It’s a Goa-st Town!

June, 2011

I must apologize for the long gap since my last entry, but it hasn’t been due to a lack of enthusiasm for my electronic diary nor heavy dose of procrastination, it’s more a matter of not that many compelling events to recount. I’ve been hanging out in the same place for the last month and a half so a travel blog takes a bit of a hit in these circumstances. I hope you haven’t given up on my blog just yet, and if you’re reading this, you obviously haven’t! If you’re tired of continually checking the site to see that there are no new entries, I recommend that you sign up as a “follower” and then you receive an email the next time I add something new.

So, on with this entry...the first I’ve done that covers an entire month in one go...

I returned to Goa, and specifically Arambol Beach after my trip up north...and it was even quieter here than when I left a month ago, more shops and restaurants closed down and hardly any foreigners (which can be nice in a way, you get to experience more of the true culture of the area).

The dead main street in Arambol:

I found a really nice room in one of the guest houses on the main road from a nice local guy, Derick, from whom I’d rented a scooter from before. The room is spacious, has a wardrobe (a rare luxury) and is a mere 100 meters walk to the ocean which I have a glimpse of from my balcony...all at a cost of 200 rupees a night (a little over $4)!

The view from my balcony:

I’ve never spent time in an area during a monsoon season so I was a little intrigued and even a bit excited to see what it would entail. The first day that I was back in Goa, it did rain for about half an hour but that was it. However, since I’d only seen rain here 2, maybe 3 times over the 4-5 months I’d spent here, that bit of precipitation was something. Well the next day...it’s as if someone up in the sky opened the faucet as it was “Hello Mr. Monsoon!” It rained virtually the whole day and we’re not talking a sprinkling, this was “full power” rainfall.

The first week it rained every day, but not all day so I was able to get out, hike up the small ridge where I have gone paragliding, walk down the now empty beach. Speaking of the beach, it sure changes quickly during this season. Sand is eroding and washing back into the sea (in spots about 2 feet in depth) causing waves to break further out. Sadly a lot of the sand is now covered in an oily residue from bilge discharges from ships just off the coast in the Arabian Sea. Now add garbage that has washed down to the beach from the human settlements but hasn’t quite made its final run out to sea, it’s not always a pretty site. But there are some beneficiaries, especially the local pigs who seem to find a full buffet of goodies under the sand.

The sand has turned black thanks to off shore oil dumping in front of the Olive Garden:

Thankfully these dark clouds missed me:

Yum yum...

The eroding beach:

I do enjoy seeing a variety of clouds now...during the tourist season it's often just a clear blue sky:


Like where I grew up, there were two seasons: winter & construction. Here it's: tourist & construction. This was an Italian restaurant called Felini's:

Some of the beach restaurants already haven't fared well in the monsoon:

This is a popular party place called Cocks Town, but obviously not popular right now:

One of the early days of June it seemed quite nice out so I decided to go for a long walk down the beach for some exercise and mental relaxation. What a difference from the tourist season as I only encountered four or five other souls, most of whom were local fishermen hopefully tossing their handheld nets into the sea. Strangely some of these guys thought that their best spot to make a catch was in the darker, oily water. Sure, maybe the logic is that the fish can’t see the net coming thanks to the petroleum pollution...but I’m making a mental note not to eat fish here during this season.

One of the "oily" fishermen (the tiny dot in the middle):

All of the beach restaurants and huts were either packed up or completely enshrouded in tarpaulin and dead palm fronds. It was quite peaceful actually...until I looked back and out over the ocean where I noticed some pretty dark clouds heading inland. I was at least 2-3 kilometres down the beach and immediately turned around and starting a quick walk back. I even attempted jogging a little, probably the first time since my paragliding accident in March and thankfully my back didn’t complain about it.

