Day 9+
It is Sunday and the family wakes up early to attend Mass at 7AM.
Afterwards my hosts have dispersed to cover no less than 3 "First Communion" ceremonies for children who have reached the age of 7. Due to the distances between the ceremonies, each daughter is dispatched to a different event close by, while the parents drive the farthest to attend the 3rd ceremony.
I am dropped off at Bugmalo beach, which is further north from Velsao. I sit in a local beach restaurant, avoiding eye contact with the local dogs who have learned to beg with their eyes and wonder where all the Israeli's have gone.
The absence of Israelis is marked since from all the stories I heard from my friends it seemed that they literally founded Goa with their sheer numbers. But locals say they all moved south to beaches like Om and Paradise. Here, as elsewhere I visited, the tourists are either British or Russian. The place is sleepy and so am I.
In the evening we attend the Communion party. I talk to a local young man, a friend of the family, who just came back from working in the U.k for several years. He informs me that he is getting married in two days. I'm invited to yet another wedding.
Today we toured Old Goa with its two main points of interest: The Old Church and opposite, the Museum of Archeology situated itself in a church.
The old church is famous for its Remains of St. Francis Xavier who, in the early 16th century, pioneered Catholicism in new worlds. His success in curing lepers in Goa earned him legendary status in India. He continued to travel and spread Christianity, aiming to reach China but was overcome with disease at the age of 46. He died and buried in China, but when exhumed for reburial in Goa his corpse was miraculously preserved with no rot setting in. Furthermore, immersion in lime in order to move only the bones was unsuccessful too. Finally he was beatified and canonized by the church and his remains displayed in the Bom Jesus Cburch in Goa.
Across from the street is a two-story museum. The bottom floor is dedicated to Hindu artifacts and sculptures and the top to the ruling Christianity and the Portuguese.
It's election day in Israel. Anjuna beach couldn't care less. The beach is situated north of the capital Panjim, and is a popular tourist beach with a distinct Israeli presence. This time of year the action takes place mostly at night, as the trance music from (almost) every beach restaurant suggests.
A long dirt road lined with tourist shops offers something for everyone and if the bongs and pipes sold here don't give away some of the wares available, the whispers of 'hash' as you pass by - will.
The narrow dirt road leads to the partly rocky beach where tanners sprawl on lounge beds, ignoring (or accepting) offers from locals who comb the beach peddling CD's, sunglasses, fruit and hand painted 'tattoos'. A tourist trap, if you ever saw one. But, if you want a fully equipped beach with a decent spread of age groups - this it.
The village around the beach is one of the more shanti ones I saw. A small white church sits in its middle, cows walk languidly by and the bird calls are only disturbed by the occasional biker who passes by.
Finally some action. I notice a stall lined with Ayurvedic medicines sold by a Mr. Krishnamoorthy K. Sanjiv Raj Mukhia. A Himalayan Ayurvedic doctor who spends the winter in Goa and the summer back home. I inquired about Ashvagandha and he invited me to sit with him. We got to talk about AV, doshas and he offered to check my pulse. His remarks about my health were accurate , which earned him my trust (that and his eyes and demeanor). Not satisfied having proven his credentials enough he produced a large picture album with certificates and pictures. In them he is seen, in the presence of his father, both in the same traditional garb of AV practitioners and growing up, earning honors. His Pictures include receiving honors from various Indian dignitaries as well as tens of letter of thanks from Indians and foreigners alike.
Having done with these he outlined the ingredients of the formula he recommended for my 40 day treatment. I requests remedies for both my hosts's wife and his mother for their ailments and we settled for a price that seemed low for my oh so powerful Israeli shekel.
He started picking plastic cans with labels of the powdered plants he was going to use the formula, putting each one to my nose, giving its name and explaining the properties of the plant. "This Brahmi, good for the brain and circulation of small blood vessels. This is Haldi, for Pitta dosha. This is Karela, for sugar regulation, Saffron for...." He poured measured spoonfuls onto a piece of white paper as he rattled off each ones properties. I realized I was getting decades of knowledge in mere minutes. Although I was familiar with only a few of the ingredients and their properties, I gave up on trying to remember all the ones that were new to me. He then proceeded with instructions for preparing each formula (some boiling in water, others putting hit water over) and finally waved all three packets over a small shrine accompanied by an incantation and bringing the packets to his forehead.
