You love the way she hesitates for a delicious moment before replying. But reply she does.
You ask her something .. she will be talking to another person .. but she will come back to you.
You feel awake, alive and more in touch with world than you thought possible.
Hungry Eyes !
It seems that posting a lot of pictures is a great way of disguising a lack of good content. Noted for future use.
And i just re-read my last post, and it was quite banal and boring. Sorry. This is the last Yemen post. The key is to change subjects very quickly :-)
On Sunday morning we informed dear Abdul that we had completely changed our plans, and would like to reach back to Sana’a that night. He was quite taken aback, but was a god sport, and suggested a route that would let us see some nice places, and still reach Sana’a. It is forbidden for tourists to travel at night, so we had to start heading back soon.
This time we started the day with a fish breakfast. Basically the same meal, just that we bought different fish this time, and direct from the fish market. And I decided to start the Khat in the morning itself, and give it a chance to work its magic all day.
We took a sneak peak at Zabeet, and drove back towards Sana’a, skirting most of the tall mountain roads. I did manage to persuade Abdul to let me drive the Land Cruiser, something i had wanted to do for a long time. We again managed to break his heart by telling him that we had not chewed the Khat from the day before. Khat needs to be consumed the same day, while its fresh. As we abhor alcohol abuse, the yemenis frown upon wasting Khat.
We passed through some of the same green wadi, and managed to buy some excellent mangoes on the way. I was chewing, so Navin got started on them, pronouncing them to be excellent. Part of the drive was actually IN the wadi, as the road was under repair. Quite fun, we actually hung onto the back of the jeep for a while to enjoy the scenery better.
We managed to pass the last mountain village with just enough light to get permission to proceed to Sana’a. But it was great light. There was a fog. And for the first time I felt the land was introducing itself to us. A little bit of mystery, shadows in the mist, lights sparkling in the ancient villages. Its amazing what light can do to the mood of a place. This same mountain in the afternoon sun looked so drab.
We had dinner at a local diner, and were once again surprised by the excellent food. Ordered the chicken thrice. Shades of Amritsar, and the Tandoori Chicken :-)
We encountered some trouble at the last roadblock near Shibam. The police did not want to let us drive that late. In the end, they agreed to give us two men as armed escorts, who dropped us off at the next checkpoint. Very nice folks. And that was the greatest find of the trip. This country has good hearted people, still awed and happy at meeting strangers, not jaded and commercially motivated, because they dont get too many tourists.
We arrived back to our hotel, got the same room, and sat down with our old friends in the Khat room.
And so we ended like we started, chewing and smoking, listening to great sufi music late at night in this ancient city, sitting in a 800 year old house. The music has rarely sounded better, it seemed to like the place :-)
OK .. I admit I am getting a little bored of this now. What seemed like an excellent idea 2 weeks back, now seems like a chore. But what the heck, a promise is a promise, and I will complete the Yemen series :-)
Abdul gave us great hopes for the days ahead. Dinner and dancing in the mountains. Fresh fish in the market in Hudaydah. Maybe it was the high expectations, but this was our most disappointing day.
We started out on a road towards the mountains, with a barren landscape all around us. The police roadblocks now had tanks in addition to the usual mounted machine guns. Admittedly they were circa WW-II, but imposing just the same. We gave a ride to some locals, who were happy to hang on to the back of the Land Cruiser. But the mountain villages were seeming more and more similar. We were losing interest. ADD is usually the diagnosis for folks like us.
We reached the hotel where we were to stay for the night (dinner/music/dancing/khat), and it was very uninspiring. The lunch was the worst we had in Yemen. At this point, the prospect of enduring the local music and dancing (obviously all male) was not looking attractive at all. So we made a decision to push on to the seaside, where we would at least get good fish. The argument being that in the mountains you cannot expect too much, the infrastructure was not good enough.
We did manage to visit ONE interesting village, where the Ismaili’s originate from. The mosque was simple and gorgeous. The small climb to the top of the mountain was nice, but all we found there was a bunch of locals chewing Khat.
The drive to the sea was refreshingly pleasant. We passed through a wadi, with a river running through it. It was like a slice of Kerala had been pasted in the middle of the desert. Mango and banana plantations, lush green fields of other fruits and vegetables, extremely pleasing to the eye after 2 days of brown dust.
