Sunday, March 16, 2008

Goa, dancing queen


Where do I start? Let me say that on the whole India fitted everyone's description, a city of colors and scents so impacting, even for someone from Cairo, a place so exotic yet still vaguely familiar...

My first impression upon landing in Goa was: are you sure we're in India? The scenery and the villagers could've belonged anywhere. Except for a couple of statues of Shiva, the towns have pos-colonial houses painted in bright colors (for Goa was a Portuguese colony for 450 years) and are sprinkled with those tin shacks which characterize any former colony blessed by the curse of natural resources. For all I know, we could've been in Brazil. The greenery and the diversity of it is breathtaking, the effect magnified by the twists and turns of the road which alternate plains and hills continuously (in addition to the weird effect which driving on the left side of the road always has on me). Down the road locals on vespas speed past us and shops have elephants -and sometimes Lord Ganesh- painted on the facades. Ok, this feels more like India.

Arriving at the resort I feel that the seventies have passed here and stopped, literally stopped. The chalets are loyal to the era's upholstery and tiles, the neighbors wear dreads, and you hear the Abba everywhere you go. So far I don't really feel like I'm in India. The markets with shopkeepers chasing tourists could be in any country with a bit of poverty and a weak currency -so that's what tourists feel in Egypt? poor them. At night we head to the beach, watch fireworks, scream
life is life, try to do the impossible twist on the sand and just go to sleep.

I go through the first day, happy to be back to the seventies, wishing I could just ditch everyone and summon my friends by means of apparition. Maybe I can wear those pink striped bell-bottoms which I saw in the old bazaar, get my hair braided once again, and then we all gather around the fire with one of us playing soft rock tunes; if someone wishes to smoke a joint they're welcome (just passive smoking for me, thank you very much).

I stay quite anxious though (as is always the case when I travel) and fear not seeing any sign of Hinduism in this Catholic town. Luckily I get to see the cows wandering knowing they own the road by and head to a Hindu temple and an indigenous Catholic Church (Jesus Christ and Angels look Indian and the decor very much so). I witness the Indian tolerance which I have for long read about, as the whole group lights incense and candles at both temple and church, you wouldn't distinguish worshipers from one another. I light a candle and wish for a year of serenity.

Whenever I travel I try to get a local feel of places, sometimes I manage, sometimes I don't. In 70s Goa I wore my most Hippie shawls and tops and sang Dancing Queen at the top of my lungs. I learned the basic hindi dance moves to Bhool Bhulaiyaa a hit in India then -inspired by an earlier hit titled Hare Rama Hare Krishna- from a colleague who will be the ultimate Bollywood star if he makes this wise move. I ate spicy food till I could feel curry in my toe and almost cried eating a chili (a friend's idea of a joke or dare), accepted friends offering of fruit salad sprinkled with chili sold on street carts outside the temple.


I still keep the fondest memories of this beautiful haven where time has stopped. I email my best friend when I go home (as Goa remained faithful to the 70s means of communication) and we both envision a meditation retreat in Goa before the end of the year.

Photo: mural in Goa resort

Links:
Holy Cow, a book which gave me great insight to the Indian culture and spirituality
Hare Krishna Hare Ram, the oldie version reminiscent of the hippie era
Sachs and Warner's article on the curse of natural resources
On Hindu gods, more on Shiva and Ganesh
The God of small things a story which describes the caste system
On keeping Indian traditions and transmitting them to your kids after migrating to new lands, watch The Namesake and read The Hindi Bindi club.

5 comments:

Teshmesh said...

shabba! te envío por este viaje, me han entrado muchas ganas de ir, a lo mejor encontraré allí a Shah Rokh Khan o a Aishuarya Rai ;)

Te felicito por el blog, me han gustado las experiencas de viaje que cuentas, aunque para serte sincera no he llegado a entender todo, porque como sabes, my english 3ala 2addo ;).

Ta7iyati. 3ala fekra, el nombre que uso es indio, shofti ma7asin essodaf, y quiere decir: guapa y sexy.

Teshmesh said...

Corrección:
te envío: te envidio ;) por si las moscas!!

Anonymous said...

akheeran! "The travel diaries of Bent El-Abd".

Pretty cool ya Ji. Love the name of the blog too, and the photo. Bas add more details ba2a about your travels..what food did you eat w keda, etc.

i look forward to reading more

signed,
rafeeq al-kefa7 el mozzayaf

Inji said...

Shabba, ya nos veremos para cantar (y bailar tambien) Hindi en cualquier cocina ;)

Inji said...

Rafik el kefa7, I'll try to be more elaborate, but you already know how patient I am ;)
Thanks for the encouragement!