We parted with a warm embrace (and some pictures taken). For the special price he gave me he challenged me to come back next year and if all three of us improved, I would bring him a present. He seemed so sure of his medicine's potency that I felt he knew he getting a present. I agreed.
An organic coffee bar tempted me in to have my first Espresso in 12 days.
After 10 minutes I regretted having that coffee. But I took advantage of the only place I saw that offered vegetable juices. It was ridiciously overpriced but essential at the time. I ordered a carrot-celery-spirulina juice. Ahh, much better.
Reclining in a restaurant close to the top of the village, overlooking an Arabian Sea sunset. I realized I've travelled about 900kms in the span of 10 days.
10
Today is my hosts's wife's birthday. I asked her what she planned to do. "Nothing", she said. I guess doing nothing means a lot to her.
Still, she was preparing to invite "only a small group, closer family" to dinner.
That night they served my favorite Indian sweet: Gulab Jamon. I went overboard. (Is 5 too much?). I had six. I'm relying on the Ayurvedic medicines (I've started the 40 day course) to protect me.
After a hectic 11 days I welcome the quiet stretch of beach that crosses Cansaulim, where no peddler will gently harass you. I don't even mind sitting next to overtoasted Europeans talking about what they had for dinner last night and what they will order later tonight. But the beach shacks are sparsely populated today and I find one bereft of people. "Limca, please".
With time "on my hands", I walked the tranquil beach and saw a piece of fisherman's rope in the sand. It seemed to fit exactly my wrist so I took it home and with some thin wires made a bracelet.
The sand here varies from hard packed to crushed shells, rocky and up to soft. Mostly soft. The sea itself is alive and if you go in and pick an elongated shell, it will have crab in it. Thousands of them wash up on the
beach, along with small starfish.
By two in the afternoon the sea breeze carries hot air across the sand. From far away it looks as if a jet plane was warming its engines somewhere.
The days start to blend into each other and I feel It's time to move, but there is still one more (unplanned) invitation to a wedding tonight. Arthur is getting married.
Normalcy returns to the families in the village. Construction workers build a house next door, cows cross the path, followed by their herder, the caw-caw and chirping of birds blends somehow with the track I'm listening to: Primitive heart, by Cocteau Twins. The lyrics seem to fit too:
"Heart, heart
Loving the primitive heart.
Strain strain
Clouding yourself by seeing strain."
My hosts new pickup just arrived. He intends to haul two, 2,000 Liter water tanks in them. Heading home I ride shotgun standing up in the back. The giant pickup's engine sounds like a low rumbling animal. Going and swerving through the narrow jungle roads feels like riding an elephant. Wheeeeee!!!
On my last day in Goa the two daughters were scheduled for a fun day at the 'Splash club' at Anjuna. I was dropped off at the adjacent beach of Calanguta. The dense crowd of locals and tourists that lined the long streets chock full of stalls were the largest I've seen so far. The beach itself was a little overwhelming. You could hardly see sand from the throng of people. Motorboats crisscrossed among the bathers, who in their sheer numbers made the whole scene look they were all in a large swimming pool.
I was considering wether to go down to the beach or... What?
Best considered over masala chai I remembered seeing a chai stall on the way. The stall was tiny and doubled as a fastfood joint, but the large local crowd and tiny plastic cups of chai convinced me to stop. Turned out to be the best chai in Goa. I decided to flee to the more laid back atmosphere of Anjuna beach, a ten minute autorikshaw ride away.
It is Sunday and the family wakes up early to attend Mass at 7AM.
Afterwards my hosts have dispersed to cover no less than 3 "First Communion" ceremonies for children who have reached the age of 7. Due to the distances between the ceremonies, each daughter is dispatched to a different event close by, while the parents drive the farthest to attend the 3rd ceremony.