A nice lake in front of the Olive Garden:

Anyone lose their toothbrush:

Nice oily striations:

The deserted beach:


The "monsooned" beach:


Within 10 minutes, I learned “Rule #1 of a Monsoon Season: Don’t walk too far down a beach unless you don’t mind getting completely drenched.” The skies opened up and it bucketed down. I took temporary shelter behind a building but between getting bored and also dripped on, I decided to just get wet and start walking back. I wearing shorts and a t-shirt and my only concern was for my iPod and cell phone. I tucked them in the deepest pocket I had on the leeside of my body. Well, that was slightly fruitless. By the time I got back to the area of the beach close to my guest house, I might as well have walked out of the ocean. I was soaked. The rain had eased up a bit at this point, enough so that I removed my shirt and wrung it out to lessen the weight of the material and as much or more water came out as when I hand wash it! Thankfully it was still warm enough that I wasn’t shivering from being wet. I then returned to my guesthouse and gingerly removed all of the items from my pockets. Everything was wet. Business cards and rupee bills in my wallet needed to be laid out to dry. I walked out onto my balcony and then realized “Rule #2 of a Monsoon Season: Don’t leave your laundry out to dry if you leave home”....d’oh!

The dark clouds and water:

In the rain:


During the first couple of weeks of June, I was riveted by...if you can believe it since I’m in India, ice hockey! However, the games weren’t being played here but back in Canada and the US. Having lived near Vancouver for the last 13 years, I have become a fan of the Vancouver Canucks and this year they fielded one of the best teams in their 40 year history. When I was up in Manali I was actually able to watch a few of their games with a fast enough connection in the Purnima guest house I was at combined with fact that I could get on one of their computers at 5:30am (often the starting game time over here). I was not quite so fortunate here as no Internet shop is open that early and my USB modem is just not fast enough to stream video, however I was able to listen to a radio feed over the Internet, although I could only obtain a signal if I was out on my balcony as the concrete building shielded reception in my room.

So there I was, almost every second day for a few weeks, awake at 5:30am, sitting in the predawn light on my balcony staring out at palm trees swaying in the light morning breeze...listening to ice hockey! Those were the good days. More often than not, being monsoon season and all, well it would be raining! I was thankful that I had recently, and wisely, purchased an umbrella which facilitated building a mini fort under which my laptop and I sought refuge. Unfortunately in the end the Canucks lost to the Boston Bruins in the final and deciding 7th game. Heartbreaking yes, but I think they’ll do it next year (oh ya, forgot to mention that they have never won the Stanley Cup in their 40 year history...so odds are in their favour right?!?).

Tuning into the game:

My fort:

There are between 15-20 dogs that live on the beach in Arambol. The odd one is cared for by a local home but most must fend for themselves. Almost all of them have one partially cropped ear tip, signifying that they have been denied future donations to their gene pool by the local vets...which is good to see (not denouncing the quality of their genes, just that there are enough of them for the amount of food available). The dogs fair quite well during the tourist season as many foreigners are taken by the cute faces looking for some table scraps but this is not the case during the monsoon season. I have witnessed a few of the foreigners left buying large quantities of dog food and filling the bellies of half a dozen or more dogs in one go. I try to help out a little bit with the table scrap donations but sometimes it’s difficult when you have 5 or 6 dogs around and don’t really even have enough for one. No need to cause a fight to break out. Unfortunately there are tussles as these guys get hungrier and skinnier but most of them obviously make it through to the following season...thankfully it’s not a true dog eat dog world...

Letting sleeping dogs lie...

The lifeguards must have food...but I think these guys are trying in vain:

The weather at the end of June was much milder, in terms of rain, and it was nice enough that I’ve ventured out three times to try and paraglide off of the small ridge in Arambol. Unfortunately only one of those attempts was fruitful as the other times it was too windy. I hadn’t flown solo since my crash in March in Panchgani so there were a few nerves as I set up to launch. The wind was fairly strong on this day too so it did take me 4 or 5 tries before I was able to get the wing above my head and stay close to the cliff edge and even then I had to “spacewalk” for a few minutes before I took off.

I flew for a total of three hours, the first two being rather sedate, just getting my wings back. It was fantastic to be in the air looking out over the ocean and sharing the view with only eagles. I left the main ridge and crossed the Sweet Water beach to the smaller ridge in preparation to hop over that and land on Arambol Beach. I lost next to no height on the crossing and realized that it was a nice westerly wind, hitting the coastline perpendicularly which hadn’t happened often when I was flying here during the season. Usually this crossing over Sweet Water was a one way trip but I decided to try heading back and I made it with no problem. I repeated the crossing a few more times and then decided to practice a top landing on the main ridge (a big motivator being I had to pee!). It took a number of attempts before I was successful as with the strong wind I kept getting popped up too high when I came over the launch area. So I slowly expanded the big loop I was flying: away from the ridge out over the sea, then running parallel to the ridge but still over the water and then back in again, lower each time. It can be a bit unnerving flying out over the ocean but you’ve just got to put your trust in physics!