We reached Hudaydah in the evening. My first reaction was : This town could just have been transplanted straight from India. Any small town in Madhya Pradesh. And then we saw the hotel. A monstrosity. Someone’s misplaced sense of aesthetics was very evident. We did have A/C rooms, but at this point we just gave up. There was the sea, (the hotel is sea facing, on the beach) but NO beach ! Just rocks. And with what loving care we had packed our bathing suits. Our Abdul was quite distraught by all this, he was quite proud of his country, and was finding it incredibly hard to understand how we were not appreciating this excellent hotel, with the A/C rooms and all.
So we decided to explore the option of going back to Sana’a, and maybe just cut our trip short. Noura was contacted (very reluctantly yeah .. she had already warned us that there was nothing to do in Yemen for a week), and we found that we could pay more and come back on Monday. And while we were debating, ten minutes later we also found that Noura had already taken the initiative and changed our flights. Very proactive this woman.
It was so bad that we decided not to chew the Khat we had bought on the way. (Of course, how can we deny ourselves the option atleast). After a couple of shots of Vodka, we went with the peerless Abdul to eat at the famed fish. That was the one part of the day that was good as promised. Bought altogether too many fish, had them cooked, ate in the same way as before. Very satisfying, and VERY filling. Because there is no point in letting good fish go waste.
So at this point we realized that there were other reasons why tourism is not so popular in this country. There is bloody nothing to see !!!
No, I am being a bit harsh .. there are other island paradises rivaling the Galapagos, but those are on the other side of the country. But for people like us, with the attention span of a small fish, it was quite enough.
Thought for the day : Any living should involve unlimited flexibility, or unending hedonism.
Friday was the start of our road trip around the country. Armed with a Land Cruiser, driver Abdul and his broken english, and multiple copies of our travel permit, we embarked on the first leg of the journey, even waking up at the relatively ungodly hour of 8 in the morning.
The first checkpost was encountered about 15 km from Sana’a. Two jeeps with mounted machine guns stood guard, while every entry and exit vehicle was checked. As a tourist, you need permission from the tourist police to venture out (and in) of any government controlled area. Which are essentially the cities. Hey, we are talking about a country where two germans were kidnapped and taken to inaccessible mountains 60 km from Sana’a :-). After various gestures towards us and explanations from Abdul (who used the word Amreeki many times), we were allowed to drive out.
The first stop was Imam Yahya’s house. The thing is perched on a rock, and built almost as a vertical extension to it. Very amazing place, thick stone walls, and great views. Charming could be a word to describe it. Some locals were disinterestedly dancing outside, maybe that was part of the push to promote tourism. Abdul (“you no worry, Abdul here, luggage safe. No problem, take much time”) was a little disappointed that we came out without spending too much time in there.
He was even more unhappy when we refused to take pictures of a “very pretty village” on the way. “Italiano, Espania, they take too much pictures”. He did manage to borrow some money from us to buy Khat. Yeah, he started early that day. At his insistence, we did stop at one village, which had some almost european looking narrow houses surrounding a pond, and a mosque to top it off.
We stopped to buy some local grilled chicken, and reached Shibam for lunch. Some local woman has converted her house to a restaurant, and gave us some great food. There was a TV crew outside which wanted to get our reactions to Yemen and the lunch in particular. And a group of tourists accompanied by a AK47 toting bodyguard. “No problem, too much Kalashnikov in Yemen”. We paid a princely sum of $10 for the sumptuous meal, and declined Abdul’s offer to let us trek to the next destination, Kawkaban, a village about 500 m directly up, overlooking Shibam. Highlight of the meal : a very pretty Yemeni woman, who had taken of her veil while washing her face. Yummy ! And so was the dessert of pastry covered with honey. We visited the local Khat market again to buy supplies (which featured bodies of old trucks being used as shops). More expensive this time. The Khat budget is increasing day by day now.
A nice drive to the top. I was quite surprised by the road infrastructure there, was not expecting something as good. Kawkaban looks down on a vast plain, and there is a vertical drop of about 500 m. Great spot for paragliding. Or base jumping. We were in for a little letdown here. The hotel was small, but not quite as nice and charming as the Golden Dar. Got some excellent light though, and some good pics. Tried meditating on the edge of the cliff, but were constantly disturbed by some local kids trying to sell us stuff. Again a little disappointing, this was the first time someone had shown this tourist-philic behavior.
