Mumbai - 2.3.13 to Gokarna - 2.25.13

Well then, it has been some time.  How to catch up on it all?  Dhire, dhire (slowly, slowly).  

After visiting the union territory of Daman, I took the lawyer couple from Mumbai up on their offer.  I made it to one of the world's largest cities in one day and hit it just as it was rush hour.  The only directions I am given to meet my new hosts are "Go to Churchgate."  OK, then I will.  So once again I just keep driving into the heart of the city, asking directions every few blocks.  And all the time I am looking for something that might resemble the gate of a church, or a church named gate, or anything that has to do with a church or a gate.  But that's not what Churchgate is, so you can imagine the hard time I had finding the place.  I'm still not sure what Churchgate is, other than a building…..that houses offices of some sort.  The rush hour traffic was actually kind of fun, until it got dark around 7pm and then it got interesting.  Between phone calls and misunderstood messages, I finally met Mishra ji.  Mishra ji (the ji standing as a sign of respect in Hindi, as his friends call him) is a person who means what he says.  When he said that I had a place to stay in Mumbai, he meant it.  When he said he and his friends would take me all around the city as long as I stayed, he meant it.  And when he said he wouldn't let me go to Goa alone, that it would be no fun and he would send a chauffeur with me, he meant that as well.  I have met many people in and out of India who just say things.  Maybe at the time people mean what they say, but they high hopes never come to fruition.  So in Mumbai I stayed in his extra flat in the heart of the city with his nephew, Tinka, and a few of his friends.  During my entire stay in Mumbai I was guided around, brought breakfast before I even had a chance to wake up.  We drove around in open jeeps seeing the sights of the city at night, which is a surprisingly peaceful city at night.  We ate all kinds of random Indian snacks at each stop along the way.  And at the end of my stay, the night before I was headed to Goa, I learned that Bawa ji, by now a good friend, would be accompanying me to Goa.

Based on advice from Mishra ji, I left on Friday, February 8th.  I had my heart set to leave the day before, but I was warned that it is very bad luck to travel south on a Thursday.  In retrospect, I wonder how many times I have inadvertently done this and put myself in danger!  In the end, I decided it was best to listen to this man I have grown to respect.  Woke up early to beat the morning traffic and met Mishra ji at his place before heading out. He had some parting gifts for me, and his father, a very sweet old man clearly respected by others, placed a shawl on my shoulders.  It was a great sign of respect to me, and I felt so honored.  He also gave me a sari, which I still don't yet know how to wear.  And five hundred and one Rupees.  My friend Ram had told me before about the extra 1 Rupee having the meaning of good luck.  As I had remembered it, it is given to Brahmins after they perform a prayer or a ritual, but here I was accepting this token of good luck from a Brahmin.  I've kept that money, safely tucked away.  Once I needed it baldy but decided it wasn't worth it to spend it (I'm not even sure it is bad luck to spend the good luck money, but I don't want to test it).  In this land of beliefs and superstitions I feel it is necessary to do as the Romans (Indians) do  So there we were, Bawa ji and I, on the open road.  But not before getting stopped by a police officer at the bottom of a bridge.  This is surprisingly the first time I have been pulled over to date!  But the funny thing is that I didn't even know the officer was asking me to pull over, as he was just standing in the street, as he blew a whistle and pointed to the side of the street.  Had Bawa ji not been in the back, I would have kept on driving.  And the funny thing is that he never would have chased me or ever found me later (he's on foot!!!).  So maybe I actually have been asked to pull over before, but never noticed and therefore avoided all contact with police.  I mean, I do specifically not make eye contact with police, but that's nothing new just because I'm in India.  We get out of the rickshaw to talk to the officer, but as they are talking in Hindi, or their local language of Marathi, I had no idea what they were saying.  Although I was the one being pulled over, I was not spoken to.  This in itself made me nervous because I had no idea what I was doing wrong.  I just kept seeing pointing, and in my head I had conjured up all of these thoughts that he was pointing to the police station.  No smiles were cracked for some time and I just didn't know what to expect.  But I did remember that Mishr ji is a respected lawyer, so I felt a bit better.  I knew he would get me out of a pinch.  Then the officer asked me if I have an Indian driver's license.  I say, confidently of course, "No Sir, but I have an American driver's license and an International Permit!"  So I show him, and it looks all official, and I am still convinced he didn't actually know how to read English, so he let me go.  We drive away and Bawa tells me that 3-wheelers are not allowed on that bridge.  Oh yeah, like I care.  Like there are a thousand bridges in that city, how would I know that.  Apparently there was a sign, but who cares.  People don't even pay attention to traffic signals here, let alone signs that don't have any reason.  One thing though, I am surprised I wasn't asked for a bribe.  True story.  

This first day is long, a full 12 hours of driving.  It wouldn't have taken s long, as we had only planned to drive about 200 km, but somewhere we took a wrong turn because we were flapping our lips too much.  By the time we realized it, we were only 28km off course, but in the middle of nowhere so instead of backtracking we decided to drive through to the other side of the highway.  Well I suppose that wasn't the best idea, as it took us another 2-3 hours because the roads were so small and pot-holey.  I think at first Bawa was frustrated as he took the blame, but I convinced him that the destination doesn't matter at this point.  We will get there eventually, and this is just a short detour.  It doesn't matter if we arrive on time, or at all.  This way was more scenic anyway.  But determined to get to Khed to spend the night, this detour did leave us driving at night, which I said I would never do.  It was a bit stressful, driving through the small mountain passes, but the little traffic made it bearable and we made it to Khed.  We are both exhausted mentally and physically and we hit the hay and things were all good in the morning as we headed onto our next stop at Ratnagari.  A friend of both Mishra ji and Bawa ji lived there, and although he was out of town we were told we could stay at his flat.  After more confusion and being given the wrong keys, we finally made it in to relax for the night.  Ordered food in (best okra in the world!!!) and I showed Bawa all of the pictures I had on my computer from before I came to India.  There weren't so many, as I had just switched computers before I came, but it was truly nice to be showing pictures and stories of my family and friends back home to someone who genuinely cared.  Looking at the pictures of my family, my dogs, roller derby, and friends made me miss my home.  Not in a way that made me homesick, just in a way that made me smile and remember how lucky I am to have such an amazing support system.  Not everyone has this.  And I tell Bawa that, as not to confuse him that all Americans are born into such an amazing family.

