Come Back to What You Know

Thursday 18 December 2008
Verkala – Thiruvananthapuram – Bombay – Abu Dhabi – London

So I have about four hours to kill in Abu Dhabi. It's not the best place to spend time. It's too small, there's no wifi, all the food and drink is really expensive. There are annoying tannoys every five seconds announcing some flight or another.

Anyway I fill my time by completing my blog and then generally wondering around, having a look in the electronic shops. After a while it's time to board although one bright spark decides to arrange for two flights to leave within 30 minutes of each other from the same gate, er, pod thing (you have to go there to see it) which means massive queues at the security check. Despite this I manage to board the plane and I have a nice window seat at the back on the right, with a good view. Sweet.

There's a guy sitting next to me who's a student who's just been in Chennai. He's reading Maths at Oxford and reading The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Despite being and looking clearly like an uber-geek he's actually very personable and easy to chat to which is a relief.

I watch a few things on TV and then have a snooze. I think I fell asleep over Kuwait and wake up over western Turkey so it was probably a few hours or so. We head towards Heathrow from the east. The weather is a bit cloudy and it's still dark outside as the local time is about 6. After the obligitory half an hour in the holding stack somewhere over southern Essex we make our way across London to the west.

Compared to the less wealthy countries I've been travelling to recently, London looks huge and opulent beyond belief. The street and building lights look like some scintillating computerised display, and the light cloud cover makes it look like steam or smoke is rising off the land, like there's too much energy to be contained.

It's always a magical sight and is made all the better when the cloud parts to be completely clear and dead in the centre is Hammersmith, Charing Cross Hospital and the very house in which I live in.

We arrive.

Collecting my bags and making my way into town on the tube again, it's great to be back. That's not that I didn't enjoy being away, but there is something comforting about being home again. The darkness and the drudgery of the tube always appears exciting when you haven't been on it for weeks. It's funny to look at the people's faces all drained of energy and happiness, wondering what their lives must be like, knowing full well that I was one once and will be once again.

Three months away, four countries visited, though India of course is like 30 different countries squeezed together and trying to competitively negotiate some way of working together and against each other at the same time. I've come back tanned and relaxed, with more stories than Scheherazade (well, almost). Perhaps the main benefit has been to have a break, just go and do something completely different, see new things, meet new people. I guess looking back on previous trips it puts it all into perspective – everything's OK. Even the hardest moments – not knowing when to get off the train to Surat Thani, the fight in Jaipur, the train to Bombay, driving mopeds in Arambol – they weren't that stressful, or bad. In fact they were quite fun.

The best bit really has to be Bangkok, Goa and the ashram. Bangkok was a fun city to go out in, and remarkably it was perhaps the only city on the whole trip that had bars where you could meet people and that were open late. If I had spent more time going out there I would have torn it up.

Goa was just fantastic as life was reduced to eating, sleeping, sunbathing, swimming, relaxing, drinking and going to an excuse of a bar. The exercise I did made me feel really healthy and put me in fantastic shape. And then to follow that with the yoga and meditation in the ashram really made me feel relaxed and content.

It always helped to meet some cool people along the way, of all shapes and sizes. Hung from Vietnam, Steve, Mike and Michelle from Ozland, the bar owner in Seam Reap and the waiter in the Dead Fish Tower, the nightclubbers of Bangkok, Amanda and Jonny the Scottish couple, the Burmese chap in the bar, the Welsh guys, John and Mark in Delhi, the Flemmish couple in the desert, Megan on the train and of course, Tim, Pat and last but not least Evan. Pete, and of course the good doctor get a special mention, but I've met them before!

But perhaps what I appreciated most about this holiday is the simple life of travelling, with little or no concern, and the ability to have some time to myself on occasion, to contemplate the nature of life and experience, and to try to achieve a wider perspective on the human condition. I know I've had a glimpse of that, and the challenge will be to maintain that on a day to day basis, once I have reintegrated myself with the routine, day-to-day working world.

That, and the challenge that will be facing us all over the next two years, as we leave the dream of the great moderation behind us, to enter the dream of the second great recession. Really, all we have is now.

A Sort of Homecoming...

Wednesday 17 December 2008
Verkala – Thiruvananthapuram – Bombay – Abu Dhabi – London

So Evan wakes up and leaves before I get up. We say our goodbyes and he's off to the train station on a day and a half trip to Bombay. He's been a great, easy going travelling companion and his accent, macking talk and fierce eyes have kept me entertained. I get up more or less after he leaves and take it easy sorting myself out and getting breakfast and so on.

I take a taxi from Verkala to Thiruvananthapuram and I get an Ambassador. If there's one car that's typical of India it's the Tata Indica. But I had already driven one of those (while drunk, at night, with no headlights and an drunk, emotional, bleeding and lost tourist driver as my passenger) so that's yesterday's news. The other car that's typical of India is the Ambassador, a stately, regal 1950's looking creation that screams style and class. It's probably a copy of a famous western car but I'm not a car geek so you'll have to guess the make and model.

Anyway so I get to travel in one as my last taxi trip in India (and my first was a Tata Indica, so there's a pleasant poetic mirroring there). The trip is quite straightforward and takes an hour. It's on better roads so it's smooth as well.

At the airport they don't allow you to take lighters on the plane (or indeed pack them in your luggage apparently) so the two that I had been saving – one with an image of Goa on it and another with the Gateway to India – were lost to fortune. Bastards. All things must pass, as the doctor told his constipated client.

The flight to Bombay is fine. It's on Jet Airways and I was expecting a rough and ready no frills flight, but it was surprisingly upmarket. There was a fair amount of leg room and they included a meal which you didn't have to pay for. Not bad. They also played instrumental lounge covers of Christmas carols as we descended which was bizarre. I'd only seen two signs says Merry Christmas since I'd been in India, both of those were in Kerala which seems to have a sizeable Christian population but none in Goa where Christianity is the dominant religion and every fifth building seems to be a church.

Coming in to land, we passed over the Bombay peninsula and surprisingly it didn't look too polluted. We banked right and headed into the countryside. A short distance to the east we passed over a large mountainous area with flat tops like Table Mountain or that area in South America. The tops were covered in trees and it seems like a very incongruous landscape to have so close to the chaotic metropolis of Bombay. Though when I say close, it was probably something like 100 kilometres away.

I arrived in Bombay and made my way to the international terminal. Though the fact that I didn't have a (paper) ticket seemed to be incomprehensible to these people. First they said I wouldn't be allowed on the transfer coach so I'd have to pay for a taxi. I made up a booking reference number and they let me on.

Then at the international terminal they asked for my ticket at the entrance door. When I explained my situation they just waved me in anyway. The check in counter wasn't open so I killed some time blogging. The lack of ticket also caused some confusion at the check in as, in typical Indian style, there are about 20 people to check your details before you actually check in and I had to explain what the situation was to each one. Ironically of course, when I actually came to check in, there was no problem at all.

In the departure lounge I have a chicken byriani as it would be wrong to leave India with the last two meals I ate being a pizza and a fried breakfast. It was at the equivalent of a fast food joint and the taste was average, though the presentation was very good.

I've started reading William Darymple's The Age of Kali, a series of articles on India at the start of the 90s. The first few chapters are all about one of my favourite Indian topics, political corruption. Apparently it all started in Bihar and spread out from there. In The White Tiger Adiga calls the poor, north-eastern part of India “the darkness”, and the richer south-western part “the light”. Darymple expresses his concern about the spread of this corruption from Bihar further west, to all of India (“the Age of Kali”), and it's no doubt that some of that has happened, though not catastrophically.