I am dropped off at Bugmalo beach, which is further north from Velsao. I sit in a local beach restaurant, avoiding eye contact with the local dogs who have learned to beg with their eyes and wonder where all the Israeli's have gone.
The absence of Israelis is marked since from all the stories I heard from my friends it seemed that they literally founded Goa with their sheer numbers. But locals say they all moved south to beaches like Om and Paradise. Here, as elsewhere I visited, the tourists are either British or Russian. The place is sleepy and so am I.
In the evening we attend the Communion party. I talk to a local young man, a friend of the family, who just came back from working in the U.k for several years. He informs me that he is getting married in two days. I'm invited to yet another wedding.
Today we toured Old Goa with its two main points of interest: The Old Church and opposite, the Museum of Archeology situated itself in a church.
The old church is famous for its Remains of St. Francis Xavier who, in the early 16th century, pioneered Catholicism in new worlds. His success in curing lepers in Goa earned him legendary status in India. He continued to travel and spread Christianity, aiming to reach China but was overcome with disease at the age of 46. He died and buried in China, but when exhumed for reburial in Goa his corpse was miraculously preserved with no rot setting in. Furthermore, immersion in lime in order to move only the bones was unsuccessful too. Finally he was beatified and canonized by the church and his remains displayed in the Bom Jesus Cburch in Goa.
Across from the street is a two-story museum. The bottom floor is dedicated to Hindu artifacts and sculptures and the top to the ruling Christianity and the Portuguese.
It's election day in Israel. Anjuna beach couldn't care less. The beach is situated north of the capital Panjim, and is a popular tourist beach with a distinct Israeli presence. This time of year the action takes place mostly at night, as the trance music from (almost) every beach restaurant suggests.
A long dirt road lined with tourist shops offers something for everyone and if the bongs and pipes sold here don't give away some of the wares available, the whispers of 'hash' as you pass by - will.
The narrow dirt road leads to the partly rocky beach where tanners sprawl on lounge beds, ignoring (or accepting) offers from locals who comb the beach peddling CD's, sunglasses, fruit and hand painted 'tattoos'. A tourist trap, if you ever saw one. But, if you want a fully equipped beach with a decent spread of age groups - this it.
The village around the beach is one of the more shanti ones I saw. A small white church sits in its middle, cows walk languidly by and the bird calls are only disturbed by the occasional biker who passes by.
Finally some action. I notice a stall lined with Ayurvedic medicines sold by a Mr. Krishnamoorthy K. Sanjiv Raj Mukhia. A Himalayan Ayurvedic doctor who spends the winter in Goa and the summer back home. I inquired about Ashvagandha and he invited me to sit with him. We got to talk about AV, doshas and he offered to check my pulse. His remarks about my health were accurate , which earned him my trust (that and his eyes and demeanor). Not satisfied having proven his credentials enough he produced a large picture album with certificates and pictures. In them he is seen, in the presence of his father, both in the same traditional garb of AV practitioners and growing up, earning honors. His Pictures include receiving honors from various Indian dignitaries as well as tens of letter of thanks from Indians and foreigners alike.
Having done with these he outlined the ingredients of the formula he recommended for my 40 day treatment. I requests remedies for both my hosts's wife and his mother for their ailments and we settled for a price that seemed low for my oh so powerful Israeli shekel.
He started picking plastic cans with labels of the powdered plants he was going to use the formula, putting each one to my nose, giving its name and explaining the properties of the plant. "This Brahmi, good for the brain and circulation of small blood vessels. This is Haldi, for Pitta dosha. This is Karela, for sugar regulation, Saffron for...." He poured measured spoonfuls onto a piece of white paper as he rattled off each ones properties. I realized I was getting decades of knowledge in mere minutes. Although I was familiar with only a few of the ingredients and their properties, I gave up on trying to remember all the ones that were new to me. He then proceeded with instructions for preparing each formula (some boiling in water, others putting hit water over) and finally waved all three packets over a small shrine accompanied by an incantation and bringing the packets to his forehead.
