touching down and hitting the ground

If you want to avoid a celebration of Christmas…of any kind, then I recommend taking a flight around the world beginning on Christmas Eve. My intention was not to escape Christmas altogether but when my in-flight dinner of spaghetti came in the foil topped rectangular 3x5 dish, I wasn’t exactly humming the tune of "O Tannenbaum".

Christmas aside, my flights went without a hitch. One and a half days after I departed Portland I arrived to Anjuna Beach, Goa, India; probably the touristiest place in the entire country.
If you’ve ever been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras or Germany for Oktoberfest, you can imagine the housing predicament I was facing upon arrival: no advance reservations and Goa is FULL. After a few hours of soaking in the beautiful sunshine and wading through the ocean waves I headed out on foot and began my search for a place to call home.

My jetlag (there is a 12 ½ hour time difference) and having only 2 ½ hours of sleep in two days made me really look forward to opening my bags, settling in and getting some undisturbed sleep. When inquiring around about room availability, every person I spoke to said I would never find a room for less than 1500 rupees (~$38/night). However I would not settle and continued with my standard backpacker accommodation criteria:
1) clean and working bathroom
2) host family lives on the property
3) other backpackers are also staying there
4) overhead fan in room
5) relaxing outside sitting area

Despite the naysayers, I set my mind to finding this visualized space. After a couple of hours of wandering and meeting interesting people along the way, I DID find this room and it was just as I had visualized. Not only that, incredibly it was offered to me at the rate I normally pay even in low season locales.

At Omkar Guest House, my new digs, there is a peaceful landscaped courtyard (of which the lawn is mowed by a man squatting and using scissor blades to cut the grass manually) surrounded by lots of shade providing trees, from which the host family inexplicably hangs old shoes and garden hoses. I have to guess that the shoe-hose look is intentional because every other grooming aspect of the grounds is impeccably manicured.
My next door neighbor is Ben from Manchester, England. It’s been nice to have a pal at home base when decompressing from the stimulation beyond the gates of Omkar Guest House.

I mentioned earlier that this is the peak season in Goa…well it is FULL ON. Every restaurant, beach shack and party is filled with people from around the world. It is, at the very least, some of the best people watching I’ve ever seen. I like to try and guess what country people come from based on their clothes, skin and body language…even before I hear them speak (which is usually the give-away clue.)

So far since I’ve been here I’ve spent every day on the beach and every night at 9 Bar, which is an open air Goa Psy-trance club on the cliff overlooking the waves and the sun setting into the Indian Ocean. I have also visited one of many markets so I could begin to get a feel for what kinds of goods are available this season.

I am really pleased with all the fun stuff and beautiful clothing!
As with fashions everywhere the clothing and accessories available evolve and reflect the change in how we want to extend ourselves through our clothing. Since the majority of the clothing available in Goa is representative of the rave and party culture, I can best make an analogy through the fashions of the Burning Man festival. When I first attended Burning Man in 2001 I noticed lots of black light neon colors. The timing of that first trip to the playa is now correlating with what I am noticing in Goa fashion trends. On my first trip to Goa, also in 2001, I was overwhelmed with clothes with a style priority of utilizing a black light affect at parties.
Thankfully, I am seeing a resurgence of much more availability of earth tones fashioned in a tribal yet modern style. These clothes, often characterized with utilitarian zippers and pockets, suit the style I like in that they are practical and stylish without creating a spectacle.

In the Anjuna/Vagator/Chapora “triplex area” (as I like to call it), to reach markets where clothes like this are available transportation is necessary. Everything is spread out throughout the surrounds. On only my second day here I decided to hire my own motorbike instead of having to rely on taxis or walking alone in the dark at night. Dismissing the need to recuperate from jetlag and lack of sleep I proceeded with plans I’ve had for two months to see live concert by the MIDIval Pundits and DJ Cheb i Sabbah. Despite feeling completely “knackered” (as the Brits say) I felt obligated to get out to see this show.

In the dark I warily drove my bike up sandy pathways to pick up a friend on the way. Feeling really disoriented and a bit sketched out, I took a turn that I realized too late was actually a private driveway and I was halted by a dead-end with a house at the end. From the front porch I noticed silhouettes of 5 different dogs standing up in bristled attention. I immediately froze and my fear of dogs surfaced…and of course the dogs sensed it so they barked and ran straight at me. I freaked! …I accelerated while trying to make a 180 in a narrow dark alley
And wiped out…
A group of nearby Russians came over to the sounds of the crash and with minimal English helped me to my feet and back on the bike.
I smashed the face plate and a turn signal light and I have scratches up my arms. Despite the blood, bruises and cuts all I could think about is how the man who I rented the bike from will react…and also wondering:
How can I keep myself from feeling tormenting by the dogs of India?

I’ve never expounded on my fear of the dogs in ALL of SE Asia and now I’d like to drop some doggie doo on your lawn: THE DOGS HERE SUCK. They are mutts who, by day, have the shit beat out of them by the locals and by night, roam freely in packs ready to attack. The Indian dogs, above every other “challenge” that comes in traveling, are my greatest nemesis. They lie quietly with their sandy dirt stained, scarred fur that blends in with the grass. I never notice them there until I am already close up to them
…which fills me with fear
…that they immediately sense
…they bark and approach
And I just want to run away as far as possible.
It’s a vicious cycle.
I often feel, when wandering around, that I’m walking in a minefield and keep an eye out for the dogs wherever I go.
By the way, I left out one of my criteria in looking for a guesthouse:
6) no mean dogs nearby

New Years Eve is right around the corner and the energy in Goa is building hour by hour.
Look forward in the next dwanjabi blog for a more descriptive profile of the Goa party culture that influences the funky fashions.
…and also how I make it through the most full-power parties of the year in Goa, India.

to see the photos from this missive, visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/meredith415/sets/72157594449506296/