Bladder happy, I took off again, flew a bit longer and then landed on Arambol Beach, just a hundred meters from my guesthouse. It was great to get my wings back!

The Red Fort, Spice Market & Jama Masjid Mosque in Delhi

May 31st, 2011

I took an overnight bus last night from Manali to Delhi. Pinku convinced me that since I had a plane ticket on June 1st to Goa that I should allow a full day of buffer time in case of delays on the road or the bus breaking down. Prudent advice but in the end I arrived at 6:45am in Delhi and had it been the day of the flight, I would have had plenty of time to get to the airport. Oh well, no matter, there are still sights to see in Delhi and I can put up with the chaos, pollution, people, smells and noise for one day.

The chaos of Delhi:

The guys with the caps offer to clean your ears. In Goa, it was a big scam but I only saw them doing it on foreigners. Here locals take advantage of the "service". I still think it's a scam but even if it wasn't, would you want one of these guys poking something pointy into your ear?!?

The main sight I wanted to visit was the Red Fort. The Red Fort was completed in 1648 and took 10 years to build. I wandered about for over an hour checking out a variety of buildings, some old, some newer. It seemed to me that the front of the fort was quite impregnable but the back...not so much. However I imagine there was some decent moat action in the back which would have been fed by the nearby Yamuna River. There were a couple of small museums, one on war and another on the cultural history. Unfortunately most artifacts had but a label that just said what it was and nothing more.

Heading to the Red Fort:

Riding the rickshaw:

The Red Fort:

Me and my Red Fort (it's a kids' book no?):

Close to the entrance:

Knuffle Bunny at the Red Fort entrance:

The market that's been active since the 1600s:

One of many gorgeous buildings inside the fort (read: I don't remember the name):

"It's just a flesh wound!"

Nice arch action:

The Khas Mahal palace:

Inside the palace:

Leaving the Red Fort, I was approached by a tall Indian asking if I wanted a rickshaw. I kind of did but didn’t want to show my cards all at once. Actually, I really needed some water before I did anything else and this guy helped me locate a vendor. He gave me his pitch, listing off a bunch of sights, many of which didn’t ring any bells in my head. I told him I was interested in seeing the Delhi gate, the big mosque called Jama Masjid and he mentioned the spice market which sounded like it could be a real glimpse into “raw” Delhi. He quoted me 200 rupees ($4.50) for an hour so why not, I could do with sitting down and just watching the world pass by (or I guess technically I would be passing the world by).

Affable Salim is a father of four ranging from 17 years old down to 8. He’s been a bicycle rickshaw driver for 21 years but isn’t originally from Delhi. He was a super friendly and seemingly honest guy. His English wasn’t perfect but quite understandable. He took me back up the main road that leads back towards the subway station. His first stop was the spice market.

Heading to the spice market:

After slowly making our way through the rush hour (or just perhaps every hour in Delhi), he suddenly passed through the dividing median and began to cycle the wrong way down the right hand side of the street. Thankfully at least we were on the curb side of the road, close to many parked vehicles and rickshaws and we weren’t the only ones pedaling down the wrong side of the road. The reason for it: we were pulling up to a rickshaw parking area near to the spice market.

We parked the three wheeler and took off on foot a few blocks down the road. The streets where alive with busy people pushing carts, carrying goods on their heads or briskly walking about. The sounds of vendors yelling out their hot products rang out of most stores which were packed to the brim with goods. Some stores were no wider than 5 feet but probably 20-30 feet in depth. Salim kept stopping me and pointed out various types of spices: coriander, various peppers, ginger and the list went on. Occasionally he’d help himself to a small sample and give it to me to try.

