Photos: Goa’s Working Bicycles February 28, 2009

Ice Cream Ice Cream bicycles find the tourists, but they also ply the slimmest village lanes – especially when school gets out.	Zalor Beach, Goa, India
Metal Cans Using the empty space within the frame of a bike, a person can wheel 80 kg of flattened cans to a yard 8 km away – with a broken chain.	Nehrul, Goa, India
Rice Snacks A Hercules loaded with light and colourful snacks waits for its rider, who sips tea at a nearby chai shack.	Chogam Road, Goa, India

A Conversation with G.O.D.* February 17, 2009

Apparently, a little eyeliner works wonders

Dear Ulrike,

G.O.D. here. I’ve been hearing from you a lot lately and – you’re welcome. It’s my pleasure to see you surrounded by the beautiful nature, kind people and little joys that I have tucked away for you to discover in Goa. It’s one of my favourite places, and  – judging from the volume of prayers I hear from the Catholics there – I know I did the right thing, sending the Portuguese over like that.

Sunday it pleased me to see you on your bicycle and grinning with delight on the stretch of meadow between Guirim and Parra (the one with the scarecrow woman in a patch of garden – I’m glad you notice my subtle gestures), and Monday evening I felt your wonder after I put you in the company of Nobel and Booker prize luminaries and other great minds to inspire those books you said you’d write.

By the way, what’s taking so long? You’re here in Goa, exactly where you wanted to be, you’re exchanging bon mots with the region’s finest published writers, and you haven’t even drawn up an outline?

Honestly, Ulrike, what more do you need to fulfill your life’s destiny?

Oh, right, that. This afternoon, I heard that old prayer. You were cycling up the long hill from the Betim ferry jetty and a sadness that you’d been carrying all day pressed down on your heart and the pain blurred your eyes with tears. You felt betrayed because this sadness – the one that you thought you’d left behind in Canada – had found you today, here in Goa.

Love.

Ulrike, I’ve surrounded you with love. You have newfound aunts, uncles and cousins who have looked after you; neighbours who worry about you when you come home late; friends who share chai and musings; colleagues who encourage your voice; comrades who share your passion; strangers who gift you with smiles. I’ve even thrown in a storeful of tolerant clerks, five affectionate kittens and  two lusting admirers, for heaven’s sake.

What? Sure, they’re married, but love is love. No – I’m not suggesting you sin – I’m just saying it’s  better than nothing, right?

I don’t know how much longer it will be, Ulrike. Maybe if you just took a little more care with your outfits and wore some makeup…(joke)…what I meant to say is: yes, I know you’ve had a rough time of it. You’ve fallen in love with men who didn’t love you; who wanted to change you, who missed their mothers, who hated their marriages; and who returned to me after huffing the tailpipe of an idling Toyota.

I know that one really hurt, and I wish I could explain. I know you’re strong, and now – well – you’ve learned to be humble. Sorry about that, it was out of my hands. But hold faith, Ulrike, and trust me. Be kind and honest and keep writing, keep writing, keep writing. When it’s time, he’ll find you and you’ll find him. You want a sign? Sure, I’ll send something good, I promise.

No, he won’t be married. Yes, he’ll love, respect and accept you as you are…but a bit of eyeliner wouldn’t hurt.

Oh, lighten up Ulrike! Now get started on that book and let me worry about the details.

———————————-

*Goal-Oriented Director

Getting Lost in Bardez February 15, 2009

The beauty of toddy tappers and chicken guts

A cultivator of coconut sap

Bardez is a taluka (region) in the state of Goa. I cycled about 40 kilometres of its backroads on my one-speed Atlas on a Sunday afternoon.

“Hello,” called out a man’s voice. I looked behind me, didn’t see anyone, spun around and still didn’t see anyone. I had parked my bike on the shoulder of a Siolim sideroad and at that moment was pointing my camera at a very picturesque laneway with a purple bike and an artfully painted coconut tree.

“Hello!” called the voice again, and I could tell he was having fun with me. I followed the trunk of the coconut tree upwards and caught sight of a half-naked man crouched in the tree’s  crown of fruit and foliage.

“Hello!,” I called back, “Toddy?” He nodded, and carefully wrapped a freshly-cut shoot end with a length of trimmed leaf so that the white fluid oozing out of it collected in a narrow-necked clay jug. He was a “toddy tapper” – a cultivator of coconut sap. Many agricultural lands have coconut trees along their edges, and when you cycle by you notice that there are crescent-shaped cuts up the length of the trunk at one-metre intervals. Toddy-tappers use these notches as steps – they dig their bare toes into the two-inch deep cuts and climb up the trunk as easily as if someone is pulling them on a rope.

