beach bums

Saturday April 7, 2012

It’s easy to loose track of the days here.  When I realized yesterday was Good Friday it was sort of a strange thought. Life, here, feels independent of festivals and markers.  It’s strange how a holiday destination is like that.  It’s like real life doesn’t happen in Goa.  To a large extent it’s true.  Even the people who work here do not live here.  Most of the waiters in the restaurants are from Northern India or Nepal.  The shop keepers selling every kind of item that tourists might like are from Kashmere where all the beautiful fabrics come from.  We’re here at the end of the season.  In a few weeks the temperature will be in the high 40s and the tourists and staff who have lived here for the last six months will all go back to their real lives.  It’s interesting to be here as things are wrapping up while we are wrapping up our trip.  There is that sort of sentimentality and relief similar to what I have always experience at the end of the school term.   The feeling like you wish it wouldn’t end because you never thought it would and you’re enjoying yourself so much but like you can’t wait to escape it.  The difference between this and the end of school is that I am leaving vacation to go to work instead of the other way around.  I’m not looking forward to going back to many things about life: like a full time job, responsibilities and having to cook and clean for myself.  At the same time I do really look forward to being back where things, especially food, are normal for me.  Most of all I can’t wait to be reunited with family and friends though without the internet connection dictating the duration of our conversation.  To see the people I love face to face again is a thought so wonderful I can hardly express it.  Only two more weeks and we will be home! 

I’m really sad to not be home for Easter.  It’s harder for me to miss being at home for this than it was for Christmas, though for very different reasons.  Easter has not been robbed of it’s true religion for the sake of those who are uncomfortable with its reality in the same way that Easter has.  Those who do not wish to believe in Christianity simply do not celebrate it.  Those who do accept the truth get to enjoy it in all its reality.  I love the way that our church celebrates Christ sacrifice and resurrection.  Every year anyone who can pull themselves out of bed meets on the shore of South Cooking Lake. We sing, read the passion story and watch the sun rise.  It’s very powerful.  That community of believers is something I’ve dearly missed.  I was surprised and delighted that we were able to have that same sort of family feel amongst fellow believers at MM but it’s not the same as people who have known you most of your life. 

I love Goa.  N and I both feel like Aramabol Beach (where we were in Nov and are again now) is the perfect vacation for us.  We have a little, ocean view, beach hut.  It’s literally made out of woven grass but it has power and running water in it which is lovely.  There is quite a hippy party scene here but it’s easy to avoid if you’re not interested.  Although if N goes walking anywhere alone he does get offered, “hash, crack, anything for you, you like sir?”   We found a quieter location this time after being on kind of a noisy part of the beach last time.  There are tons of beach front restaurants all along the beach.   At night the tables are all lit with candles it’s very romantic.  Two can dine on a delicious meal for $6-10.00.  It’s great too because Goa doesn’t just serve Indian food all the restaurants have pizza, pasta and a variety of other tasty international food. 

The shops are very geared towards tourists.  Thankfully they sold alo vera!  Even lathered in sunscreen on hour walking down the beach and the backs of my knees look like rip strawberries.  Even more special I have a farmers tan from all our modest days at MM.  The first chance I got in Kerala I put on a tank top, forgetting how long we’d be out I didn’t put on sun screen so burned my shoulders really bad.  Then being here I put sunscreen over the burned shoulders so now I just have this white strip at the top of my arm, above the farmers tan and below the peeling shoulders.  One word sums up this look-sexy!  So unfortunately thanks to the pasty gene that my pasty British heritage bestowed onto me I have been enjoying the beach from the comfort of our beach hut. 

We are hoping to either rent a scooter or go paragliding in our last two days.  Paragliding seems less scary, in theory, because you have a person who knows what they’re doing with you.  N and I trying to manage a scooter down sketchy Indian roads is a bit of a disaster in my imagination.  Poor husband though is getting a bit worn out of our only amusement being shopping these past few days.  So I feel it is my duty to be brave for the sake of fun.  I always regret it when I don’t join him in these activities.  I’m still mad I chickened out of shark-cage-diving, in South Africa. 

So clearly there is nothing overly exciting to report as our trip winds to a slow close.