The reason I mention this is that the person at the centre of Darymple's first chapter is the then and I think current Chief Minister of Bihar state, a person who made jokes about how he forced paying customers out of their seats on a train, and when someone complained they beat him up and left him bleeding on a train station platform. He had many criminal charges filed against him including murder, and due to the undefiled judicial system he would never be brought to trial. He was a village thug turned gangster turned politician, as in India politics and the mob are more or less the same thing. At the time of Darymple's writing he was the Defence Minister.

The reason I mention all this is that at the start of the flight I devour my way through some Indian papers, mainly full of post 26/11 (the Mumbai terror attacks) political fall-out and Tendulkar's match-winning 41st test century. But there is some forgettable article is this man's name, still active in politics. Turns out he's now the minister for railways.

If democracy means that the people get the government they deserve, then India must be a country full of careless, corrupt, short-termist, heartless, moral-free idiots. Wait a second...

One thing that Evan said stuck in my mind. Africa isn't known for its wealth or particularly the sanctity of its politicians, though there are a few notable exceptions – Botswana springs to mind. But what Africa does have is better hygiene. There the people are poor and they wear tattered clothes and so on. But at least they care slightly more about their environment in the sense that they tend to clean up after themselves.

In the whole time I've been here I've never seen an Indian use a dustbin. In fact, I've hardly seen any public dustbins, which may be due to terrorism. It seems that the whole country is one large dustbin. The same seems to apply to the way they build disgusting concrete blocks in front of ancient or historical buildings. There's no care in their actions. The roads are full of rubbish, their buildings are rubbish, and so are their politicians. It puts the pathetic rhetorical crises of the Daily Mail into sharp relief.

Well excuse me if I tar one and a half continents in sweeping generalisations. Of course the devil is in the details and with a billion people who are all of adorning every surface with more decoration than is strictly necessary, there is a lot of detail. I'm not down on India, despite having had some torrid experiences along the way. There are plenty of people that were kind and genuinely helpful or interested. On one occasion some Indians came up to me and took their picture with me, just because I was there it seemed. Or maybe it's because I'm extremely good looking. Must be one of those two reasons.

Anyway the point I'm trying to make is that India really needs to buck its ideas up. But as a travel destination, if you're looking for something different, something out of the ordinary, and you don't mind being uncomfortable, there is a lot to see and experience here.

On a separate note, the third world, eh? And India, for all it's technological reinvention and Mumbai elite, is 80% a third world country. As indeed are Cambodia, Vietnam and to a lesser extent, Thailand. What has this travel, these experiences taught me?

In the third world, human life is cheap. No social services, health care, education, water, electricity and so on. These are luxuries we understandably take for granted (and then whinge about). It seems the true judge of a civilisation or state is how it treats its poor. Not because it has a well meaning socialist manifesto, but because it has enough spare money to be able to, and then also does something about it.

Living with your extended family for all your life? Having 2-3 people sleeping in every room of the house (and usually the total number of rooms is one)? I can see why so many people live alone in the west – living with a wife for most your adult life is a challenge according to the divorce rates. Living with people you haven't chosen for all of your life must be even harder. If you've got the money, you might as well leave home. You've never had it so good.

Back on the plane I started watching the Ricky Gervais “vehicle” Ghost Town which hadn't been release in the UK when I left. It was OK and worked well for him, though I didn't get to the end as we started to descend in to Abu Dhabi. Ah, Abu Dhabi airport. Oh joy. Hello again...

Are there far too many ... fish in the sea?

Tuesday 16 December 2008
Verkala, Kerala

So I wake up before Evan does and go for breakfast. As I'm there eating my porridge and fried eggs there's a shout from a nearby table. There are dolphins swimming by. Every now and then you see a fin, but occasionally one of them jumps far out of the water in some acrobatic manoeuvre, as though a man in a wet suit with a fish was standing above it. Bloody show offs.

So I spend the day in the taxing routine of going to the beach and chilling out. The waves are quite big and it's fun to jump in and get wiped out. We meet the Aussies again briefly, but despite half-formed plans to see them again in the evening, we never do. We go to dinner and then to the bar but there's not much happening. We do end up talking to a local who's a DJ in either Mangalore or Bangalore (I couldn't quite make out which) but has lived most of his life in the Emirates. Turns out that once again a hot Russian woman has come over and taken advantage of a poor, innocent Indian man.

We call it an early night as we both have travelling tomorrow and need to wake up fairly early.

Escape from Samsara

Monday 15 December 2008
Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Dhanwanthari Ashram, Neyyar Dam, Kerala – Verkala, Kerala

So I have a fairly restless night's sleep. Someone wakes up at 4 to leave, then everyone else wakes up at 5. We're lying in as it's our last day and getting up at 5.30 to chant incomprehensibly for an hour doesn't seem worth it. I miss the meditation but that doesn't seem to be the main focus here. It's all about the chants.

As we're lying in we're actually breaking the law – attendance at all sessions is compulsory – but we're yogic rebels and we don't care. As a result, at about 7 someone comes round and wakes us up. They ask us when we arrived (presuming we didn't know the rules), Evan quickly answers that we are leaving today and that seems to resolve the situation.

When we arrived Evan mentioned that the place reminded him of a boarding school, and in a way it is a bit like that. You sleep in a dormitory, you all eat in a big hall, there are bells denoting when different sessions start and finish, if you stay for a long time you have duties to perform to clean and maintain the place, and you have to get a special pass and sign out when you want to leave the premises and go into town. However the beautiful setting, the fellow students, the location and the curriculum set it apart.

After waking up properly we go for our last yoga session. I manage to do the half headstand for the first time with some guidance from the teachers which is cool. I'm feeling a bit tired though so I don't put as much effort into it as I could yesterday. I have the “crow” pretty much down though. On the way out we can hear the lions roar from the sanctuary across the lake. Once again the yoga leaves me feeling awesome. We buy a book that has the details of what all the different moves are so I can do this at home too. I'm glad to have visited here as it gives me a new yoga sequence to play with, one that is about half the length of the sequence that I had been taught in a class in London.

So we pack and leave and take a rickshaw to Verkala. It's a good distance, at least 50 km, and doing it in a rickshaw with two people plus luggage is a bit of an interesting challenge, though my no means the most uncomfortable I've been on this trip. We stop halfway through so Evan can buy some chai tea, though afterwards we find out that it's only the tea part of chai tea, and he still needs the chai part, but he finds that in Verkala.

I actually fall asleep on the way, which is a bit of an achievement given how much the rickshaw moves around, how cramped it is and how bumpy and poor the roads are. Eventually we arrive and sort out a hotel to stay in, then go out and explore the town.

This place has a beach, but it's pretty small, probably two or three hundred metres long. It makes you wonder why this place is a resort, but I guess it must be because it's the only beach for quite a few miles around. The waves are nicely choppy and there is a bit of a rip current. The beach is backed by a crescent of dark red sandstone cliffs about 8 to 10 metres high. At the top of the cliffs are a row of restaurants and shops, and behind them the huts and hotels.

It's very much a developed tourist town, but in a fairly good way. It doesn't have the size of the beaches or the laid-back, everything's-made-out-of-wood, hey-I'm-just-living-in-a-hut-on-a-beach feel of the best beaches in Goa, but it isn't developed badly and is pleasant to look at.
It also seems that half of Tibet is here as well. Every shop seems to be selling Tibetan goods, most of the workers look Tibetan as well, and there are plenty of signs in the windows of the shops saying things like “Free Tibet” and such. Why they have all come here in such concentration is a mystery. I guess it's warmer in Verkala than Tibet, certainly at this time of year.

So we have lunch and then jump in the water. There's a bit of cloud around again today. The water feels cool at first but is actually fine. There's a large sand bar underwater here, so as you walk out the water reaches your shoulders and then as you walk further out it becomes more shallow again so the water's just above your waist. We splash around a bit and I do some swimming.

