GOADING IN GOA


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September 13th 2012
Published: September 13th 2012
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Dear Chintoo,

I read your story in Planet Goa and I couldn’t help myself. I just need to write back to you.

Who am I?, you may ask. I’m Carolina and, as you would see me, I’m a gori (white female). I didn’t take any offence reading your article but I just felt so identified with what you were saying. So, here is the other side of the story.

I’m from Spain and, I don’t’ know why, India had been always a place I wanted to go. Why? I don’t really know. Actually it’s a real mystery.... Did I know much about India? Mmmmm.... no! Did I have any relatives there? Let me think...... no! Did I know some people who have been there? Yes, but, is it reason enough? Not really..... Did I want to find myself in India? Did I look for one of these spiritual trips? Not at all.... Maybe (let me go there, just a little bit!) I lived in India in another life and my past was telling me that I needed to come back to understand my evolution? Yeah, right.... it’s not really my thing, is it? So, whatever, I just wanted to go!

So, I decided to go. That sounds exciting and brave, doesn’t it? But I wasn’t brave. I couldn’t picture myself with a bag in my back and just travelling around India by myself. I thought I would like to have some more support and feel that I was going there to do something more than hanging around.

I contacted a small NGO run by Spanish people. They work in a very small village near Chennai (Tamil Nadu) and they are developing an educational project there. I’m a teacher so I found that really interesting and convenient. I did all the paper work, they accepted me and I took a plane to India in September 2010. I was supposed to be there for 6 months (and I was). Did I work for 6 months? Well, no. Could you go to India for 6 months and just settle in a very small village and not travel at all? I know someone who did and I could have done it but I tried to make the most of it so I travelled quite a lot. (Too much, someone could say but, what to do?).

I decided to go for quite a long trip with another girl who was volunteering with me for Christmas. Our plan was: Chennai, Mumbai, Goa, Hampi and back home. We took a plane in Chennai and we spent three or four days in Mumbai. Unfortunately I got sick. It was nothing really bad, just a flu. But Mumbai was too much for me in my condition.... I remembered myself taking lots of pills to handle the days and going to bed really early just because I couldn’t keep my eyes open. And I have special memories of those trips by train around Mumbai... It was so crowded and I thought I was going to fall down!

All the trains were already booked to go to Goa so we had to catch a night bus. We had the last seats on the bus and it felt like a roller coaster during the whole night! I thought we were going to have an accident. My fever was going up and I took more pills than I had ever had before! But I survived and, when we arrived in Goa we went straight away to Palolem Beach where a Spanish couple, friends of mine, were waiting for us.

After my 3 months in that small village in the middle of nowhere and my nightmare in Mumbai, when I saw Palolem Beach I looked at my friend and I said: “Forget about Hampi, I’m just going to stay here, as long as I can!”. It appeared to me like Paradise and, I didn’t know that, but, in that concrete moment I became a gori, a white female western woman in the sights of all these young Indian romance- starved guys! “Welcome beautiful!”

When we got off from the auto-rickshaw, at least 5 Indian guys were waiting for us! Were we important? Not really, we were just white (and I’m very white I must say). Every one of them had a better offer: guest house, massage, restaurant...or the best of all: I just want to be your friend. Was honesty going to give him more points? I wouldn’t have thought so but, he knew the “market” better than me! His name was Raj (just keep this in mind for now). I was still half sick and I’m pretty rude in this kind of situations in general so, I just asked for a minute and a bit of air. I knew they would find me again anyway.

We found a cottage just on the beach (it was really cheap! I understand why some people spend 2 or three months there). We left our stuff and we went to the beach. We were wearing our nice, comfortable and tiny bikinis. Obviously we saw some Indian girls having a bath with their saris on. Isn’t that uncomfortable, unpractical and even dangerous? You need to change yourself completely when you finish your bath! Or just go wet until it’s dry. And what happens if you want to swim? Forget it, it’s too heavy! While all these “Chintoos” on the beach were taking pictures of me, I was taking pictures of ladies with their saris on. Isn’t this world hilarious?

Our picture session started, some of them were more discreet than others. Small cameras, big cameras (was that you Chintoo?) but specially mobiles. You don’t need a camera anymore! You just take a pic with your mobile and you can send a message with your pic attached to your friends in just 5 seconds! Who said that India is not developing? Some of them tried to hide themselves, pretending they were doing other stuff with the phone, others just did it and the bravest ones came and talked with us. And here is when things got a bit too much for me. “Can I have a picture OF you?; What for?; Because you are my friend; Well, not really! You don’t even know my name!, Oh so... what’s your name?” Oh God! At the beginning the answer used to be “yes, ok, never mind (but do it quick ok?)”. After some days the answer became: “I don’t want you taking pictures of me and then sending them to your friends. Are you going to tell them that I’m your new girlfriend too?” But things could get even worse..... “Can I have a picture WITH you?” It was my first time in India... how would I have imagined that?? And if your answer is yes, get ready! You’ll feel a hand in your bottom, and arm too tight around your hips or some fingers playing around with your breast! And the first time you think it was just an accident, and the second time you start wondering about that and the third time you realise what this is about! And I can’t shut up, and I get angry, and I think this is insulting and disgusting! So.... never again any Indian guy taking a picture of me!

But this doesn’t save you forever because they try and try again, on the bus, on the train, walking on the street.... What they don’t remember is that your skin is white but your culture is also different and they would be surprised if you stopped them in the middle of the street and told them (with your most convincing tone of voice) that you didn’t like his hand in your bum. And if you shouted a little bit at some guy he would have a bad time because suddenly everybody on the street would look at him badly. I’ve tried. It works but it doesn’t mean it’s fun!

Anyway.... Did you say you saw someone going topless?? What a brave gori! I didn’t see any. Maybe I was on the wrong beach.

Of course, the guys who met us the first day in the auto-rickshaw found us again (and again, and again). They kept trying to sell us things but, above all, they wanted to be our friends (or something more...). At some point I asked myself if I wanted to have an affair with any of them and the answer was “no”, so I was pretty straight forward with them (as I usually am) and I didn’t fuel the fire. I remember one day while I was walking on the beach that one of them started to walk next to me and, after 2 minutes, he asked if he could hold my hand. I said “no” and he seemed very surprised, even upset. What to do?

Raj was a pretty insisting guy but it didn’t last very long with me. So he just changed his objective and started to “try” with my friend. As I said before, he knew the “market” better than me and he knew that to insist sometimes has some results. Slowly, slowly my friend started to do some things with him, some text messages, some walks along the beach, some drinks for Christmas.... and one day she got back to our little cottage at 6am in the morning with a mixed look of happiness and embarrassed on her face and she said: “well, yes... it happened!” We had Raj in our daily routine for quite a while because even when we left Goa he kept sending her messages, day and night!

Meanwhile I discovered that, apart from all the Indian guys looking for a gori, the place was full of western attractive looking guys too! And I started having some fun!

Goa was my small paradise for Christmas that year! Since that moment every time someone talks about Hampi I think: “Sorry mate, I didn’t get to go there ever... I was in Goa!”

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13th September 2012

Great writing
This is a very nice piece of creative writing Carolina. Well done!
16th September 2012

Thanks
Thank you Paul! I really appreciate your comment! xx

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