Goa

Last week, a couple of us made a visit to the city of Goa. Goa lies on the west coast of the country, overlooking the Arabian Sea. The city is a tourist hotspot, with hundreds of thousands of international and domestic visitors every year.

Hailed as one of India’s most beautiful places, the city’s reputation proceeds itself. I had no idea what I was in for, because like any natural wonder, photos did not do it justice. The best I can do to describe it to you is to say that we spent the weekend in paradise. The monsoon rains had created the green lushness of a rain forest—a rain forest with warm, sandy beaches and palm trees. In 1999, National Geographic Magazine apparently compared Goa to the Amazon and Congo basins for its rich tropical biodiversity. Its wildlife sanctuaries boast of more than 1512 documented species of plants, over 275 species of birds, over 48 kinds of animals and over 60 genera of reptiles. In spite of this, I only managed to see a couple mangy dogs and a crow. Oh, and there was a wildman who lived on our beach named "Pedro", but I have no way of proving that he is actually some other bipedal Hominidae primate, decended from a seperate branch in the evolutionary chain.

The monsoon season was still in full swing, but we avoided rain the entire weekend. And since monsoons chase away tourists, we also managed to avoid crowds. We swam in the ocean and walked up and down the beach. And we feasted. The beaches are several miles long, with little restaurants along the entire stretch. Dinner was my favorite part of the day: calamari, king fish, and shark, all prepared with a uniquely Indian taste. And entertainment comes free with every meal. The sports bar 60 inch pales in comparison to the 100 mile wide displays found in Goa. Our tables sat directly on the beach, so we to had front row seats to the main event. It's almost exhausting watching wave after wave climb the beach, only to be pulled back into the sea a moment later. They didn’t give up though, which was admirable.

Our dinners were always illuminated first by the yellows and oranges and purples of the western sky over the water and minutes later by the intimate glow of candles on the table. It was incredible, and what pervaded my mind more than anything else was the thought, “This is so beautiful. I cannot believe how lucky I am.”

The experience seemed even more incredible when you consider what it took to get there. The journey was absolutely horrible. Unless you’ve experienced the Indian bus system for yourself, do not attempt to empathize with me. For over 14 hours, we spent the night being thrown around the bus like rag dolls while the driver set national transit records. Hitting holes in the road and flying around corners at 100 km per hour makes even air ride suspension resemble the sensation of a footloose wagon rolling down a hill on the Oregon Trail. The Indian government is exploring options to extend this virtual reality experience to American theme parks by summer 2009. We were exhausted and we were miserable, so the best we could do was to try to sleep.

This didn’t work though, and after an unknown lapse of time, I was awakened from a dream by a painful strike to the side of my head. I was very upset because it was a pleasant dream (something relating to being trapped in a cement mixer), but the throbbing pain in my temple demanded my attention. My neck muscles must have made some attempt to relax during my sleep, so when we hit an especially deep rut in the road, my head was bashed against a window. Fortunately, the window didn't break, so I said a prayer of thanks and made my way to the row of empty seats in the back of the bus with a firm resolve to slip soundly into a coma. I stretched out across the seats and was sound asleep within 20 seconds.

Then it happened. Imagine the most traumatic emotional experience of your life and then hit yourself in the face. The bus driver slammed on the brakes for whatever reason, and I was wrenched out of sleep and launched from my bed. Completely unable to brace myself, I smashed my face into the back of an armrest on the seat in front of me. Pain shot through me and I struggled desperately to lift myself back into the seat. was in shock, so it was difficult. A moment later a dull ache began to form in my throat, and I realized it must have taken a hit as well. I tried to swallow, and a stinging pain confirmed this. I lifted my hand to soothe the burning in my chin and when I held it to the light a moment later, I realized that it was covered in blood. And then, I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry not from the pain, but from sleep deprivation and the utter sense of desolation. I was miserable.

I huddled in the corner of the bus, dreaming of my American home, imagining how wonderful it would be to have a soft, warm bed and some waffles. And then I did about the only sensible thing left to do at that point; I started to laugh. I imagined watching it all happen in a comedy movie, and I laughed. And then I realized that my life in India basically is a comedy movie, and I decided that things weren’t so bad after all.

The Imprisonment of Alexi

Alexi is another foreign exchange student at my college. He’s from France. We were having dinner a while back when suddenly he said, “I went to jail last night.” We stared at each other then burst out laughing. “What?” I asked.

Apparently he and some friends were having a little get together the evening before, and their music was playing a little too loud for a neighbor’s comfort. Some time after midnight, one of his friends came running into the room yelling, “The cops are here! Turn off the music!” They did. They turned off the music, and they turned off the lights too, and when the cops knocked on the door, they pretended to be asleep. The officers refused to go away, so finally someone got up and to see what they wanted. In the groggiest tone he could muster, the kid says, “Can I help you, officer?” The cops insisted on coming inside, and after seeing that all 11 people had climbed into the same bed, they figured that no one was actually sleeping.

The kids apologized for playing their music too loudly, but Indian cops insist on being difficult. They quickly ushered everyone outside and put them in their SUV—all 11 of them. Then they took them to jail. The funny thing is that a couple of the kids actually were sleeping and hadn’t had anything to with the noise. Dazed and confused, they were brought outside with everyone else and worst of all, they didn’t have shoes.

By 1:30 am, they had arrived at the station. Alexi, of course, had no idea what was going on, and didn’t understand what was being argued about in Hindi. There was a lot of sitting around, a lot of “trying to get some sleep”, and very little speaking. Moral was low. At 4:30 in the morning, someone finally offered the cops a large enough bribe, and they let them go. It wasn’t large enough for a ride home, apparently, because they had to call a friend to come pick them up.

I guess the party was over.