LAND OF CONFUSION

Monday, December 8th at 15:32

Kevin:

Enjoying very much our stay in Goa thus far, we decided to continue to move south along the Arabian coast of India. Additionally, we have decided to continue onward with our new friends Peter and Julia. Sadly, we left Arambol in the private taxi that we had chartered the night before from the same gentleman that provided us with our scooters. The three and one half hour, 1400 rupee ($28) ride terminated in a beach town at the far south end of the state of Goa known as Palolem. Palolem is perhaps one of the first Goan cities that was affected by a boom in tourism and massive development of the beach front. It is a much larger town than Arambol and has a completely different feel. Where Arambol was a quiet and kind of sleepy fishing village with a touristic influence, Palolem was a touristic hub with a touch of fishing. There were significantly more people staying in Palolem and considerably more businesses, restaurants and traffic. We arrived at “The Place / Sea View” where our driver dropped us off and more than likely received a commission for our delivery. After sending the girls out on a scouting mission to find other possible accommodations, Peter and I sat down with the bags and shared a cold drink. As it would turn out, their exploration would yield no accommodations that could compete with the three hundred rupee a night beach huts being offered at “The Place”. So, we got the keys, filled out the necessary government tourist forms and settled into our thatch huts facing the beach.

Having spent the majority of the morning in a tiny van with no air conditioning and surviving the customary Indian driving challenges, such as traffic, horns, heat, exhaust and uneven pavement, we were delighted once we sat down in a little restaurant on Palolem beach to have some breakfast. Our low table was flanked by a series of pillows and cushions, we were a mere twenty meters from the crashing waves and the restaurant was called “Nirvana”. The owner, who had lived in New Jersey for twenty years and spoke perfect English, joined us for some conversation and insight into the local Palolem culture. It could not have been more perfect with the exception of what would happen exactly five hours later. My time had in fact finally arrived and it would be preceded with the setting in of a massive headache, followed by a nauscious feeling. I would try to lay down to see if it would pass, but it did not. In fact, my rest was immediately interrupted by a loud call to the local facilities. This would then be followed by an evening of rushing back and forth from the bed to the bathroom where I would assume the position of toilet under seat and bucket under chin. A terribly confusing and somewhat disgusting exchange for the body to undertake. Doing all I could to try and expel the demon from my body, I finally had to give in and advise Idalis, Peter and Julia that they would be enjoying dinner without me that night. I was delighted to learn that they found a really nice Italian restaurant where they would dine on homemade pasta and spend hours talking and returning to the beach huts in the wee hours of the evening. I wish I could have been there to take advantage of spending time with them, as eventually, it will end and we will have to part ways.

The next morning we awoke. I felt much better but was a bit tender and had developed a tickle in my throat and a small cough. We would all go out to breakfast at a little all natural restaurant where we would have a great breakfast of muesli, fruit, curd (Indian yogurt) and various types of “German” bread, which we would later find out is not truly typical of real German bread but apparently an effective marketing ploy in southern Indian restaurants. Nonetheless, it was tasty and shortly thereafter we would return to our rooms and proceed to enjoy the balance of our time once again enjoying the Goan beach culture. Peter and I would go for a hike and crawl on, climb and explore the coastal areas while Idalis and Julia would lie on the beach and get sun while gossiping. Julia has been a fine addition to the “Gabba Gabba Girls Club” and Peter has been a great sidekick for adventurous excursions and shares a similar pension, with me, for jumping off of things.

