Dolphin Watching et al.

One bright sunny morning, I took a dolphin watching tour. It was more expensive than what the Lonely Planet had indicated, but I suppose that was to be expected. It was supposed to be 200 rupees for a group of 4 or more, but since I went alone, it cost me 400 rupees.

We did see dolphins; there might have been one pod or four, I'm not sure. The first pod was a much lighter gray than the others, which were almost black. I got the distinct impression that we were annoying them. They would surface a couple of times and then proceed to dive down for a while, as though hiding. I imagine they must hate the idea that they are being observed and that we were disturbing their quietude; the noise coming from the many motors on the water could have been pleasant. I managed to get a few shots in, but they pale in comparison to the shots I took in New Zealand.
I promise! This is a dolphin!

The captain, Ambrose, was really friendly. He thought I came from Israel, especially because of my curly hair. I had asked a local woman the previous day who she considered were among the most difficult tourists. Her answer was immediate: Israelis. I find it an interesting to find out how locals feel about travelers. I remember asking the same question in Thailand. Their answers were the Germans. In both cases, their answers were based upon how they were treated by these tourists. The most common complaint revolved around rudeness and arrogance and the fact that they tipped badly.

My guide, Ambrose

To return to the topic at hand...after exhausting our efforts in getting close to the dolphins, we puttered around Butterfly Beach, called that because it's sandwiched between two mountains that can be perceived as the wings of a butterfly. I was told that there were monkeys on Monkey Island (one of the "wings"), but we were not to be lucky enough that day to see them (a few days later, I saw them chilling in the trees as I sunbathed).

View of Palolem from the sea

The rest of the day was relaxing and warm, the water cool. I lounged around and eventually went to bed only to be woken up in the dead of night by a parliamentary meeting held by a pack of dogs. Or I guess it could very conceivably have been a night at the stock exchange. The barks, yips, howls and growls kept me from falling asleep until 5:00a.m. But if it isn't a meeting amongst the canines, it's the cawing of crows having their own congregation in the trees around the beach huts. Oh, the joys of nature!

The next day was to be another adventure in and of itself. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was fleeced! And how! I was minding my own business having breakfast at one of the many restaurants on the beach when a man approached me and offered to sell me a newspaper. I was told it cost 30 rupees. I gave him 50, since I didn't have anything smaller. He handed me 10 rupees and he said that he didn't have any more change. I told him I would wait as he went to get it. I was told it would take 10 minutes. Being the stubborn person that I am. I waited. And I waited. And I waited. One and a half hours later he returned, not to see me, but to continue up and down the beach selling his wares. I'm sure that he had figured I would no longer be there, but I was! I called him over and asked for my change. I was very angry. He asked as much and I answered in the affirmative. He apologized with a little smile and left. Indians are very charming, even when they are in the wrong!

It was only a few hours later, when I went to have a drink somewhere and was talking to the owner of one of the beach huts that I found out I had been fleeced. 30 rupees! He laughed. He told me newspapers cost 3 rupees. He showed me where the price was indicated on the front page of the newspaper. The man had scratched off the price. I hadn't even noticed. How embarrassing! Oh well, I suppose that it was part of the tourist experience. Now that I had had that experience, I was hoping that I would be that much wiser for future encounters.

At the end of the day, it's not as though 30 rupees is all that much. I was not against paying that price. My issue was being taken advantage of. Never a pleasant feeling, but I was able to laugh about it....eventually!

On that same day I met some tourists who were raving about an Ayurvedic massage they had had. I decided to try it out. I love massages. And I love trying massages from all different parts of the world. The Swedish...which is so relaxing you can fall asleep. The Thai...which twists you in a whole bunch of awkward and painful positions so that you wonder when it will end. But afterwards you feel light and relaxed. The Korean...which utilizes some aspects of the Swedish and Thai and adds the bu huang towards the end (see my bu huang experience on the Korean Times blog). A painful ending to an otherwise pretty good massage.

So now the famous Ayurvedic massage. A traditional form of massage, they use essential oils and elements of yoga and meditation to help relax the body as well as eliminate toxins. It was a wonderful experience. The young woman worked through some tough spots on my body and the smell of the heated oils relaxed and rejuvenated me. She finished the massage with a head and scalp massage, thoroughly infusing my hair with the oil.