The evening was spent in the Khat room, in the company of two swiss guys, who in retrospect seemed to be gay. Well, Abdul did spot them showering together the next morning, naked and all. But that might just be being european. I did have some food that evening, even though the Khat was working its magic. Long conversations, about random topics. I could not sleep, and this is where I wrote the first of the Sana’a blogposts.
So in the course of the day, I did catch some words which are used in Hindi/Urdu. “Ajnabi”, “Chai” .. And my mouth was quite sore now because of the Khat. Both sides.
I could not sleep well that first night, probably because of the Khat. The morning meditation session was great, just like last night. And then we proceeded for a great big breakfast. Having not eaten last night, this was quite fulfilling. And immediately started planning for lunch.
We go with Mohammed to the local fish market. Navin shows his expertise and gets us two small and one big fish. The second step now is to cook the fish. There is a fish cooking place right next door to the market. We give our fish (along with about a 100 other people, dont know how they keep track of the various owners) for grilling and discovered the chutney makers outside on the street. They will take cilantro, tomato, onions and a piece of cheese, grate them together and produce this mixture that goes well with fish. It took about 45 mins for all the fishes to be delivered. In the meantime, we were offered a drink (some faux alcohol drink ) by the head griller, and had to drink it out of the his glass. Quite friendly, i must say ! I do believe that half the taste in the fish was because of the drops of sweat that this guy was liberally sprinkling on them while grilling.
Now for the eating part .. We celebrated the last phase of the fish supply chain in another local joint (different from the cookhouse), where we ordered a big nan to go with the fish. A most satisfying meal. Accompanied by a 7-up. And we picked up some Khat for the afternoon session on the way back.
This time we decided to chew in our own room. And we again walked out into the city, wandering along almost the same paths, with no fixed destination in mind. People would point to the bulges in our cheeks and give us the thumbs-up sign in a spirit of camaraderie.
Though not as involving or engrossing as the first day, this too had it highlights. It was raining again when we started. We went into one of the museum/galleries, ostensibly to look for a place to pee, but it turned out to have quite a view of the city. I remember sitting at Bab-El-Yemen, one of the gates of the old city, and watching the street market unfold around us. The discussions that night were again quite extensive – some things I remember are “return of the generalists”, “being bold enough to say NO, or to NOT commit”, and of course some ruminations on sex, including “where did the taboos on sex originate from”.
Next day is supposed to be the start of our road trip outside Sana’a, the Land Cruiser was waiting, and the driver. We slept kinda early that night.
Yes, I know, this post is a letdown from the last one. Two reasons : the day itself was not as remarkable, and I am not feeling as inspired to write about it. Happens to the best of us. Tomorrow may be better. Inshallah !
Sana’a Airport is exactly what you would expect : A poor and neglected country’s effort to hold on to a tenuous connection with the rest of the world. The intention is there, but little enthusiasm. A small crowded arrival hall, people milling around trying to get information, indifferent staff .. the works ! We were supposed to be met by some acquaintances of Navin’s friend from the firm, but they were nowhere to be seen. We did take the initiative to get some money changed, and decided to wait for them. After a little while we saw two locals looking for someone. I think they were expecting someone in a business suit, and were somewhat disappointed when two scruffy Indians presented themselves as the objective of their search. They told us to get our visa-on-arrival, get in the immigration line(very helpful information, this), and meet them at the baggage claim. And welcome to our country.
We claimed our bag (marked very obtrusively with chalk) but could not spot the local help. We were stopped by the customs who were more interested in the ipod speakers than the 3 bottles of booze we had bought along. You cannot get alcohol legally in Yemen, and we were warned that they would be quite strict about the amount you could bring in. But we did manage to somehow communicate the purpose of the dangerous looking device, and walked out.
The taxi drive to the hotel was both depressing and a reality check. Police jeeps with mounted heavy machine guns were a reminder of the part of world we were in. The US state department warnings seemed real for a while. After a while, we seemed to driving on a freeway, with exit ramps and all, only that it was built below the street level, rather than above it.
The hotel was in Old Sana’a, and quite a pleasant surprise. Nice old building with a lot of character, friendly staff (very .. more on that later), and a great room on the 7th level (right next to the Khat chewing room). With a balcony that could be accessed through the window. And no elevator ! We would really have to plan our trips to the ground floor. A climb up those narrow stairs would be sure to leave us gasping for breath. I will totally blame that on the altitude (Sana’a is at about 2500m).