Crowded and overdeveloped beach font aside, Palolem is an incredibly beautiful beach. (When I say overdeveloped, I do not mean the Western variety, as most structures in this state that are located along the beach front are restricted to a height of two stories and are mostly removed during the monsoon season. What I mean is a long stretch of structures lying side by side and making use of every inch of beach front) It is in the shape of a half moon, flanked on one side by an island, accessible by foot at low tide, and on the other by an elevated outcrop with terraced cliffs and large boulders, where Peter and I treated Idalis and Julia to a surprise Sunday morning brunch complete with fresh fruit, champagne mimosas and a breathtaking view of the area. There are countless coconut trees that gently lean over the beach and help to hide some of the structures that have been erected below them. The beach is all sand which is narrow during the high tide, where the sea actually crashes into the beach front bars and restaurants, and surprisingly expansive at low tide when meters of hard packed sand are exposed creating a huge play area for everyone. It was interesting to see as many Indian tourists visiting the beach as foreign ones. All integrate rather well and we were no exception. We took every opportunity to play frisbee with the local kids, have our pictures taken by their fascinated parents and talk to anyone wishing to “practice their English”. We were also fortunate enough to meet some non-locals in the form of another couple with whom we would spend a better part of our last couple of days with. In fact, it was Idalis and Julia who had met them in a book store. Gregor is a German who has traveled extensively and even lived in Brasil, where he met Luciana who was born and raised there. Both seemed relieved to meet a group of people with whom they could speak in their native tongue. Julia being fluent in Spanish, from her extensive travels and time in South America, and Idalis, of course speaking as well, would do their best to speak a sort of modified Portuguese with Luciana and Julia and Peter both speaking to Gregor, who also spoke great English, in German. It was a great mix of people and a rather confusing scenario with up to four languages being spoken at any one time. We would share a couple of meals and some time at the beach together, we would exchange information, wish each other well and then it was time for us to move on.





We would gather our things, pack our bags and catch the local bus, for five rupees (about ten cents) to the local train station. After about an hour and a half of sitting around the train station, watching the sobering clips from the Mumbai disaster on the television, we purchased our tickets and boarded the local train, with coaches lined with wooden benches and packed to the hilt, and headed further south to a new state, Karnataka, and yet another beach town, Gokarna. After an hour and a half on the train, we would arrive at the Gokarna Street station, where, once again, we would be bum rushed by motor rickshaw drivers offering, insistently, their services. We would run past them making a bee line straight to this old, dirty, beat up bus waiting in the fringes. We would get there, ask the driver if Gokarna city was a destination and then throw our bags on the roof and head out for a very long, very bumpy nine kilometer ride into town. Once in town, we got dropped off, I climbed on the roof to hand our bags down to Peter and save them from any more unnecessary abuse. We mounted up and began walking, under the direction of the locals, down this alley between two buildings that was supposed to lead to the beautiful beaches of Gokarna that we had so longed to experience.

The area of Gokarna contains five beaches, Town Beach, Kudlee Beach, Om Beach (which is actually in the shape of the om symbol), Half Moon Beach and Paradise Beach. Most of these beaches contain little to no accommodations and so we decided Kudlee would be our home base. We walked for at least a half an hour with heavy bags in tow over sharp lava terrain and steep passes to arrive. It was nearly getting dark and we had no reservations. As we approached Kudlee beach, we were addressed by a German man who leaned over a wall to inquire about our intentions. He offered to show us a room he had available. At first, it looked great. The grounds were nicely kept, the structures were all relatively new and it had a yoga center, an added bonus. We were escorted high up the hill to a beautiful room overlooking the beach only to be told that it would cost 1200 rupees. Not a lot of money, actually about $24, but far more than we were used to paying. So, we explained our predicament and headed back out and toward the beach to see what type of accommodations would lay in wait for our arrival. We had agreed that this time Peter and I would do the scouting. We had about an hour of sun light left so we hurried on our way. The first place we checked was the “Look Sea”, which had been mentioned in the guide book. Next was a series of other beach front huts, each one worse than the one before. The prices were amazing, ranging from 75 rupees to 150 rupees ($1.50 to $3). However, the accommodations were anything but amazing. Peter and I began to become a bit desperate. Here we were, minutes of light remaining, left in charge of championing decent accommodations and nothing but “dung huts”, as we named them, being available. In addition, we were learning that the resident population, mostly old hippies and weirdos, seemed to be a few stories short of a high rise. Running out of time and desperately wanting a shower and some food, we booked two rooms at the dark and dingy little “dung huts” known as the “Ganga” (named after the Hindu god of purification whom also shares his name with the toxic, polluted river that runs through the central Indian state of Uttar Pradesh and an interesting irony when compared to the establishment). To add insult to injury, the bathrooms were located at the far end of the property, approximately 50 meters away, and the shower was a bucket. In another twist of irony though, it turned out that the food at the restaurant was incredible and the Nepalese family running the place was so friendly and accommodating. In spite of this and the unheard of price of only 150 rupees per night ($3), it was no consolation for the dark, dingy, unpainted, unkempt, stinky, hot room that we both had to sleep in. Ours came complete with a fishing net, a pile of firewood and a mosquito control system in the form of a large lizard, and Peter and Julia's had served as a boarding room for the staff and came complete with dirty sheets and a ceiling fan that resembled the sound of the motorway when turned on high, the only speed that would even begun to cut the intense heat.