In the evening we head to a restaurant and have some food, then go to the local bar that's open late but as with everywhere in India (except Mambo's) only plays music at low volume. We chat and drink a bit and I start to feel tired and want to go home.

Just then a nearby table asks us to define the difference between irony and sarcasm. This propels me into my second wind and we start chatting to the other table. There's four Aussie guys and one German girl. Yet another German girl. I try my German on her again and it's all good. At one point one of the guys inadvertently comes up with the best pun based on Goa / Goan that I've heard of – unfortunately I've forgotten it by the morning.

During a lull in the conversation I start up “Pirates versus Ninjas” and end up improvising a story on the day in the life of a ninja, which cracks up the table and one guy thinks it's a routine from a professional comedian that I've nicked.

So the end of the night comes and we all go home, unfortunately alone, and it turns out it's only 5 o'clock.

I Feel Better than James Brown

Sunday 14 December 2008
Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Dhanwanthari Ashram, Neyyar Dam, Kerala

We wake up at 5.30 to go for a morning meditative walk around the Neyyar Dam. We would have seen the sun rise but there's a big bank of cloud hogging the top of the mountain to the east so the sky just gets lighter. We walk at quite a pace which is a shame as nice contemplative walks where every step is considered would have been more appropriate.

When we arrive at our destination there's a nearby church that is playing scratchy Indian music at full volume over a dodgy sound system which pretty much ruins the tranquil atmosphere. Despite that, the leader still manages to conduct a chant for what seems like a couple of hours, all the time at a pretty low volume that is more or less drowned out by the irritating background noise.

Once we return there's meant to be a prayer session but we kind of skip that and go straight to the cups of tea. That's followed by the morning yoga session. I put on some new white trousers that we both bought at the ashram as they look quite cool and are nice and baggy so just right for yoga. With mine on Evan says that I look like a white Bruce Lee. Dammit, I do! This time round it's a lot easier. I don't stop sweating like a bitch, though Evan reckons that I didn't sweat as much as last time. I manage to do the “crow” where you balance on your hands, for a couple of seconds, and the “bow” which I could hardly do before, comes to me very easily this time and I manage to lift my knees quite a way off the floor. Evan does a headstand that I can't manage yet and he's very proud!

I feel great afterwards and we go straight to the food hall for the morning feed. I'm feeling good, I love the yoga and hopefully I'll be OK for the evening session as well. Evan and I discuss what are plans are for the last few days and we decide to give Verkala beach a visit tomorrow, for our last destination before we both return home.

Evan sleeps for a bit and I wander around and check out the internet in the local town. On the way down it's clear that the local area is a tourist or wildlife park as there are all these statues of people doing random things like fishing in a river or praising a god. After I return we go to yoga for the evening session and once again it feels great. I can really feel the benefits in my posture and general well being.

After a fairly unappetising dinner we grab a bit more at the snack hut and then go for the evening meditation. Once again the meditation is too short and the chanting is too long, though at least today I can follow the words so I know what they're saying. The talk is hosted by this English girl who has the misfortune to look like the catatonic drug addict imprisoned in the underground lair in Enter the Dragon. It's probably OK but after an hour of chanting I can't be bothered. Luckily it doesn't go on for too long and we head back to the dorm.

I'm Only Sleeping

Saturday 13 December 2008
Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Dhanwanthari Ashram, Neyyar Dam, Kerala

So the bell goes at 5:30 though I don't hear it and Evan wakes me up. It's still dark outside as we make our way to the main hall for the early morning chanting and meditation. We grab a seat at the back and after a few sonorous oms we close our eyes and meditate. I find my mind drifting off onto various familiar topics every now and then, but manage to bring my mind back to my breathing. My legs are occasionally uncomfortable but I deal with it without too many problems.
After we open our eyes again it's now daytime and they begin a whole bunch of chants, most of which I can't make out the words to. For those that I can it mainly consists of the names of Hindu gods and things promoting meditation, generosity and so on.

After that's finished there's a welcome snack of tea and jam sandwiches (we don't eat breakfast until later) before our first yoga class. It was slightly different from the yoga classes I've taken before, but as I hadn't done any yoga for a while anyway, it was still hard work. Given the environment too, I was sweating like a pig in no time. Afterwards I was literally drained.
We then had some food that was fairly good vegetarian stuff, though Evan didn't find it appetising. We went to get some extra food from a nearby hut. I had a red banana for the first time. It's like a normal banana but a bit thicker, and a slight taste of apple, but 99% the same as a yellow one. However with the yoga, the early wake up, the travelling and the general lack of food, I was knackered. We went back to the dorm and I slept for a good while.

We woke up to get some tea and the scheduled lecture for after wasn't taking place, so we went for a quick walk outside. The lake is next door so we had a look at that. It's fairly mountainous round here and though there is some cloud cover it still looked pretty good. There were a few locals and a couple of westerners swimming in the lake, despite a sign saying that there was a risk of being attacked by crocodiles.

After that we were still tired and went back to the dorm and slept some more. There was a second scheduled yoga lesson in the evening, but we're both so knackered that we decide to give it a miss. Instead we go next to the vegetarian meal in the evening and this time I eat as much as I can – I've learnt my lesson.

In the evening there's another session of chanting and meditation. It's the last session for the Teacher Training Class that have been here for a month and they're demob happy. There's only a brief session of meditation which is a shame as I like to get stuck into that, and then what seems like hours of chanting. The TTC group are really into it and at one point some guy stands up and starts dancing like a geek possessed. I can't really get into the chanting bit, especially when it goes on for so long. It's all about praising the Hindu gods and I'm all about No Religion Only God so it doesn't do much for me (Evan, being Catholic, doesn't get much out of it either).
Once that finally comes to an end there's the graduation ceremony for those on the TTC. They manage to deal with that quite quickly which is good work. After that however there is a so-called talent show. This consists of an MC who with bad timing and a heavy German accent tells some jokes that are actually quite funny but lose a lot in the delivery, like “If Sanskrit is god's language is that why only he can understand it?”

The highlight is some guy playing a shaky version of The Sound of Silence. There's yet more chanting which is a bit of a bore, a basic magician and a slide show that never occurs due to technical problems. There's a funny bit where the yoga teachers go through the whole routine in about two minutes to show how you can fit it into daily life, and it ends with a swami who can only speak in Hindi boring everyone to death.

It's now 10 o'clock and time for bed. Despite all the sleep I've had during the day I have no problem falling fast asleep again.

Meanwhile back in Communist Kerala

Friday 12 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa – Thrivunanthapuram, Kerala – Neyyar Dam, Kerala

So I sleep OK on the train though I'm woken up a bit earlier than I would have liked by the guy bringing us breakfast. It was a little bit hot and sticky but bearable. There was hotter weather around the last day, and we're heading south too. I manage to doze a bit more before waking up properly and eating. I have a dosa for the first time, though I can't really tell what it is – some pastry, some vegetable matter. It's probably not the best introduction to it anyway.

I crack out the iPod and listen to that to pass the time. I doze off occasionally on my elbow. The tropical landscape of Kerala passes by outside the window. Lots of palm trees. The men down here wear sarongs with a vengeance. I don't think I've seen any men wearing sarongs until now. But from what I can tell the majority of men – or certainly a large number of them – wear them in the south. Some of them tie up the ends at the front, which makes them look like they're wearing big nappies. Also, the lingua franca here is Malayalam which has to be the longest if not only palindromic name for a language, and as a bonus has a lovely curly-wurly script. I have a byriani for lunch which this time has chicken in it at least.