Very much like a old village haveli (much more vertical though, than horizontal). Thick stone walls, old wooden doors, and little nooks and crannies everywhere. Halls on every landing leading off to 3-4 rooms. And 25$ a night. Navin had really hit jackpot in his search for a nice hotel. The manager is a Polish guy !
A Muhammad (referred to as the Muhammad after this) immediately dedicated himself to our service. We walked to a local place for lunch. This was the dhaba experience. Dingy place, two cooks on a raised platform in front of a searing fireplace, complete with the “chotu” boys and policemen getting a free meal. Excellent food. Two different stews boiling in cast iron pans, served with huge nans. We ate with our hands, no plates, dipping straight into the pans. Sweet black cardamom tea to follow.
And then to the Khat market. (Please look up the wikipedia link for details, but suffice to say that it is the cornerstone of a Yemeni male’s social life). The masses were there in full force, gathering up the supplies for the after-lunch sessions. We secured our bags after much sniffing, touching and bargaining, and headed back to the hotel to enjoy our first taste of this leaf.
Khat is supposed to be chewed in a social setting. You take small leaves and tender twigs, masticate on them to get the juices, and deposit them in the space between your teeth and cheek. It requires some skill, and, as we later found out, can be quite painful the next day if your cheek is not used to having a tennis ball stuffed inside it for long periods of time. Which is the case for most of the world.
We sat in the living room and started, with the TV showing “Notting Hill”. Local Yemenis joined and left, a lot of greeting were exchanged, incomprehensible conversations were ignored, and 2 hours later we found ourselves watching Hugh Grant finally get Julia Roberts. The bulges in our cheeks were apparently not up to the mark (though Navin’s was passable), as the locals were quick to point out. A decision was made to take a walk in the city.
Cameras in hand, we started walking in a random direction. The old city is like a maze, the narrow lanes twisting and turning whimsically, the narrow fronted houses atleast 4-5 stories tall on either side. This is when we first noticed our pleasant mood. People were friendly and we were greeting them back with enthusiasm. Going with the flow, we finally reached the local market. The only place I can compare it to is Chandni Chowk in Delhi. Separate areas for spices, jewelry, clothes, fruits. Just a little bit less people. Very similar wares.
Someone randomly called out to us, and upon hearing that we were from India, asked us to sit down. We happily obliged and chatted with him for a long time (he knew english, we were not that high). It started raining, we sat under the canvas shade in front of his grocery shop, and the world suddenly seemed like a very friendly place.
So thats the very essence of Khat, We felt very sociable, talkative, and at peace with all humankind. The old man took us for a cup of tea nearby and we left promising to meet him the next day. It was still raining intermittently, and the lights were starting to come on. The call to evening prayers from the minarets was the final ingredient in a magical atmosphere that we were just very aware of. Mindfulness.
Roamed about for some more time, and made our way back to hotel, shooting some low light shots. We reached the freeway which was at a lower level than the city, and were quite surprised to find it full of flowing water, and a few cars struggling to wade through. Finally found out that it was actually a paved drainage channel, which gets converted to a road whenever it is dry !
Sat down for the evening meditation in our room (We have been very regular with that, to our own surprise). And experienced one of those sessions that move you to the core. Maybe it was the Khat, maybe the atmosphere and vibes of the city, but we both did not want it to end. We stayed in the room, put on some music and talked for a while. Might have wandered a bit, but in essence we discussed relationships. Not particular ones, just in terms of their importance in life. And to do something atleast a bit creative.
My response to that has been to chronicle the happenings of this trip. And go on from there. Inshallah !
Lacking any other milestone, I decided to use the Coldplay concert in Abu Dhabi as the date to go to Dubai. Part of a larger plan, the month (?) long Dubai visit is meant to be another one of those Phinal Phreakouts, this time to celebrate Navin quitting his job. Tickets were available, so one was bought for me, and Navin and I reached Dubai on the morning of March 28th from Coimbatore (How, why Coimbatore is another story. This time, I am not even promising that it will be related. Depends)
After a nice nap in the afternoon to get over the overnight flight, Navin, Stellios and I made the long drive to Abu Dhabi in Navin’s new BMW 5 series (yeah, the fruits of a capitalistic society can be nice sometimes). We were supposed to meet Noura at the Hotel Shangri-La, and Navin had directions to the place.