At the top the toddy tapper checks the level of the sap in round jug, and when it’s full he brings it down and pours the fermenting liquid into a larger holding tank strapped onto the back of his bicycle. When he has collected enough of the fluid, he or someone else distills it into a uniquely Goan liquor called feni.

Sex in Goa February 9, 2009

A single woman’s dilemma

Goa: where good vegetables go bad

A few readers have complained that my blog has  “Travel” and “Magic” but – with the exception of “Bicycles and Bare Breasts” (which is not about breasts at all) -  not enough “Sex” stories.

There’s an obvious reason for this – I’m not getting any – but it’s more complicated than that. First, some history…

Ten years ago, I cycled solo through Thailand and Laos. I didn’t have sex with anyone because I had a boyfriend to whom I swore I’d be loyal. But I did see other peoples’ “sex”. A Thai petrol-seller told me about a French man who started a family with her then fled back to Europe; a Thai glass blower told be how he had many “sisters” (mistresses), and asked if I’d like to be one too?; a German woman told me a Thai man had pursued her endlessly then dumped her when she “put out”; a British man told me how easy it was to find a Thai “girlfriend” for the price of a pair of branded running shoes.

Sex is a part of a traveller’s experience, even when you’re not having any. I’ll keep my ears open for other people’s stories, but until then I figure I have one of six options if I want to experience sex before I leave.

1. Casual sex with a foreigner

This is easy: put on a hot dress, head to the tourist beach nightclubs in Baga or Anjuna and wait. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. The thing is, I was born in 1961 and turned legal in the disco era – I’ve been there, done that and really, there’s no adventure to it. It’s just tawdry.

Goa Cycle Club’s first ride February 8, 2009

Goa Cycles! Families and kids join the inaugural tour

(L-R) Martin (and Pia in carrier), Ulrike, Milan, Anibel and Luis (click to view more photos)

The first ride of the Goa Cycle Club happened in Panjim on Sunday February 8, 2009.  It was scheduled to start at 10am, but I forgot the key to my cycle lock (my bike was stored at Luis’ overnight) and so we had to jump in his car, drive to Alto Porvorim, grab the key and drive back.

We cycled from the GPO to the Mandovi ferry jetty, and along Dayanand Bandodkar Marg to the front of Kala Academy. We joined the Ferus-Comelo family – Martin, Anibel and youngsters Milan and Pia – for chai, snacks and chat, then continued cycling along the Promenade to Miramar Beach. It was a short ride, but great for getting acquainted.

We all agreed to do it again soon. I’ll create a temporary “Goa Cycle Club” page on the Girl Gone Goa website and will post upcoming rides and events as they arise. Feel free to contact me by clicking Comments.

Photos: Goa bicycles February 6, 2009

Bike at Rest Verem is a small but busy crossroad of a town on the north side of the Mandovi River. It’s crazy how unassuming but photogenic it is. (Verem, Goa)	(Goa, India - Ulrike Rodrigues)
Dynamic Duo India’s mainstay work bicycles in Goa’s capital city: Hercules and Atlas (Panjim, Goa)	(Goa, India - Ulrike Rodrigues)
It’s the real thing Coke and Pepsi are outnumbered by the variety of local “brews”, sometimes given very unique names. Naturally, a bike a not far away. (Fountainhas, Goa)	(Goa, India - Ulrike Rodrigues)

Managing the Servants February 3, 2009

Living with domestics can get personal

"It was John's responsibility to keep the place free of dust, dirt and pests."

“You can’t trust them to do a job properly,” says Mrs. Telles. “I have to watch these dum-dums like a hawk.” She has several “servants” to look after her property, dogs, and eighty-one year old self, and her Defence Colony neighbours come to her – as Aloysius did recently – when they’re looking for a new one.

When I moved into Aloysius’s Porvorim house here in Goa, “the boy” was here and had been caretaking the two-bedroom house for eight years. It was 26-year-old John’s responsibility to keep the place free of dust, dirt and pests; water the vegetation in the yard; and generally make the place look lived-in to discourage break-ins while Aloysius and his family lived in Mumbai.

I’ve learned to eat with my hands, say Deo Bore Kurung (thank you) in Konkani, and haggle the price of pau (Portuguese rolls) from the bike vendor. Now this Canadian would get a taste of Managing The Servants.

Photo: Fountainhas in Panjim February 2, 2009

A neighbourhood at “golden hour”

The Portuguese quarter of Panjim, Goa, India

A dozen or so blocks of Neoclassical houses with narrow lanes mark the eastern boundary of downtown Panjim, Goa’s capital city. Many have retained their coast of ochre, pale yellow, green or blue (or all four, in this case) – a legacy of the Portuguese insistence that every Goan building (except for churches, which are always brilliant white) should be colour-washed after every monsoon.