Many spices:

We walked through a small covered market which actually led into an inner courtyard of a three storey one block square building which was the heart of the spice market. He took me through some small hallways and up a few flights of a really dingy concrete stairwell and strangely there were two guys trying to wheel a truck tire up to the top...I couldn’t quite figure out what their plan was for it.

Up on the top floor we had a good view over the city. I could see the Red Fort off in the distance and our next destination of the Jama Masjid mosque (sounds like the name of a Star Wars bounty hunter don’t you think?). Most other buildings were conjoined and stood only about 3 storeys high and many would probably be torn down in a western country but there was also the occasional big, newly constructed building for the finance district or a new apartment complex. In general though, it was far from the prettiest city panorama I’ve seen.

The inner courtyard:

Looking out over Delhi:

Looking towards the Red Fort from the top of the spice market building:

One of the many super narrow stores:

Back in the rickshaw we headed towards Jama Masjid, the biggest mosque in all of India, capable of providing a place of worship to up to 25,000 people at one time! Salim stayed with his bike as I walked in to take a quick look. The mosque was built around the same time as the Red Fort in the mid 1600s by the emperor Shah Janan who also commissioned the Taj Mahal.

I walked up to “Entrance #3” and was greeted by a couple of locals and a sign with a plethora of rules. Salim had mentioned one of them to me which was if you wanted to take photos it was going to cost you 200 rupees ($4.50). Another rule was that shorts were not allowed so I was provided with a lungi by this old man clad in loose fitting, white kurta pyjamas at the entrance, in fact, he put the lungi on me which I was grateful for as I’m sure I wouldn’t have gotten it right. He then escorted me along a long, narrow matt that was rolled out across the stone floor of the open area inside the mosque which was used to prevent your feet from burning up from the hot ground. Even at 5:30pm I couldn’t last more than 30 seconds off of the matt.

The entrance to Jama Masjid:

The main mosque:

Do you like my garb?

My guide did not speak any English and instead of speaking in Hindi or some other local language, he chose to grunt in a Neanderthal like technique to convey his message. I was amazed at how much I picked up from this basic form of communication. He pointed out places where I “should” take a photograph such as some clocks in a little foyer that indicate the multiple times to worship each day (not a photo I really needed to take!). I got a bit concerned as my battery was getting low so I wanted to choose my shots wisely but thankfully it survived the twenty minutes that we circumambulated the inner perimeter of the mosque.

The pulpit and looking out at the mosque grounds:

Chaos just outside the south gate towards the Muslim quarter:

More chaos towards the Red Fort:

Nice silhouette:

My old, mumbling but communicative tour guide of the mosque:

On leaving my guide extended his hand, obviously looking for a tip. Having paid the 200 rupees for permission to take photos (whereas it’s otherwise free admission) coupled with the fact we weren’t together for that long, nor did he speak English, I pulled out 50 rupees for him. He wasn’t impressed and wanted more so I doubled it to 100. Still not happy he held up two fingers but I stood fast at the 100, I felt that was enough.

Finding Salim again, he suggested we head through the Muslim district a bit but I was getting tired so I suggested we just hit the Delhi Gate and then to the subway station. A compromise was that we would be riding through some of the market areas on tight lanes (too narrow for a car) en route to the Delhi Gate. We passed through sections where it seemed that only one product was for sale in the myriad of shops: the glasses (spectacles) area, the bracelet section, only shoes then only saris, etc. Makes it easy to shop I guess, provided you know where the section you want is. It was a bumpy ride and I have to admit I, or my butt, was about done with the bicycle rickshaw mode of transportation at this point.

I was under the false impression thanks to maps back at the Red Fort that the Delhi Gate was part of the existing fort so I didn’t think it was far away but in fact the Delhi Gate was one of the entrances of the outer wall, most of which no longer exists in modern Delhi. So poor Salim pedaled and pedaled blocks in the wrong direction to the metro station so that I could snap all of 2 or 3 pictures of a brick entrance that is surrounded by busy streets.

The Delhi Gate (wasn't that a movie title?!?):

At the metro, after two hours of touring around and not the initially agreed upon one, I bid adieu to Salim and thanked him for his services. I was happy that we did cover quite a bit of ground and different aspects of Delhi in a short time....I feel that I can check Delhi off my list.