My iPod runs out as it's only half charged so I resort to reading, which I haven't done much of over the last few days. As the journey progresses I take out my laptop and update my blog for the last few days as I haven't been doing that either. I didn't want to take it out early so as not to give too many people a chance to know that I have it.

As we pass through more developed parts of the state it becomes clear that people are fairly well off here. The houses are in good condition and actually look really desirable – not something that can often be said. The socialist-communist government of this state seems to be doing something right. Indeed, Kerala has the highest literacy and life expectancy of any state in India. However their industrialisation lags behind somewhat.

Talking of life expectancy, when the British first came to India the life expectancy of the area was a mere 21 years. After they left, it was 33.

So we arrive at Thiruvananthapuram at night. Evan needs to sort out his return ticket so he does that. We toy with the idea of getting a bus but luckily Evan agrees to taking a rickshaw which makes everything much easier. We travel for the best part of an hour up and down hill roads, through various towns until we eventually reach the ashram.

It's a nice place, landscaped well, set into the side of a mountain beside a lake formed from a dam. We grab a bite to eat (vegetarian of course) and then go to the dormitory which is nice and clean. It's some of the best accommodation that Evan has stayed in so far, which I guess says something about his budget.

I have a much welcomed shower after our long trip, and I notice that I'm looking pretty tanned and toned from the exercise that I've been doing, which is nice. By the time I finish it's lights out; it's 10:00, and we have to wake up at 5:30...

One Last Hurrah

Thursday 11 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa – Thiruvananthapuram

So I force myself to wake up early today so I'm tired for the journey tonight. It my last day on a beach and from what I can tell the last chance to sunbathe on this trip, so I aim to make the most of it. However there isn't much wind and it's simply too hot to stay out in the sun for more than five minutes. After a while when the sun in lower I manage to walk around on the beach which is more interesting and less hot, but not quite the full on sun tan that I was hoping for.

I make a brief visit to the internet café to download some lyrics. Yes, there's another open mike on tonight. Even though we're leaving, the train is about 11.30 pm so we have time for dinner and a quick set from me. I seek out the lyrics to Fight Test by the Flaming Lips, as it's a cool song, should be easy to play, and easier to play than Do You Realise?? which, despite being a better song, is a bitch to play and sing with no practice.

So I have a quick meal and then go up on stage. I've run out of new songs to play, so I'm having to rely on the more obscure stuff that I know. I start off with Stockholm Syndrome by Yo La Tengo (“I touch it” in Spanish), then Lost Cause. I play Fight Test for the first time on stage and it goes very well. It's a beautiful little song (“... I let him take you...”).

The idea after that was to do requests but as I couldn't hear anything from stage I just did the songs I'd had the best feedback about: Ready for the Floor, There is a Light that Never Goes Out, and Crazy. It's a good, fun way to end my stay at Palolem. Unfortunately from the still lingering heat, I managed to sweat like a bitch. So much for trying to keep clean ahead of my overnight trip to Kerala.

Old Dave does a new poem, one that he's written that evening, which is very funny. Young Dave gets up to do a few songs, but when he's due to go on stage he walks off, leaving the organiser guy in the lurch. I jump up on stage and do a quick song to pass the time. The only thing I can think of at short notice is the first two verses of You Are The Everything.

Anyway Dave gets to do his set and it a good'un, he has a real broken passion in his voice. Immediately afterwards we have to go to the station, so we get our bags, quickly exchange email addresses and leave.

Unfortunately we have to walk across the soft sand on the beach as it's a full moon, a spring tide and the water is all the way in. That's a complete arse as I don't have a rucksack and walking on the soft sand is a real effort. I start off with my suitcase on my head until my neck muscles hurt, then transfer it to my arms. I get there in the end, not without breaking into a nice sweat again.
Once at the station we're mega early so we kill time on the platform. There's another English guy from Sheffield there as well that we chat to. There are also three small puppies scampering around the platform that are cuter than anything. They even fall asleep all curled up over each other in a massive outbreak of dangerously high levels of cuteness. I take a photo.

I have a quick snooze on the platform as I'm tired and eventually the train comes. We board the non-AC sleeper carriage. It's essentially the same as AC but with open windows and the carriage isn't in as good condition. There's also a pervasive smell of fish for some reason, but thankfully it's not too strong. There are no sheets but as it's warm it doesn't actually matter, and I'm soon asleep.

Same Old Same Old

Wednesday 10 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

Basically tanned as much as I could during the day, went to Rockit again for dinner and Café del Mar. Saw three crabs having a fight on the beach, and one dog being attacked by a pack of others. Luckily someone came along and stopped them.

It's My Party...

Tuesday 9 December
Palolem Beach, Goa

So as Evan and I had booked our train tickets to go to the ashram already, we knew that I wouldn't be able to play another open mike night before I left. Luckily old David spoke to one of the organisers of these things and managed to convince him to put on a special show just for us today at our local restaurant.

However, that was yesterday and now it was today, and no one seemed to be sure if it was going ahead. We didn't see the guy all day, there was no sign outside the restaurant (we were going to have a sign saying “Charlie's Party” though maybe leaving out the “s”) and the party existed in a state of Schroedinger-like uncertainty for most of the day.

For my part, I took it easy and did my usual relax and sun tan routine. As I come back to my hut as the sun is going down Evan tells me that it's not happening. Oh well. I shower and make myself look pretty for the evening. I head back out to the restaurant and lo and behold, the guy who's organising it is there with his guitars and we're back on!

Tom, one of the guys who runs the restaurant, tells me he will dig a hole for a bonfire and we can arrange the tables around it once people have finished eating. Spookily, that's exactly what happens. Meanwhile I still have heartburn from the previous night. To rid myself of it I usually drink milk and eat plain bread. But the milk here is hit and miss. Usually I only drink black tea abroad as the milk usually ruins it. But I go for broke and luckily it's OK. Well, for the first three glasses anyway. The fourth one that I order is I think some sort of ghee or something similar, so I force it down and leave it at that.

So anyway we all sit around: me, Evan, Old Dave from Scunthorpe, James from Birmingham, young Dave (who's 30) from Gloucestershire, Pat, Tristra and Jamie the Canadian girls, and Lucy from Teddington. As well as us there's a handful of other people, including the token Russian girl who's friendly with a local.

We sit around and me and young Dave play a whole bunch of songs, so many I can't remember. However I do play the set list I was going to play on Sunday, which consists of Where Is My Mind, Made of Stone, Gin Soaked Boy, Baby One More Time, The One I Love and There Is a Light That Never Goes Out. I've never played Gin Soaked Boy before and I didn't even have time to practice, so I sight-read it. Luckily after one false start I was in the swing of things and did it justice. It went down well and Old Dave actually knew the song. I slip out Let It Come Down Gently and Brick Lane as well, and young Dave is particularly a fan of the first one.

Old Dave even gets up to do some poetry, two of his and two of other people's. His ones are the better ones. We play and we play and the organiser guy plays too, and then after a good while we're too tired to play any more, and it's time for bed.

When Routine Bites Hard

Monday 8 December
Palolem Beach, Goa

Well today was a good day. I'm getting into the swing of this beach life now. It basically consists of waking up, having a breakfast of friend eggs on toast and porridge, putting on the sun tan lotion and having a morning tan, going for a swim, cooling off in the shade, having some lunch, relaxing some more for digestion, doing some more sunbathing in the afternoon then maybe a quick final swim and then out for a meal in the evening, and late drinks in Café del Mar.

I have a proper sunbathe. Up to now I've only been going out in the sun after about 3, but by then it's actually pretty weak and nothing much seems to have changed recently, so it was time to up the ante. I buy a weaker strength cream and spend about an hour in the sun when it is stronger. I lie with my head in the shade, and luckily there's a wind so I don't get too hot.

