2017.11.07
Here we are again. Wonderful India, scary, happy, free, pulsating India!
I quit my job and traveled. But not before a whole heap of housework. I'm using a rental agent to rent out the house, which seems to go well in order. Took me a sweet while to ready the house, it's always somewhat discouraging to see how much stuff I've accumulated. My biggest regret before leaving was not being able to throw a farewell party for my friends back in Oslo, but I did get to properly say goodbye to my now ex colleagues at Mantena. Work and party hard, guys!
So now I'm here. Arambol, north Goa. The area was once a Portuguese colony, and bears clear marks of this. One Sunday morning I woke up to singing. I've woken up to many sounds in my travels, but not this. The beautiful call to prayer from Muslim minarets, cocks greeting the rising sun, bells and whistles, but never a chorus. Upon closer inspection, the local church was packed with people, and I joined some on the stairs outside. Not an organ playing, but guitar, flute and violin, and the chorus being all the locals dressed in their finest Sunday outfit. Beautiful!
The Christian heritage is strong in Goa, but it bears clear marks of other influences as well. The hippies of the 70'ies came here in bus loads, carpeting the area with sweet smelling smoke, chanting and spirituality. Their spirit lingers, but is hard spotted, as mass tourism has flooded the beaches. Gory neon, scooters zipping to and fro', street merchants, scattered music and drunk Desi (Indians) and foreign tourists thrust themselves upon your senses. Which really isn't uncommon in India, but here it is somewhat concentrated.
The first impression can be tiring, but true gems are scattered among the cascades of input. The heavily tattooed biker gang that hangs out in the nearest restaurant, talking about the importance of mudguards on Indian roads, and their warm but frustrated feelings about the Enfield, the motorbike of choice in India. Or the energetic Mumbai ex teens, that have rented a hotel rooftop, making it into a cafe/restaurant/nightclub/yoga hall/everything that is nice, where the food is some of the best I've tasted in India. Or old hippies, that have more or less settled, scraping by on pensions or a seasonal restaurant. And rest assured, under an old banyan tree in the nearby forest, an old baba was showing the younglings how to handle a chillum, or traditional weed pipe.
A wonderful place to chill, if you can find your chill in all the ruckus. It really helps to take one of the many yoga, Ayurveda, massage, music or elsewhat courses that are on hand. Which I have, I'm attending a five day course in Iyengar yoga. After that, I have decided to find the nicest beach in Goa, from north to south. Stay tuned!
And I also got a little taste of what the monsoon entails. =)
Here we are again. Wonderful India, scary, happy, free, pulsating India!
I quit my job and traveled. But not before a whole heap of housework. I'm using a rental agent to rent out the house, which seems to go well in order. Took me a sweet while to ready the house, it's always somewhat discouraging to see how much stuff I've accumulated. My biggest regret before leaving was not being able to throw a farewell party for my friends back in Oslo, but I did get to properly say goodbye to my now ex colleagues at Mantena. Work and party hard, guys!
So now I'm here. Arambol, north Goa. The area was once a Portuguese colony, and bears clear marks of this. One Sunday morning I woke up to singing. I've woken up to many sounds in my travels, but not this. The beautiful call to prayer from Muslim minarets, cocks greeting the rising sun, bells and whistles, but never a chorus. Upon closer inspection, the local church was packed with people, and I joined some on the stairs outside. Not an organ playing, but guitar, flute and violin, and the chorus being all the locals dressed in their finest Sunday outfit. Beautiful!
The Christian heritage is strong in Goa, but it bears clear marks of other influences as well. The hippies of the 70'ies came here in bus loads, carpeting the area with sweet smelling smoke, chanting and spirituality. Their spirit lingers, but is hard spotted, as mass tourism has flooded the beaches. Gory neon, scooters zipping to and fro', street merchants, scattered music and drunk Desi (Indians) and foreign tourists thrust themselves upon your senses. Which really isn't uncommon in India, but here it is somewhat concentrated.
The first impression can be tiring, but true gems are scattered among the cascades of input. The heavily tattooed biker gang that hangs out in the nearest restaurant, talking about the importance of mudguards on Indian roads, and their warm but frustrated feelings about the Enfield, the motorbike of choice in India. Or the energetic Mumbai ex teens, that have rented a hotel rooftop, making it into a cafe/restaurant/nightclub/yoga hall/everything that is nice, where the food is some of the best I've tasted in India. Or old hippies, that have more or less settled, scraping by on pensions or a seasonal restaurant. And rest assured, under an old banyan tree in the nearby forest, an old baba was showing the younglings how to handle a chillum, or traditional weed pipe.
A wonderful place to chill, if you can find your chill in all the ruckus. It really helps to take one of the many yoga, Ayurveda, massage, music or elsewhat courses that are on hand. Which I have, I'm attending a five day course in Iyengar yoga. After that, I have decided to find the nicest beach in Goa, from north to south. Stay tuned!
And I also got a little taste of what the monsoon entails. =)
Sounds exciting and like a real adventure! :-) Looking forward to reading more of your updates.
ReplyDeleteWhen are you coming? XD
ReplyDelete