Over the next month I was to have two more of these massages, but they were not as good. Generally, you are completely naked in a type of plastic basin-like table. There are no towels used. So with the oil all over your body, you end up sliding all around the table, only managing to stay on because the edges of the table rise up a couple inches on each side. My first massage was on a regular table with towels, so I wasn't as uncomfortable, but I suspect that it was a modern version of this form of massage. You know... adapt to the foreign "palate" type of thing.

Well, that's all for today. A series of disjointed tales, but hopefully you found something of interest within!
One of the many ( non doctored) gorgeous Goan sunsets.

Palolem, Day 1

Fishing boat on Palolem

On my first full day in Palolem, I stepped out of the bungalow and onto the beach. When I saw Palolem in the daylight, it took my breath away. It was more beautiful than I had expected! It reminded me of Thailand in many ways. The beach is surrounded by green hills and in the corners of the cove are boulders rising out of the water.

These bungalows are considerably more upscale than where I stayed, and are more private. To get to them you have to wade through the low tide. In high tide, people staying there take a boat over to the main Palolem beach.

This is the beach where the first 5 minutes of The Bourne Supremacy was filmed.

People here approach you with everything they can, trying to sell you things you don't really need. They are very persuasive. I've already bought more than I anticipated so I have to be very careful! They sell things ranging from cds to books, jewelry, batiks, drums, postcards, peanuts, fruit...the works. I bought this skirt too!

And it is always done with a smile. Indians are beautiful people and the women in their saris and salwar kameez are exquisite. Indians and foreigners alike claim Palolem is the best beach in India and Lonely Planet seems to think so too. During off season, you can expect to pay about 400rupees per night for a bungalow, which is about 8.50US dollars a night (prices in December 2007), but the price will rise to about 1,000 by the time Christmas arrives and for a good month afterwards.

There are an equal number of dogs and cows lounging on the beach as if they own the place and they are all really friendly. The dogs like to hang around you when you eat, hoping for scraps, but they are well-mannered enough not to try to steal. They just wait patiently. These dogs absolutely love the beach. I saw some running into the waves this afternoon. They were having so much fun! It was great to see. But be careful at night. They curl up in the sand, asleep, so you have to make sure not to step on them.
Cows chilling and a dog to the right, that gray log-looking thing over there!


p.s. I saw the sunset for the first time since arriving in India. We are on the west coast. It was gorgeous.

Traveling through Goa

(There are few pictures in this entry. Keep in mind that I spent the day in the bus and I've learned that trying to take pictures from a bus is a wasted effort. And since I had a film camera at the time, I decided not to waste film on blurred images.)

I'm sitting in a bus in the town of Vasco de Gama. I arrived in Goa about an hour ago and immediately went to the tourist office for information. One guy told me to take a taxi for the price of 1,200rupees. A woman suggested I take the bus because it would cost less. I opted for the bus because I'm in India and I don't really want to travel like a bourgeois. This, I feel, is more authentic. So, here I am. I have no idea when the bus will leave, though an old man (there are two old men and one old woman in the bus with me) told me this bus would go to Chaudi, which is fairly close to where I want to go: Palolem.

The inside of the bus is painted in crazy aquamarine and there are painted signs for "senior citizens" and "ladies only". The conductor is sitting in the cabin, which is caged off, but he has hung two old water bottles from the ceiling and has plants growing out of them. Their leaves have been wound throughout the rest of the bus. It adds atmosphere...

The bus is moving now. It sounds like it's 50 years old and just wants to die. More people have got on now. The buildings outside are old and the paint's chipping off, but it's very green here and there are coconut trees everywhere. It's over 30 degrees Celsius and I'm in heaven!

I think I could walk faster than this bus! :)

On the bus, there are signs asking people not to eat Paan.

Paan salesman (picture taken in Kerala): paan is made with a betel leaf, in the upper left of the picture. The way they make it in Bangladesh is with a crushed palm nut that is placed inside the betel leaf along with a kind of white paste made with crushed shells. Feel free to correct me if my memory is wrong. In India, though, there seems to be a slightly different way of making it, though I don't have the know-how to explain it. It is also very possible that different states in the country have their own twist on it.

(check out the recipe for paan on www.Food-India.com. While reading the recipe, I realized that there is no indication of crushed shells in it, but I'm leaving my explanation up here because that was the explanation I remember receiving at the time; the mind is tricky though, so if you do want to try this for yourself, definitely trust the website!)