After that I go for a swim and try a bit of front crawl. Luckily I don't veer off to one side by mistake, as can often happen when there are no lines on a swimming pool floor to rely on.

It's pretty much standard fare from that point on. What Palolem really lacks is a good bar that's open late. Café del Mar is open late, but it's not that full, it's not an easy place to mingle and the music is just a fraction too quiet to dance to. Basically the fun police need to stop closing down everything that's enjoyable.

We're hitting the vodka, lime and sodas which are an awesome combination. Unfortunately all that soda gives me heartburn after a while so I stop, and it convinces me to head home sooner rather than later.

Return to Hot Chicken

Sunday 7 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

So it's time to face your fears. Scooters.

Evan and I needed to book our train to Kerala so we could go to this ashram. I also needed to use the ATM, and we wouldn't mind visiting some other beaches in the nearby area. So we took one scooter, and I went pillion. I was crapping myself frankly, but I knew I had to do it as otherwise I'd be stuck there.

So we did the ATM and then went to the train station, but the counter only opened at 3, so we went to Agonda Beach just to the north. It's damn quiet there, probably bigger than Palolem but hardly many buildings, only saw a couple of restaurants. We had lunch then went back to the train station and bought our tickets. And then home.

I'd survived. There were scary moments when we were going fast but we got through it. Still not keen on driving one myself through.

I go for a swim afterwards and then chill out as per usual. In the evening we go to a fish restaurant that young David has found and we all have a meal there. I have a sneezing fit as the cold that I've had for the last day comes into its own. I work my way through the entire serving of paper napkins at our table and have to ask for more.

After that my cold has calmed down so we make our way back to Alpha Bar where I was promised a long open mike session. We make our way there through the dark lanes behind the beach only to find for the third time that it's closed. We find out later that it had been raided by the police after we left the last time, and for “security reasons” (read: not a big enough bribe) it was closed down permanently.

There's another open mike at the Royal Touch restaurant so we make our way there. Unfortunately as it's lateish, the line up is full and there isn't any room for us to go on. As I'm coming back from the loo I have another major sneezing fit, and I see it as a sign that I should head home. I sit and watch a couple of songs anyway, including a woman with a bad voice doing an acoustic cover of Madonna's Please Don't Tell Me to Stop, which actually works quite well with her shaky voice. It gives it an air of honesty and vulnerability.

Anyway, there isn't enough to keep me there so I head home and get some rest.

Strangers in the Night

Saturday 6 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

Pat's back. With his single-minded Mancunian-ness (beer, fags, Manchester United) with a slight sprinkling of the human sciences on top, he brings a unique flavour to the mix. It's a shame Tim isn't here too.

We hang around on the beach, trying to tan a bit, swimming every now and then. While we're in one café, the German girl arrives and gives me a small henna tattoo on my arm, which is nice.

This was a big sign but after that I never saw her again. Her loss...

The evening was simply eating at the local restaurant and then off to Café del Mar for late drinks and a Man U game. But there's not much going on there so we head home.

Once More Unto the Beach, My Friends

Friday 5 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

So we move place today, as some people that Evan was talking to that he met while playing cricket on the beach were in a place nearby that was much cheaper than ours. It was slightly less kitted out than ours but much bigger, and with the reduced price we could have a hut each and still save money.

I've started reading Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth, which is like a much more practical version of his first book, The Power of Now. It's all good and no less that two German guys stop and talk to me about it as they've read it too. It's a good read, and although some of the things that Tolle says are a little out there, and some of the explanations that he gives are clearly not true, the general meaning of what he's saying still holds. Though it's easier said than done to be aware of this on a day to day basis.

So we spend more time on the beach, as this is what this place is for after all. The beach here is a big crescent with rocky outcrops on either side. There are beach huts along most of it's length with wooden fishing boats pulled on shore in front of them. The tide makes the water retract a fair distance as the beach slopes very gently into the water. And there's a whole lot of dogs and a handful of cows that wander around.

In fact the dogs here, as well as being plentiful and thus breaking out into a howling chorus every few hours or so, have taught themselves to cool down in the sea. You'll often see a hound pootle around in the shallow water a few inches deep, and then lie down on its front legs sitting with its face to the shore, as the waves run over its back. And then they will stay there for as long as they like, without moving. Ingenious!

Evan has been talking to some Canadian girls that are friends of the other people he met while playing cricket, and found out through them of an ashram in Kerala. I had almost resigned myself to spending the rest of my time in Goa as it's so nice here and I like hanging out on beaches. But I had wanted to go to Kerala just for variety's sake, and I had wanted to do some “proper” yoga. This looks like the ultimate chance to combine the two. Evan will sort out the details.

Well it turns out there is another open mike night tonight. Again there are a lot of old timers present (the League of Gentlemen's Crème Brulée comes to mind) most of whom have no sense of rhythm or pitch playing old blues and country songs. Then there are a couple of new oldtimers who are actually pretty good, especially on guitar, though they still play old songs.

So I was promised the chance to play a bunch of songs, but as they allow these fogies to play five songs at ten minutes long each, I only have the chance to play two songs. Plus the police have brought tonight's curfew forward to 10 pm, presumably as they didn't extort enough money from them last week.

So I take to the stage and do a monologue:

“Well, given the events tonight I had wanted to play a song originally by Easy E and Dr. Dre from a band called Niggaz with Attitude called Fuck Tha Police, but I don't know the chords and I don't know the words, so I can't. Instead there was a song originally written by Willie Nelson called Stupid, but he rewrote it and it became a bit hit for Patsy Cline, then Gnarls Barkley came along and made it into something completely different...” and I break into Crazy.

There's a guy sitting next to me that improvises a drum beat on an Indian drum and he does a good job of it. The song goes down well and I start my intro to the next one:

“I was walking on the beach today and the warm water was lapping at my toes, the sun was just starting to set turning the sky a deep shade of orange, and above me I notices a crow circling high in the air. Then I noticed a silver jet plane working its way across the sky far above it. And then I saw the moon almost at half strength, much higher above that. And I remember thinking to myself, 'Isn't life ... shit?'” And I go straight into Karma Police by Radiohead.

That does down a storm and they tell me that's it, which is a shame as I was going to introduce There is a Light... which the German girl requested as Es Gibt Ein Licht, Der Nimmer Vernichten Kann. But it wasn't to be. After the curfew hits, we all gather on the beach with unamplified guitars and take it in turns to play acoustically. I get to play There is a Light, as well as plenty of others including Man on the Moon, The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine), Baby One More Time, Space Oddity, my Land Down Under / No Woman No Cry mashup, and so on. Everyone has fun and then I head off home...

On my way back I hear a strange noise and I follow it to one of the wooden fishing boats on the shore. I look inside and there I see the cutest puppy dog ever mewling it's little head off. Well it breaks my heart and I can't leave it there, so I rub its neck so it relaxes and trusts me, and then pick it up by the scruff and place it on the sand outside the boat.

Well of course it's very happy and as I start to walk to my hut, it begins to follow. I was kind of hoping that it would realise that I wasn't its mother and walk away, but no, it followed me all the way home and sat outside my front steps wanting to be taken in.

I tried leaving it there for a bit but it started mewling again and then the local dogs in this area started growling and barking at it. I had images of the puppy being torn apart by these dogs, so I had to do something. I lead it back to the beach, and then I tried to introduce it to some of the other dogs on the beach, who in a 101 Dalmations kind of way would somehow lead it back to its rightful place.

But no, they just barked and growled at it too. And started chasing it around. It was becoming very scared and the slaver was dripping off the other dogs' razor sharp glistening white teeth, so I picked it up, placed it on my shoulder and walked with it for a bit.