Very bad directions, it turned out. We spend about an hour and a half trying to find the place. It was supposed to be between two bridges, as we were repeatedly told by many people. Quite a description. What we did not realize was that it was in Between Two Bridges. It is actually the name of a locality there. Somehow we managed to get there, in time for lunch (dinner ?)
Had amazing Lebanese food at the Abdul Wahab, accompanied by two bottles of crisp white Lebanese wine (never had hummus/meat this good). It was time to go to the Emirates Palace. This turned out to be another 25 Kms, and there were scattered showers (yeah yeah, i have been watching a lot of weather channel reports) on the way. Speculation was rife on whether the concert would be indoors or outdoors. The rain ended when we reached the parking, and we made a note of the specific location of the car by triangulating with three buildings. Three engineers together can think of such things.
Three bands were tied to the wrists before we were able to get our first drinks. Entry, Age Verification, and Earth Day. For probably the first time in my life I was early for a concert. No opening band, but there was nice music playing in the entry area. Stood in line for drinks, and Noura managed to charm an unsuspecting philipino bartender into pouring amazing amounts of alcohol. In keeping with my new low alcohol policy, I decided to stick to beer.
There was a cornucopia of amazing looking women, mostly westerners, reflecting the population of Dubai. Stellios and I made the most of it, letching to our hearts content. Navin also probably did the same, but I am sure he believes in culpable deniability. There was still some thunder and lightening going on. And by the way, we found that the concert was supposed to be out in the open. At least the audience was. Another round of drinks was purchased, and the bartender showed appreciation for the previous tip by pouring us Half and Half. Half vodka and half red bull. And he stopped only because we told him to. Lethal drinks, all of them. Me, another beer.
As we moved to the arena, the rain was looking more and more imminent. Some people (obviously Germans, always prepared) had come equipped with plastic raincoats. And trash bags masquerading as raincoats. The four of us were just happy. And uncaring.
The concert started, with spectacular lightning streaks happening in the background. I am not a big fan, but they do have some wonderful songs. “Yellow” and “Clocks” were the two I liked most. But then, even for the ones I did not know, the tightness of the set just made it incredible. The lightning just added to the ambience. At this point, I was on just my second beer, but I was feeling this incredible energy from the crowd, I could not have cared less. And then the rain started.
There have been times in my life when I have felt liberated in the true sense. When you have no worries, no fears, no inhibitions, nothing weighing you down mentally. One was at my first Burning Man, when I threw off all my clothes and ran after the water truck. Same feeling here. No, here I did not get naked physically, but mentally I was. All the defenses were down. I was connecting with the world. I was one with the crowd. I raised my hands in the air, looked to the sky and shouted out loud with joy.
I guess the rain just released a lot of locked up love! In the whole crowd ! And I was just tripping on it. Even poured down my second beer (i know i know .. alcohol abuse .. but I promise I will make up for it) because I knew that it was useless at that point. It was just an incredible incredible experience. I could see similar joy in the faces of people around me. I just hugged N, N and S, and just surfed the wave.
The lasers were lighting up the raindrops like little fireflies in the sky, in technicolor. The band was also into it, and did a unplanned “Singing In The Rain”.
The second magical moment came just after halftime, when the rain had ended. We were in the standing section, quite away from the stage, basically following the band on the video screens. I had been watching some people bustling about on a small elevated platform 10 feet from us. And told Navin that it seemed like an alternative setup for the band to play. True enough, they vanished from the main stage, and appeared right before us. Close enough to touch. Very very cool, entirely unexpected. Asked everyone to switch on the cell phone lights, and turned off all the arena lights. They were right in front of us, in the dark, singing against a background of lighted screens. Even did a cover of “I’m A Believer”.
I am not a big one for her worship of bands, but it was so easy to get caught up in the crowd’s high, and feed on it.
We came out of the main crowd in a while, and danced in an open area. Me holding Noura’s wet shawl, drying it out in the wind. Had some parting drinks, and then proceeded to wait 2 hours in the parking lot, waiting for the traffic to clear up :-)
Don’t know what it is (the regular meditation maybe ?), but have been feeling at ease with myself lately. Maybe this was one of the things that my mamaji refers to as “Nature Support”, a reward and encouragement !
Coming up very soon : The first day in Sana’a, and realizations after chewing some Kat !
