbai began to fade away the moment we arrived in Goa (together with all the stress, anxiety and sweat we’d accumulated in the previous few days). As the sea breeze blew gently through the many coconut palms, we could feel immediately that life moves at a different pace in Goa, people are happier, more relaxed, appreciative that they live in this (relatively) wealthy little pocket of paradise.

Our destination was Palolem, an idyllic curve of beach nestled between palm trees, where the only developments are a few restaurants and little clusters of coconut huts on stilts. The water of the Arabian sea is deliciously warm with gentle waves, the sand is soft and yellow, the beer is cold, the food is sensational and everything is cheap as chips (actually, chips are more than a euro these days aren’t they? Cheaper than chips, so). Days are spent alternating between sea, sun lounger and beach bar, where waves lap up to the steps and the bronzed blissed out clientele sit stretched out on cushions on the ground.

The only punctuation to remind you that you’re in India (as opposed to any other paradise destination) is the occasional beach seller, strolling the shore in full sari, chatting casually to would-be customers. These women are mostly from the north, particularly Rajasthan, and they would tell us stories about life back home, their traditions and culture and the huge differences between Jaipur or Gujarrat and Goa. They spend the high season in Goa selling clothing and jewellery until monsoon hits, then returning home to their families, with whom they spend the rainy months without any form of income. Therefore, they told us, it was imperative that they sell as much as they can in Goa before the end of the season, to keep their families fed in the months ahead. It was about 10 days until monsoon was due - what sort of a humanitarian would I be if I didn’t help?

Four skirts, two tops, two anklets, three necklaces, two bed spreads, three henna tattoos, a jewellery box and a toe ring later, I was beginning to enjoy my one-woman NGO mission to support the cottage industries of the migrant workers of India. My backpack may be bursting and my wallet may be lighter, but my new adornments are so very pretty, and a number of households in Rajasthan will enjoy a more prosperous monsoon. That’s how I’m justifying it anyway.

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Photos

Life is hard
Thankfully we have sunglasses and beer to shield us from the dazzling brightness of sun on sand.

Our little coconut house on stilts
Third on the right, past the palm tree, opposite the Ganesh shrine, you can't miss it.

Comments

[Sublime Porte]

Irish delight
From the bleak reaches of mount Sharr and the desolate plains of Kosovo, through the temples of Peru, to the warm waters of the Indian Ocean… You are the epitome of the intrepid NGO crusader who works day and night for the well being of the huddled masses. Tough to see how hard it is for you ;) Would have loved to be there with you Sunflower…

[John D]

Toes
I've said it before and i'll say it again: Clare your toes are hideous! You should have them removed.

[¿porque peru?]

What have you done with Cheryl?
I recognise those sunglasses ... but not the 'do. Where's Cheryl gone? And Dave had better've used nail clippers on that barnet ...