It started licking my ear with an enthusiastic frenzy, which was cute yet slimy. After a while the other dogs went away, so I put it down again. It excitedly ran around, sniffing everything and exploring the area, when it suddenly found two other people walking down the beach, and decided to follow them instead of me. I took that as my cue and made a swift exit back home.
Shortly after returning a mega-long period of dog howling and barking erupted on the beach. I couldn't help thinking that the puppy had caused it, and somewhere it was even now being ripped to shreds. I had to listen to my iPod to block out the noise and fall asleep.

That's Me in the Spotlight

Thursday 4 November 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

Not much happened today. I basically spent the day reading, relaxing, swimming and sunbathing. I saw two bulls cautiously butting each other's heads but it didn't escalate into a full blown battle, which would have been fun. I went to buy some new books as I'd read all of mine. I bought a couple of Eckhart Tolle books as they're really cheap, a William Darymple book and another book of a spiritual teacher (though I don't like the term spiritual; I don't know what to replace it with either, perhaps “wide perspective”).

I did a bit of exercise as there's a random bar thing right next to where we're staying and you can do a few pull ups on it. I then go for a swim afterwards. I'm feeling pretty healthy after all that. Evan talks to some people who are staying a few huts down from us and are paying half price. We check them out and although the workmanship isn't as good as ours the rooms are bigger and they're half price so we decide to move tomorrow.

We find out there's another live music / open mike night going on, so we head to that. I have an excellent Thai green curry. Then they start playing and after the main guy does his thing I get up and have a go. This time there's a six string guitar rather than the twelve string that I had to contend with yesterday, and the fact that I had now played once meant that I was more in the swing of things.

I kicked off with the classic There Is a Light That Never Goes Out, followed by Wish You Were Here, Mr. Jones and finally Live Forever. I play a hell of a lot better tonight than I did before and I can put a lot more expression and dynamics into it. They go down a storm and the English guys we're sitting next to are very appreciative.

Next up is a Welsh girl with a strong accent but a great voice, and she sings her own songs. There's a lot of soul and all the complex, passionate internal workings of the female psyche come out in force. Evan's in love: “I'd mack her for her voice” is his assessment. I can't say I disagree.
There's a Cornish old timer who comes up and plays some blues on a scratchy electric guitar. Then I'm called up again. I try to remember the lyrics to Crazy but I can't so as Evan requested it I start with Losing My Religion, then I slip in Let it Come Down Gently without anyone noticing, followed by Green Eyes as I'm running out of ideas, and then finish with Man on the Moon, and even though I get the chords in the chorus not quite right I more or less get away with it.

After that there's a lot of attention from various people in the crowd, but since they're all seated in groups there's not much I can do. Though I probably could if I really thought about it.
That's followed by a Yank who sings some country style numbers, and some guy from London who looks like Edward Norton joins him on lead guitar. They've never met before and the lead guitar guy aces it. It's a great moment.

After that we join the English guys, a German girl and a couple of Canadian girls and go to the late night bar we went to the previous night. I have a long conversation with the German girl in German and as per usual she is very impressed. We all have a good laugh and a good chat. One of the English guys tells us a story of a massage he had that very nearly turns into something more than he bargained for. An Australian guy joins us briefly and tells us a story of a racist dog which was quite funny.

Sometime after one Evan and I feel tired and we head back.

I Caught a Fleeting Glimpse out of the Corner of my Eye

Wednesday 3 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

So I start the day with a full English and I read in the papers about the latest in incompetent, corrupt politicians and police. This country is a mess. And then I start a new book, The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga (who I find out also won this year's Man Booker Prize for a different novel) which is about the poverty and corruption within India, which is fortuitous.

I'm not a big fan of novels. I often find them hard to read if they're not believable enough or too detached from reality. I forced my way through 100 Years of Solitude and Midnight's Children once. Those are hours that I'll never get back. I could bear it if the surreal realities they describe had some kind of point to it (and Midnight's Children goes some way to achieve that), but they feel like art for art's sake. That may be some people's cup of tea but it's not mine.

I prefer factual books or novels that are relevant in some way or have enough emotional resonance to keep me interested. Catch 22 fell into the latter camp, and of course it's denouement makes it all the more powerful. 1984 gripped me with it's relevance to the politics of power and the human condition. The White Tiger gripped me as it described all the bits of India that you don't get in the guidebooks or the history programmes, and much that I've experienced personally already on this trip. In a large sense this is the poverty and the corruption and how India's democracy works against it. But also there's a car crash, descriptions of the pollution in Delhi, examinations of the lives of the very poor and the lives of drivers albeit for rich Indians rather than tourists. I've been there, worn the badge and given away the t-shirt.

The narrative is written from the perspective of a poor Indian from a village in Gaya who makes a success of himself though I won't spoil how. It's a gripping read and I read it in one day.
That's partly because we're getting very relaxed and inactive in this beautiful setting. In the afternoon there's some light cloud so we go kayaking around the island that forms from the headland to the north of the beach at high tide. Going round the point of the headland the wind is on the nose and it gets a bit choppy, but we fight through it. I was hoping there would be a beach on the other side but it's just a rocky coast. We drift back to our beach and admire the view of the palm trees and the hills covered in jungle behind them. As we approach the shore the breakers surf us in, ending it easily. The exercise had worked my shoulders nicely.

The afternoon is spent reading, swimming (I love swimming in salt water, it's so much more enjoyable than in a pool), sunbathing and realxing. In the evening we head out to see what's happening on the beach. There's a guy doing an acoustic session, and Evan helpfully nominates me to sing a couple of songs while the main guy takes a break. I haven't played in a month or sung for a good while but I give it a shot anyway.

I roll out Green Eyes and The One I Love and play them passably. The last one gets a nice round of applause given as it's famous and has a strong finish. I gratefully return to my beer afterwards.

Once we had dinner we try to find the Alpha Bar to see what's happening tonight, but it seems to be closed. We find the one bar that seems to be full tonight (it seems to be a different venue each night) and although there's an actual bar there isn't much mingling. We have a couple of beers and call it a night. From all the kayaking, swimming, food and beer I fall fast asleep and immediately begin snoring. Evan has to shake me hard to wake me up, but after that I turn on my side and stop.

All that Fall

Tuesday 2 December 2008
Palolem Beach, Goa

I read the local Goan paper over breakfast which is full of seemingly justified bile aimed at the corrupt, lazy and self-serving politicians whom the journalists are holding responsible for the security failures that led to the Mumbai attacks. Apparently the attackers had been stockpiling explosives in Mumbai for days without anyone doing anything about it. Fishermen who had seen boats arrive alerted the police, who couldn't care less, given that it didn't provide them with an opportunity to line their pockets.

Politicians who had promised to be tough on terrorism in the past had essentially done nothing about it, as a result the commando unit that was stationed outside of Delhi took nine hours to arrange a flight, and astoundingly took three hours to travel from Mumbai airport to the Taj hotel as there wasn't a bus available. It tells you everything you need to know as to why India is such a mess.

Anyway Evan was feeling better but still a bit ill so he took it easy. I chilled out and more or less finished Niall Ferguson's Empire which is awesome. Interesting to note the parallels of the end of the British Empire due to the debt of war, and the current threat to the American proxy empire due to the debt of war, and fiat money. I also managed to work on my tan a fair bit, and go for a nice swim that made me feel all healthy and proper.

We have dinner and then seek out a bar that I was given a flyer for. It's at the far end of the beach round the back and we have to ask directions a few times but finally find it. It's like a mini open air club amongst the coconut trees that line the back of the beach. They're selling huge mojitos for 60 INR so I have to try one of them. And then there's a rumble of thunder.