Upon arriving, we immediately put our sparkling image of the place aside and started to plot our escape. Unfortunately, every lead would turn to a dead end. We tried to book a train and it was sold out for the next four days, far too long than we wanted to spend. We could not get any accurate information about a bus out and a taxi would have been far too expensive to get us to our next desired location. Our only option was to stay one additional night and arrive at the bus station at Gokarna the following morning at 5:45am, before the buses started running to see which one we could get on. Our stay in Gokarna did not turn out to be a total loss, however. The extra day that we would have to stay afforded us the time to hike to all the other beaches along this area of the coast. A day trip that would turn out, again ironically, into a most memorable experience. The beaches that followed Kudlee, mentioned above, were absolutely beautiful. Definitely the prettiest beaches we had seen in India thus far, and amazingly remote, deserted and natural. Our day long hike would end at Paradise Beach, where we would spend the late afternoon sipping on Kingfisher beers, eating fresh pineapple and enjoying our surroundings, which included the sound of hippies filing and sanding coconut shells to make jewelry. After our long hike, a portion of which Idalis had to do with only one surviving flip-flop, we decided to catch one of the fishing boats back to Kudlee beach. Again, another fantastic decision as we were treated to not only the beautiful coastline from a distance but also an impromptu performance by a pod of juvenile dolphins that were breaching the water and performing an array of acrobatics for our private entertainment. It was a magical day that helped to restore our faith in the beaches of Gokarna and help to make our stay in the “dung huts” a bit more tolerable. The next morning we would awake at 4:30 am, scamper to get our things together, dawn our head lamps and strike out, in the dark, along the same path we had just traversed merely thirty-six hours earlier. Arriving at the bus station soaked in sweat and covered by swarms of mosquitoes we would find a state run bus that would be our salvation and ticket out of this strange, twilight zone like place.

India has proven to be many things for us thus far. It has taught us the limits of our physical tolerances while bringing pleasure to our senses. It has dismantled our most carefully thought out plans but delivered us with spontaneous moments of exstacy. It has teased us with impressions of locations that result in a less than stunning reality and it has gifted us with experiences we could have never expected. It has filled our eyes with intense light and color and our ears with unsettling cacophony. It has filled our bellies with gastronomical greatness and our guts with disruptive turmoil. Its people are incredibly friendly and their processes ridiculously convoluted. It is, indeed, a land of contradictions. What you see is not always what you get, what you expect is usually not what will be delivered. Nonetheless, we continue to press on feeling that the positive experiences far outweigh the negative ones. Above all, it has given us appreciation, for things we have and things we do not want. It has made us proud of who we are and insight into who we want to become. It has helped us to make new friends and greatly appreciate the ones we already have. It has shown us the importance of family and the desire for basic necessities. For all of these things we will be grateful and we will try to hold these lessons close as we continue to press on with open minds and warm hearts.