Betel leaves (taken at a Myanmar market in 2002)


Palm nuts: (taken at a Myanmar market in 2002)

People eat paan on the buses anyway and there are dark stains on the floor of the bus. Most times, though, they spit out the window, which one could interpret as very considerate. Except that someone spit out the window that day and with my unflappable luck, the spit returned inside the bus and splattered all over my face and neck! The red juices of the paan mixed with the man's very healthy dose of saliva not only showered me, but also stained my t-shirt. It was pretty disgusting, but I wiped it off and smiled. This is adventure!

Some observations while riding on the bus:

-There are lots of bougainvillea here and everyone plays cricket; I saw cricket fields from the plane. Wouldn't it be nice to watch part of a game and have the rules explained to me...

- Driving by a bunch of beautiful old colonial houses set back off this country road; surrounded by trees, they are amazing

- Saw a funeral procession; everyone was wearing blue

- There are so many shades of Indians; from the very light-skinned to the dark cocoa that is so rich and beautiful

- The women are brightly colored peacocks and the men drab, in comparison.

- I have only seen one man wearing a lungi. I was told that wearing a lungi was considered old-fashioned and that no one in the north wear them anymore (unless they are in the comfort of their homes), but that I might find some wearing them in the south. And I did! It brings back fond memories of Bangladesh...

I have arrived after almost 12 hours of traveling! Big difference from the 3 hour cab ride I could have taken! But it was worth it.

When I got off the bus, night had already fallen hours earlier and I was immediately accosted by loads of young men paid to bring you to their beach hotel/motels. I tried to find the place that I had wanted to stay at, (recommended in Lonely Planet), but couldn't figure out North from South (rare for me, I'm pretty good at getting my bearings.) And with my heavy backpack and the fact that I walking in sinking sand in the dark, I soon gave up and decided to check out a place one of the many young men had to offer. I finally found one that wasn't really that great, but it was clean enough and I had my own bungalow steps away from the ocean. The people there were really nice, though, and very helpful; and best of all, it was cheap (the equivalent of $10US per night)!

After settling in, I was ready to eat; one of my favorite pastimes. I was initially going to find another place to eat at, but the managers and guys working there convinced me to stay. I was led to a table in the sand, facing the water, a candle lit and waiting for me. It was wonderful.

Fish, freshly caught that day, were laying on a bed of ice in a glass case, waiting for patrons to take their pick. I let myself go and asked for the young man's opinion. He suggested the red snapper. I've since learned that snapper come in all shapes and sizes depending on the country you're in. This one was pretty big, but I was up for the challenge. The snapper in New Zealand were smaller, but perhaps it's because I fished off the coast and they were therefore smaller. And how would I like it cooked? He suggested tandoori.

That meal will remain one of the best meals of my entire life. I will never forget it.

Tandoori Red Snapper

What a great start to my Indian adventure!

Arrivals and First Impressions

I arrived in Delhi one cool December evening and was picked up by the company that would, two weeks later, be taking my family on a customized tour of "Northern" India.

But first things first, I was off on a two-week adventure to the South!

At first, India reminded me a lot of Bangladesh; with regards to traffic and the insanity of their driving techniques. After having spent a year in South Korea, however, it was a welcome breath of fresh air to hear people say "excuse me" or "sorry" when I was bumped along the crowded airport. But unlike Korea, the men stared. A LOT. I guess it comes with this part of the territory.

At the guesthouse where I was to stay the night before going to Goa, I met a Brahmin Hindu and we talked of religion. Perhaps not the most PC start to my trip in India, but I'm not the average traveler either. He was quite interesting. We spoke of honesty and who, among the Indians, were the most honest.

The following are his impressions, not mine:

Muslims are 10% honest

Hindus are 30% honest

Sikhs are 99% honest

Interesting...it would be nice to hear what others think about this breakdown.

Apparently Sikhs are the most honest because of the way they follow their religion. They are great people of honor who donate regularly to charities and other such organizations as part of their role as humans here on earth. So when doing business, they uphold that sense of honor, hence their trustworthiness.

I once worked for a Sikh family in Montreal. They owned a textile company and made beautiful things. They came from the North-west part of India, the Punjab region. A very nice family, though I couldn't say whether they were more honest than other Indians I met while in India.

Day 1 over, I was ready to rest and get ready for my adventure to the south the next day!