The weather system that's been harassing us over the last few days has gone now, so I didn't think much of the thunder. Then a very few spots of rain appeared. And very, very gradually the rain starts to fall. We all congregate around the bar as it's the only place with a solid roof.
While we're waiting there and the rain starts getting heavier, suddenly there's a loud crash, followed a second later by a rolling sound, and then a coconut appears from the roof we're standing under and lands on the ground. From the sound it must have more or less landed straight above me, and if the roof wasn't there I would probably be in a bad way. Death is cheated once again!

So by now it's raining like a bitch in full on monsoon style, and there's about ten or twelve of us standing around the bar. And then the power cuts out. In these beach resorts in Goa the power tends to fail every now and then, usually remaining off for about five minutes or so, before returning. So now it raining hard, we're standing under the roof by the bar, and it's pitch black. The staff light a few candles but there's a good wind blowing so only a couple stay lit.

Then the power comes back on. Then immediately goes off again. And this happens again and again before it more or less gives up the ghost. After about half an hour or so the rain eases off almost completely to just a drip, and with the power still off we decide to call it a night and head home.

But with the power off there's practically no light at all in the forest behind the beach. Mobile phones provide a bit of light but not much. We can't go back the way we came as the ground was a mess so we have to take the main road. It takes us on a scenic route that is much longer than the way we came but eventually we return home. Some Russians and some locals walk most of the way with us, and they seem to know where they're going so we follow them. By the time we're backit's only 10.30 but with the rain and the power out, almost everywhere is shut. Evan is hungry and luckily once the power returns we manage to convince someone to cook him some food. Bravely he goes for steak but apparently it's OK. After that we call it a night.

Put on a Smiling Face

Monday 1 December 2008
Baga – Palolem Beach, Goa

So we get the hell outta dodge. Baga really is a shithole, full of fat, ugly, old people and Brits drinking lager for breakfast. Don't go there.

Crows wake us up. There seems to be a small battle going on between some rival crow nations just outside our room as they're making a loud fucking noise. I eat some breakfast while Evan talks to taxi drivers about how much it costs to get to Palolem in the far south of Goa.

With that sorted we head off, though my laundry from the night before isn't dry, so we have to pack it in some plastic bags and take it with us. The drive is pretty sweet, through a bunch of mountain roads with suicidal overtaking manoeuvres. The only thing of note was that we tried about six or seven different cash machines before we could find one that worked.

Once in Palolem we sorted out a place to stay pretty much on the beach and had some lunch. This place looks almost more beautiful than Arambol. Smaller waves, possibly a smaller beach but slightly more developed, but only by a fraction, but enough to make you think that there's something happening here.

I have a brief swim but then walk down the beach to check out the scene. It's a whole bunch of awesome wrapped around a slice of fun, sprinkled with some more awesome for good measure. We shall do well here.

There's a devastating sunset. The cloud cover that's been pestering us for the last few days seems to be breaking up a bit now, although I did hear some rumbles of thunder today.

Night falls and we walk to the restaurant next door and as we turn the corner we see an event of astronomical proportions. Two planets have been visible to the west for some time, usually one vertically above the other. However today they were alongside roughly horizontal. And with a waxing crescent moon pointing downwards just beneath them, it looked like a smiling face in the sky. I managed to take a picture of it with my camera. In the papers the next day they had a picture too – apparently the two planets were Jupiter and Venus. I didn't know you could see Jupiter with the naked eye. And it was brighter than Venus too.

We have some dinner and it's top quality. I have some chicken noodles and it's one of the best meals I've had in India. After that Evan is feeling ill so he goes back to bed. I venture out first into town and then along the beach. I can't find many places that are jumping so I check out the internet for a bit, then have one beer back at the restaurant and call it a night.

I'm Not Working Class, Because I Don't Work

Sunday 30 November 2008
Baga Beach, Goa

I have a good sleep and wake up late. Thankfully I'm not hungover, however Evan isn't so lucky and is in a “funk,” as he calls it, for most of the day.

We do very little. I do some internet stuff. Evan calls his girlfriend again. I join him on the beach later on but as it's still cloudy there's not much sunbathing happening. I just about finish 1984. Man I love that book. If there is hope, it lies in the proles. There is so much that it true about the nature of hierarchical society and the nature of power in there. And it's reminiscent of the Khmer Rouge: I understand how, but I don't undxerstand why. There is also much truth relevant to today about the subjugation of the “proles.” About the only thing that he doesn't pick up on is the relation to all of that to ethology and the behavioural aspect of genetics (although it's there in the subtext). Since that line of science hadn't been explored then, I'll let him off.

In the evening we watch some football. The Manchester derby is pretty uneventful. The Chelsea-Arsenal London derby that follows is so soporific in the first half that we both fall asleep and then decide to head home (after waking up again). Of course during our walk home Van Persie scores twice in three minutes and we miss it. We catch the end of the match at another bar and Arsenal win, ending their league losing streak.

Not much happened today, really.

Following the Herd

Saturday 29 November 2008
Arambol – Baga Beach, Goa

We woke up and had some food. We chatted with the boys. Tim and Pat were in India for a good few months, whereas Evan and I were only here until December. So the two of us decided we would make a move for another beach, while the boys decided to stay and enjoy the paradise in Arambol.

From the bike drive Evan had checked out another beach that he thought was worth a visit, so we headed for that one. We arranged a price with a driver and headed off.

We travelled to Baga, a beach further south than Arambol. It was more populated there, with a bigger beach and more tourists, but not quite as beautiful or idyllic. Once we arrived we arranged some accomodation and had a look at the place.

It's definitely a tourist centre here, with what looks like lots of two-week holiday makers. There are a fair amount of Indian tourists as well, and more than enough of your fat Brits and Russians eating plates of chips. And lots of old people too. Not exactly glamorous.

We have a bit of a wonder around town to find some other accommodation as ours is a bit basic. There are loads of guest houses here. Every building seems to be one. Most are decorated in bright colours in a basic format with lots of balconies and balustrades, perhaps the result of the Portuguese influence.

We have a walk along the beach and try out the water. It's cloudy still and there's a strong wind so the water's a bit rough but it's fun to play around in. After a short while however the lifeguards (yes, surprisingly they exist in India) blows whistles at everyone and tell us to come in as it's dangerous. There's a strongish cross undertow on the backwash but nothing to worry about. As most Indians can't swim however, I guess it's better for them.

We go back and freshen up. Evan has to do something, can't remember what, probably speak to his girlfriend for an hour or so. So I head out and check out a few bars. I kick things off with a G'n'T and then a Mojito. After that it's a house cocktail that's sweeter than a Mars bar covered in Crunchie. But like a trooper I force it down.

While I'm drinking my cocktails there's a man with a synthesizer who is performing a number of songs, while what appear to be his daughters dance arhythmically in front of him. It's mainly Indian songs, but there's a few classics thrown in. Glen Madieros's 80s hit Nothing's Gonna Change My Love for You and The Birdie Song. It takes me back over 20 years and I feel like I'm on a package holiday in Spain.

Evan hits the strong beer like the true African that he is. First up is a local drink called Hayward's 5000. Presumably it's called that as given the effect it had on Evan it must have an alcohol content of 5000%. He's soon drunk as, and after dinner we hit up the clubs.

It's an eye-watering 800 INR to get into the club that will let us in – Mambo. That's more expensive than most clubs in London. Inside it's playing R'n'B so Evan is happy and dances in what can only be described as an interesting fashion. There's an air conditioned dance floor and an outside smoking area. The beers are a steep 100 INR for a small bottle, though that's still less than half of London prices.