So Nicky made a very wise decision (which is quite usual for her) and decided not to invest in the property boom in Delhi. Even better, she decided to buy a house in Goa.
After pushing the builders to finish the construction on time, she finally got a date to take possession of her “ghosla” .. it was the 8th of December. Amidst several rounds of copious drinking, we realized that much work needs to be done to make that into a livable place. The house is in south Goa, somewhere near Colva beach. The more relaxed part of Goa, away from the “party goa” of Anjuna and Vagator.
Furniture ! That was the big ticket item. As the resident “vela” , I was asked to go furniture shopping. We went to a place in Okhla and looked at some antique (or antique lookalike) furniture. Nicky made a second trip and bought herself a truckload of stuff. Shipping cost to Goa : Rs 10,000. The stuff was due to arrive on the 9th, so we had to be in Goa to receive it. Nicky and I decided to make a trip to do the formalities of the house, and to set up the place.
Ruchi came back from her U.S. trip, and was not very happy that she had not been invited. So she and Waseem decided to tag along too. We decided to be a little prudent, and actually made a list of things we would need to furnish the place (and to survive for the few days without furniture of any kind). For reference, the list is available here.
We flew to Goa on the 6th, with tons of extra baggage. Physical. And some emotional. Oh, BTW… the furniture delivery folks were TOO punctual. They decided to deliver the day before we were supposed to reach. Luckily, Gina (the builder) agreed to put it in storage in another unfinished house.
We arrived at the house in the afternoon. And were quite taken aback. The floors were all covered in sawdust. Apparently this was so that they would not get spoiled during the finishing coat of paint. And during the installation of the doors. Yes, there were no doors on any room. Luckily, there was a door on the bathroom, but no latch. So we had to sing (or make appropriate noises) while showering or crapping, as a indicator-of-presence. Luckily, no untoward interruptions were reported !
Gina (let me tell you about Gina later!) got another room cleaned up, and we set up mattresses for the night. I managed to install a fan in one of the rooms (yep .. i can do that .. it was rotating in the right direction, and it has not fallen off yet). Rented scooters, and went for dinner to Martin’s Corner. That was the only meal in Goa I could not really enjoy. The airplane food, and the random sandwiches made sure that my stomach was in no mood to accept a pomfret offering. We made some necessary purchases (read beer and vodka and orange juice) and headed back home to a well deserved odomos-aided sleep.
Next morning we were woken up by the insane sound of a rooster crowing, and christmas carols being blasted at full volume (with jhankar beats. to the uninitiated, that means a remix). To get over the rude awakening (literal), we started on a nutritious breakfast of potato chips and warm orange juice. Mixed with vodka, just to disinfect it. With this uplifted mood, we started on the 30 km drive to Palolem.
The highway is pretty good, and the traffic is light enough not to be a major hazard to life and limb. It took us about an hour and a half to cover the distance. I will not say too much about the beach : it is quiet and less crowded as compared to the northern beaches, and perfect for a little R&R. We parked our butts in a nice shack, and started on a steady diet of mojitos. Food was ok, drinks were strong, and the water was just perfect. I think I got to ingest equal quantities of all three that evening !
On Monday, we decided to go to a nearby beach to chill out. We explored Benaulim, and Nicky had to leave us in the middle to take care of some formalities for her house. I dont know if that was a good omen, but we asked the waiter at the shack (Hard Rock) for some stuff, and wonder of wonders, we found some ! We had to pay about twice the market price (in MY estimation), but it was excellent stuff. So please excuse me if I am a little hazy on the happenings from that point forward ! I do remember having to triple ride the scooty back to the house, pick up Nicky and come back. I also remember getting absolutely smashed that night.
This is a picture of Nicky’s hands, after the registration of the house. They take fingerprints for positive identification.
The next few days were a combination of chilling out at Colva, Benaulim and Sernabatim. The highlight was the discovery of the excellent “Zebop” on Uttorda beach, quite close to the house. It is an amazing place, with great food. The beach is very chilled out too. The lowlight was the food at a place called “Sinatra’s Chilli”. It was a choice forced upon us by the time of night and the intensity of our appetites. Even that was not enough to offset the crappy food.
We did manage to catch a full moon party (quite lame, i must say) on Benaulim beach, at a place called Hawaii. It was quite an interesting night at that beach, with a movie in one shack and a indian classical performance in another. It was quite interesting to see “Mr Bones”, I cannot believe that such a stupid movie can be conceived by humans. Was probably used for extracting confessions at Gitmo. Is probably classified as a torture instrument by the UN.