The family of the mechanic who fixed the insanely noisy noisy engine ring thingy.  For approximately $.50 I believe

The next morning is lazy, I'm already sick of getting up early (it has only been 2 days!!!).  So we decide to only travel half the distance planned, and take the next 2 days to reach Goa.  There is no rush, and the journey has been so pleasant.  We climb more ghats and hill passes.  The landscape is ever-changing, now seeming more like a jungle in the mountains.  Greenery everywhere.  Sometimes there are monkeys, seemingly always carrying their small babies on the side of the road.  Sometimes I can catch them swinging from the branches out of the corner of my eye.  This may seem normal to Bawa, but he pretends to be just as thrilled as I am, or maybe he's not pretending.  He and Mishra ji and all of his friends have driven to Goa many times.  But it only takes 8 hours, not four days, and they drink beer the whole time.  So all of these sights really are kind of new to him!  My stereo broke long ago, so without tunes we are left to conversation.  It's good conversation.  I find myself telling him so much about my life.  He listens and asks questions.  He talks some, but I seem to be the talkative one between the two of us.  We stop along the way, sometimes for chai, sometimes for watermelon to eat in the shade.  Apparently I eat watermelon all wrong!  One more stop lands us in a small place that I don't even know the name.  It is a relaxing place, and an early night leaves us rested for our final stretch in the morning.  

I've heard so many things about Goa, both good and bad.  I am trying hard not to let them make a judgment for me, but mostly I remember the bad things and I don't know what to expect.  I hear about the absolute loads of tourists.  I didn't travel this far to hang out with people like me.  I hear about the wild parties.  I'm over that stage in my life (OK, maybe not really but it's not why I am in India, and in general don't feel comfortable letting myself go in a strange land).  I hear about the massive amount of drugs and their Russian pushers and I'm just not interested.  But then I remember hearing about the beautiful beaches and the friendly locals.  The first night I stay in a hut on the beach.  It feels magical, like something I have seen in a fancy travel magazine, without the fancy as this one is quite rustic.  Sand floors, mosquito nets and Indian beer lead to a great evening, with late night food cooked especially for us by Farhad's (Bawa's) friend.  Fresh fried fish, rice, vegetables I can't pronounce.  I will never forget this night.

Farhad returns to Mumbai while I am left to my own devices.  I'm not one for beaches, I know I am crazy, so I am ready to get out of Goa.  I left Anjuna myself, only to drive to Palolem feeling more alone than ever on this rickshaw journey.  Before having such a great travel partner I didn't mind being alone.  I enjoyed it even.  But now it seems bland, and quiet, and awful.  But Palolem was beautiful.  It had a different feel than Anjuna.  More family friendly, not such a party scene.  Some things were outrageously expensive though, and it just made me want to leave.  But I had found a mechanic who said he would service the rickshaw and fix the minor repairs throughout the weekend, so there I was stuck.  I did mehendi in my spare time, got a sunburn, ate some great seafood.  After a few days the rickshaw was running like a dream so I carried on to Gokarna, Karnataka.  I had heard there was a nice beach there, but didn't really know what to expect.  As I got here, I realized that was not true, although there is supposedly a nice beach about 10 km away.  But after driving through the hills to get there, I turned back .  It was a secluded beach where it wouldn't have been possible to keep a rickshaw, and a fellow traveler who is touring India on a motorcycle told me it isn't worth it. 

Storm coming in Palolem

 Hair flowers in Gokarna

 First cow on the beach!  I mean the first cow I have seen on the beach!

 Ferry to.......I forget

 Funny to maneuver my rig off of this thing as it was filling up with motorcycles!

My little hut on the beach in Palolem

Back to Gokarna, and I get a message that breaks my heart.  I realize that I need to see Farhad, I need to get back to Mumbai as soon as possible.  I made a mistake letting him go home when I did, and I need to see him.  Whether we continue to be good friends or more, I know that I need to I need to see him.  I know there is no way I can drive back there, it will take 5 days and it will be a total waste.  So I decided to find a place where I can park the rickshaw for a few days, and I book a train for the next afternoon.

The next day I am headed back to the big city, where I just was not more than 2 weeks ago.  I assume Mishra ji and the rest of the group will be surprised to see me.  As Mishra ji is having guests at his extra flat, I plan to get a hotel nearby and see Farhad when he is not studying for his exams.  I arrive bright and early at 5 in the morning, and he meets me at the station.  He insists that I stay at his flat, with his mom and his brother.  He has told his mom he has a good friend from America coming to stay, and she is ok with it.  I'm hesitant though, I don't want to put anyone out and I just don't want to create any problems.  But I go there and immediately feel comfortable.  After a good nap, I go around looking for hotels in the neighborhood anyway but am unsuccessful as they are not able to accept me.  It is my fate then, to stay with Farhad and his family.  I don't have any plans or agenda on this visit to Mumbai, only to see Farhad and to feel good leaving, no matter the outcome.  Over the next few days we get very close.  It is great to see Mishra ji, Captain, Bahao and everyone else once again.

 Farhad and I in Mumbai

View of Mumbai from Marine Drive, a good hangout.