Inside it's mainly guys though there are a few girls. I chat to a few people. There's some people from Denmark, others from Leeds who are convinced a fight is about to start as they're not Indian. The trouble is that they're not in Chapeltown and are somewhat out of their depth. I meet some fierce black dude with thin dreads from south London who's friendly as anything. I dance with a Russian girl for about 30 seconds before she runs off.

It gets to about 4 and the place is thinning out so we call it a night. We grab a bite to eat – Evan orders a curry by mistake – and head home.

Motorcycle Emptiness

Friday 28 November
Arambol Beach, Goa

So someone had the bright idea of hiring some mopeds to go driving round the local roads to find a few other beaches and see which of them might be good to move on to. Now, I've never driven a moped or any version of a motorised bike before, so how hard could it be?

Driving a moped is simplicity in itself. There are no gears so you only have accelerators and brakes. You accelerate by rotating the top of the handlebars towards you, and the brakes are the same as on human powered bikes – squeeze a lever in front of the handlebars.

So I mounted my steed, set my motor running, and jerked forwards. This wasn't comfortable. Rotating the handlebars backwards wasn't a natural feeling for me. That felt like breaking. And that would turn out to be a problem.

From our starting location we had a couple of narrow streets to navigate and then a wider main street to go down. I worked my way past the first street, only narrowly avoiding running into the back of the guy in front when I accelerated instead of braked. Hmm. Not so sure.

Then on the next street the same thing happened again – I accelerated away when I meant to break, and ploughed into a row of stationary mopeds at the side of the road.

Now if you had told me I was going to do that and asked me what the resultant injuries would be, I would have said that I would have a lacerated leg, skin scraped off and muscles gouged, and possibly a broken bone. As it was, all I had was one small graze and bruise on my shin, and a lot of adrenaline in my system. I was a bit shook up but totally fine.

The bike was only slightly damaged, a few skuffs here and there, a cracked indicator light and one dent. The guy charged be 1000 INR for it which was perhaps a bit steep (I did try and barter him for it but for some reason he wouldn't budge) but affordable so I paid it anyway.
No more mopeds for me. On a wide, open road with no traffic and probably a smaller motor, I could learn to ride a moped quite easily. On a narrow road in India, it wasn't going to happen.

I calmed down back at the room, and went for a walk on the beach and a swim. There were a few clouds in the sky – and proper clouds, like ones that could actually block out the sun rather than the wispy efforts which were all that I had seen so far – and a harder than normal wind coming off the land rather than the sea. A weather system was moving in from somewhere. I wouldn't have thought it possible, it seemed like constant sunshine all the way. But here it was.

I made my hay while the sun shined and tried walking down the beach to the next one along. It didn't look far, about 20 minutes walk, but it turned into a good 45 minutes at least. When I returned I ate and blogged as the sky became fully overcast.

Having finished that I chilled out by the beach huts and waited for the guys to return from their trip. They wanted to be back before nightfall, and as it became darker and darker I started to wonder whether they were lost or injured.

At about 7.30 they turned up and they were all OK – there had been some confusion in the directions but they returned home eventually. They'd been to a couple of the next beaches along. Apparently none of them were as nice as Arambol but Evan had a plan for which one to go to next.

We chatted about my accident and they all agreed that the first part of the journey – from where we picked up the bikes, through some narrow streets to the main road in the town – was actually the hardest part of the whole tour.

We all had a few drinks, some food, and watched the movies in the local bar. Then called it a night. As we walked home, we noticed that there had been some light rain while we were in the bar. Rain? Rain?!? Humbug!

The Aftermath

Thursday 27 November 2008
Arambol Beach, Goa

I started the day by checking out the news. The death toll had risen to 100 now, and the reported places attacked grew to include the domestic airport, an office building, and a total number of locations increased to 7 to 10.

I emailed and texted a bunch of people back home to let them know I'm OK. I also read the reports on a number of sites but the news was roughly the same. The head of the anti-terrorist squad in Mumbai had been killed. There were apparently hostages still being held in the hotels. But apart from that things were still a bit sketchy and news organisations were still waiting to receive information from reliable sources on the ground.

Evan and I killed time around midday by playing a few rounds of pool at a cool bar (score an evenly matched 2-2) after which Tim and Pat joined us for a few drinks. Now it was mid-afternoon and the temperature was just about bearable to stand in direct sunlight, so Tim, Evan and I went for a jump in the sea. We had some fun generally messing around in the waves, trying a bit of bodysurfing. It's not really a surfing beach but there is the odd consistent small sized wave that you could surf on for a handful of seconds if you wanted. But there were more swimmers than surfers by a long shot.

I laid in the sun for a bit afterwards to try and catch some rays before it set. I was there for a short while when a cloud popped up just before the sun reached the horizon, so I ended it early.
We then all went back to the same bar with the promise of two for one cocktails, though we found out that the cocktails were a bit weak. However I at least was compensated by the chicken massala that I had for supper, which was super. I think massala is quickly becoming my favourite meal out here.

We went to the film bar ideally to watch The Matrix but we missed that. I can't remember what was on when we arrived but it wasn't very interesting so I chatted to some guys Tim and Pat were playing pool with. They were very posh, young, public school types who had taken their fashion tips from James Blunt it seemed. It turns out that one of them, who actually looked a bit like James Blunt too, went to Shrewsbury School, albeit ten years after I had been there.
More surprisingly than that, he was the cousin of Matt Randall, who was in my Basic Year group. Small world, eh?

Jackass the movie started playing as two girls joined us at playing pool. They were intially disgusted with it but, as with everyone, they couldn't stop looking. As the idiots on screen do their best to do everything but severely injure themselves, the viewer simultaneously tests themselves to see how much of it they can actually watch, and the adrenaline and emotions that result become more addictive as the film goes on. Everyone loves Jackass. I think we ended up beating the girls just about, with me taking the winning pot. My dominance of the pool table continues.

One Man's Freedom Fighter...

Wednesday 26 November 2008
Arambol Beach, Goa

Ah, paradise. Every few minutes walking around here I remind myself of why I wanted to come back to somewhere like this. And for the other guys too, they feel the same way. I can see why people keep on coming back.

I didn't do too much today. I bought a few things from the town, read my book, had a dip in the water. I took it fairly easy just so my stomach could get some rest. And if I wasn't a bit ill then I would probably be doing exactly the same thing. You'd want to in a place like this.

Evan randomly met up with a Kazakhstani girl who we had met briefly the previous night, and ended up disappearing for most of the day with her. She was a funny girl – beautiful, sexy, from Kazakhstan for crying out loud, here on here own, and seemingly keen to “party!” She didn't have much English and it looked like she was pretty well off. What could her story be? A poor little rich girl whose travelled all the way to Goa from Kazakhstan. The two obvious ones seemed to be gangster's moll or some high class stripper. She certainly danced like one. Were our prejudices getting in the way? I guess the philosophical concern is ... dammit, she's hot.

So fair play to him. In the evening we went to a restaurant where they were showing movies. We caught the end of Fellowship of the Ring, then the Jim Carrey vehicle Liar Liar, which actually is quite funny when you're drunk (probably the target audience). And then we heard the news.
Attacks in Mumbai. We went to another floor of the bar and watched the broadcast of an Indian 24 hour news channel. At this stage what was known was that there had been attacks on a number of locations in Bombay. There were four mentioned: Taj Mahal Hotel, Leopold's Café, Oberoi Hotel and Victoria Terminus. Apparently guys with machine guns had just run in to these places and sprayed machine guns at everyone. They were claiming 4 dead at this stage. It was crazy. Two days ago I was in two of those locations, and my hotel was in the same block as two of those locations. It was a damn near close run thing.