We parted with a warm embrace (and some pictures taken). For the special price he gave me he challenged me to come back next year and if all three of us improved, I would bring him a present. He seemed so sure of his medicine's potency that I felt he knew he getting a present. I agreed.
An organic coffee bar tempted me in to have my first Espresso in 12 days.
After 10 minutes I regretted having that coffee. But I took advantage of the only place I saw that offered vegetable juices. It was ridiciously overpriced but essential at the time. I ordered a carrot-celery-spirulina juice. Ahh, much better.
Reclining in a restaurant close to the top of the village, overlooking an Arabian Sea sunset. I realized I've travelled about 900kms in the span of 10 days.
10
Today is my hosts's wife's birthday. I asked her what she planned to do. "Nothing", she said. I guess doing nothing means a lot to her.
Still, she was preparing to invite "only a small group, closer family" to dinner.
That night they served my favorite Indian sweet: Gulab Jamon. I went overboard. (Is 5 too much?). I had six. I'm relying on the Ayurvedic medicines (I've started the 40 day course) to protect me.
After a hectic 11 days I welcome the quiet stretch of beach that crosses Cansaulim, where no peddler will gently harass you. I don't even mind sitting next to overtoasted Europeans talking about what they had for dinner last night and what they will order later tonight. But the beach shacks are sparsely populated today and I find one bereft of people. "Limca, please".
With time "on my hands", I walked the tranquil beach and saw a piece of fisherman's rope in the sand. It seemed to fit exactly my wrist so I took it home and with some thin wires made a bracelet.
The sand here varies from hard packed to crushed shells, rocky and up to soft. Mostly soft. The sea itself is alive and if you go in and pick an elongated shell, it will have crab in it. Thousands of them wash up on the
beach, along with small starfish.
By two in the afternoon the sea breeze carries hot air across the sand. From far away it looks as if a jet plane was warming its engines somewhere.
The days start to blend into each other and I feel It's time to move, but there is still one more (unplanned) invitation to a wedding tonight. Arthur is getting married.
Normalcy returns to the families in the village. Construction workers build a house next door, cows cross the path, followed by their herder, the caw-caw and chirping of birds blends somehow with the track I'm listening to: Primitive heart, by Cocteau Twins. The lyrics seem to fit too:
"Heart, heart
Loving the primitive heart.
Strain strain
Clouding yourself by seeing strain."
My hosts new pickup just arrived. He intends to haul two, 2,000 Liter water tanks in them. Heading home I ride shotgun standing up in the back. The giant pickup's engine sounds like a low rumbling animal. Going and swerving through the narrow jungle roads feels like riding an elephant. Wheeeeee!!!
On my last day in Goa the two daughters were scheduled for a fun day at the 'Splash club' at Anjuna. I was dropped off at the adjacent beach of Calanguta. The dense crowd of locals and tourists that lined the long streets chock full of stalls were the largest I've seen so far. The beach itself was a little overwhelming. You could hardly see sand from the throng of people. Motorboats crisscrossed among the bathers, who in their sheer numbers made the whole scene look they were all in a large swimming pool.
I was considering wether to go down to the beach or... What?
Best considered over masala chai I remembered seeing a chai stall on the way. The stall was tiny and doubled as a fastfood joint, but the large local crowd and tiny plastic cups of chai convinced me to stop. Turned out to be the best chai in Goa. I decided to flee to the more laid back atmosphere of Anjuna beach, a ten minute autorikshaw ride away.
reading every post. keep going
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHi! I see that you know Sanjiv Raj Mukhia, ayurvedic doctor in Anjuna.
ReplyDeleteIt's a good doctor, and I need his services.
I lost his contact. Do you know his email or website or adress in himalaya? I stay with him in 2008...
Here there are some photos that we take: http://anjunagoaindia.blogspot.com.es/2016/05/can-you-help-me-to-contact-that-man.html
My email is escoladelser@gmail.com
Thanks in advance! I send you a Hug from Heart! From Barcelona, Spain.
My name is Jordi Orriols Luque