The party had some fire dancers, and the venue was quite trippy, with glow in the dark paintings. I managed to get some nice pics there. It was not happening enough (or we were not high enough) to actually contribute to the dance floor.
On Nicky’s birthday eve, we decided to go to party in the north. We rented a car and drove down. Well, I drove. There is a place called West End where we ended up at around 11.30 pm. Well, we did turn up there at around 9, and were informed that the party does not start till later. So we went for some food (again, crap) and came back. But at least we were able to avoid entry charges ! Good trance music, the DJ was a woman, quite cute in fact (or maybe the music made her look that way), and even though the place was not packed, there was a good vibe going. Some Dutch people were recruited into singing “Happy Birthday” for Nicky. And we ended up driving back at 2 am.
Oh, BTW, Ruchi, Waseem and I decided to postpone our return by a couple of days. But Nicky was leaving the next day, so we dropped her off at the airport after another fantastic lunch at Zebop. But we still had not bought her a birthday cake. No issues, we would stop by at the Park Hyatt pastry shop. But we did not count on the enhanced security (this was just after the Bombay incident). We managed to bluff our way past one checkpoint, but even Nicky’s magic failed to work at the main gate. In the end, Ruchi managed to beg and plead her way inside, and procured a chocolate cake. But, no knife. So Ruchi produced a credit card (unused, she assured us), and we celebrated Nicky’s 25th.
We only had to return to the airport once. Ah yes, i remember, we were out of beer, and bought a couple of Kingfishers on the way. I think Goa is the only place, where when you buy beer from a car window, the guy asks you if he should open it ! So anyway, we just had to make one return to the airport because Nicky had forgotten to take her laptop from the car. But she safely managed to catch her flight, with time to spare. I think it was possible only because the flight was at 4 in the afternoon.
The house was getting into progressive states of readiness all this time. The furniture was bought in, assembled, and the cupboards were filled. We had latches on the bathroom doors by now (and I could finally crap in peace). Nicky’s favorite orange dining table acquired some use marks. The kitchen tiles were put up. A refrigerator was bought and stocked up with beer and vodka. Final coats of paint were being done. In short, the house was much closer to livability than when we had arrived. And thats the crux, it would not have happened if we had not arrived there and pressured them to finish up. When we landed up, all the workers were amazed when we told them we would be staying in the house !
The 3 remaining peoples did manage 2 more trips to the north. The “Shore Bar” at Anjuna was great, with the sea literally washing the bottom of the steps. One night, walking back from the place, we decided to light up on the way. And it seems that Waseem dropped all our supplies on the beach. We reached Paradiso, and I could not find the pack. I managed to convince the two of them to go back to the beach and look for it. I am sure that if we were even a tad bit more sober, we would not even have tried to do such a thing. Imagine trying to find a cigarette pack sized object on the beach. In the dark. Without a torch (yeah, we had one, but had conveniently left it at home). But we did look for it, and did find it !!! I attribute it to good dog karma. I was the one who had fed the leftovers to the dogs at Shore Bar. They were fish bones, but as Navin had convinced me earlier, indian stray dogs are all cool with that.
We never did go into Paradiso (the music sounded like crap), and West End was also closed, so we ended up just driving back. We came back to West End on Saturday night, where we realized it was a gay night. Lots of local goa boys waiting to be picked up. Maybe two or three cute chicks. Was never comfortable enough to enjoy myself all night. I was just trying to cover my ass.
I am always amazed at how things work out if you dont care too much. We managed to leave the house keys one night, and had to wait for the workers, who just happened to have a duplicate set. We managed to find our way around in the middle of the night, inspite of contradicting road signs and the collective wisdom of a frog between all of us. Such is life.
So, I must say it was a great experience, something like the hostel trips of the past, sleeping on the floor on mattresses, breakfasting on vodka and beer, not caring to shower or be clean (well, that was just me, i guess, Waseem actually showered twice a day. thats why there is a water shortage in india). Managed to see a uniquely indian sight of four people leading a water buffalo into the sea. No, I am not using euphemisms here. It was actually a buffalo. And it seemed to be enjoying the surf.
Have some great pics to show for it too, although Ruchi and Nicky have made threats on my life if I put these on the web without their approval.
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