| 作者 |
 游记/重返印度之Goa果阿 |
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Giraffine
头衔: 海归中士
性别:  年龄: 48
加入时间: 2006/02/22
文章: 6
海归分: 939
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作者：Giraffine 在 海归茶馆 发贴, 来自【海归网】 http://www.haiguinet.com
Delhi is almost unlivable during pre-Monsoon season, almost forever grey, the mercury swing between forty to forth-five degrees, and a not-walking-friendly city, literally nowhere to go but shopping arcades and coffee shops. So it was time to plan for another trip. After one year navigating around the whole subcontinent, there're not so many choices left for me to explore, Darjeeling in north for the tea and Goa in south for the sea, and the tickets for Darjeeling was as sky as the altitude, so I was there on my Spicejet plane to Goa, exactly ten days ago with my always packed rucksack.
I learnt the Portuguese word sossegarde (carefree) years ago in Macau, another former colonial enclave under the once master-of-sea country, and as most of local life goes in Goa, it's also the word to encapsulate the essence. While most of the subcontinent was colonized by the British Raj, Goa's overlords were the Portuguese, whom as Latino are far more inclined to enjoy the meaning of Carpe Diem than the Anglo-Saxon. Furthermore, as Portugal's first approach to Asia mainly for the spices, silk and the linchpin for the whole trade network from China Empire to the Spice Islands, Goa was there for over four hundred and fifty years ever since early seventeenth century. From the wonderful vernacular colonial houses scattered in little visited almost broken-down inland villages to late-Baroque style churches with dripping gilt, crystal and stucco in every major town, from Sunday morning masses to women's pre-way style European dress, from beef steak and pork sausage (a taboo in most India as a Hindu/Muslim country!) to hole-in-the-wall fish curry rice shops with names as Xavier's or Casa Dona, Goa and the Goans are the rather alternative aspect of India.
But then ever since the late sixties and seventies, there have been the hippies coming from Bombay, got stoned as freaks after mad full moon parties, watched gorgeous sunsets over Arabian Sea, walked along miles after miles of beaches naked, driven along bumpy interior road with rented moped in deadly speed, with the past decade seeing Russians wintered in secluded coconut coves for over six months a year, Frisbee throwing Israelis freshly out of army shouted loudly in Hebrew in palm leaf shacks, Rajneesh followers pulling out yoga mats on beach for an OSHO meditation, local Indians from Bombay swimming with underpants with their wives watching in saris, Goa has been the drop-out zone for foreign tourist and exciting place to local guys to watch western women, an ubiquitous exotic destination for everyone.
That's probably why I have been trying to avoid Goa for so long, while some tourists have put Goa as the first, if not only, place to be in India. In peak seasons from late September to early April, any beach will be packed with thousands of long-stay visitors, and many will come back year after year for the heavenly Goan food blending the Latin love of meat and fish with India's predilection for spices, picturesque no break beaches with breathtaking sunsets day after day over the Arabian sea, weekly flea market with backpackers selling out party gears before heading back home and Tibetan refugees' Buddhist praying wheels, almost like rocker-fuel spirit distilled from cashew fruit or coconut sap mixed with drugs in full moon nights for a Goa Trance party…
Having said all of that, my days in Goa were very different as it is the wrong season, Monsoon is coming in any day, the sun is getting too hot to comfort, not the holiday time for any country, and most people are in the Himalaya for the long summer. So the way I traveled was not cool or exciting, mostly by bus instead of rented motorcycle as I never went back to where I started, I was the only guest in all the guesthouses I stayed except Panjim where the capital is, and the Saturday evening Ingo's market was even closed the night I went to check out.
Never the less I enjoyed the major part of the trip. One of the most rewarding trips was Old Goa, the former capital, a one-time splendor with population greater than London and Lisbon, virtually abandoned following malaria and cholera epidemics was a granted World Heritage by UNESCO. Long gone were the maze of twisting streets, piazzas and ochre-washed villas, all that remains are the greatest churches in India with gigantic facades, gilt altars, wood carving shines and marvelous stone gates once served as entrances to the grand capital for the European lords and Christian missionaries. As Roman Christians, the Goans worship and festive curiously different from the others in the world, St Francis Xavier as Bom Jesus, enshrined in the great basilica is for sure as holy as Jesus Christ, be Darshaned by Christian pilgrims from all over India as far as Calcutta. Darshan is the Hindu word for seeing the shrine and the god, the way pilgrims pray in front of the tomb of St Francis Xavier remains me how people worship in Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.
The other different aspect of Goan's religious life is the Hindus. Being the native religion in Goa, the Hindu is still a big part of the population, living in the interior villages around Ponda and Margao. Most of the ancient Hindu temples were broken down by the Portuguese preachers after violent inquisitions from mid 17 th century, as the result the new Goan Hindu Temples are all in rather novel style, with lamp-tower several stories high, decorated with oil lamps on festive occasions, the domes that cover the central shrine in place of the traditional shikhara, and the small tower at the entrance of the courtyard, and the curving roofs of the Mandapas, it's really difficult to tell which is the expression of the Mughal rules, which is influenced by the Portuguese and which is local Goan heritage for the pouring rains and rigid sunshine.
Considerably more prosperous than neighboring states, many immigrants deluge to Goa as economic refugees, all the masseurs for Ayurvedic oil massage are from Kerala, Tibetan and Rajasthani hawkers hanging around flea market together with hippie backpackers, and a bunch of expatriates settled down for restaurants hotels and discos, together with long hair nudists from the Western world never left Goa since the 1960's.
Yet tourism is the double-edge knife, one side it helps locals to improve their life, brings in dollars and made Goan Trance once the coolest theme in UK radios, on the other hand in low seasons all migrants have to go back home as there's no work to do and no one to sell to, local people find it's difficult to cope up with the inflation thanks to foreign and Bombayker tourists, luxury hotels and resorts are mushrooming from every beach which always dominate the coastline with bushy lawns, jet-skis and motorboats for parasailing pouring awful petrol smell at popular beaches, plastic bottles and other industrial rubbish on any beach in low tide, although the Monsoon brings in two and half meters rainfall a year in dry season the draught is severe…
My trip was planned to be a good ten days, following the pattern I had in South Thailand last summer as a sea gipsy from Hua Hin to Hat Yai, I was about to drift around from South Goa via the inland to North Goa, end up in Candilim-Calanguatte-Baga beach after I finish a heavy book I have been traveling with for six months now. So two days ago in early morning I went down to the beach from my one hundred and eighty degree sea view room, walked all the way along the coast with no break white sand till the reef and turned back, in between I had to cut through at least two thousands locals women in saris men in underpants, twenty people introduced themselves as professional masseurs for authentic Aryuvedic, thirty ice cream wallahs tried to sell me the deadly sweet mango 'iceclaim' and one big Bollywood movie being shooting on beach with superstars in bikinis and another thousands of the onlookers.
It was around noon time as I have been listening the lectures of The Teaching Company from my iPod for the whole morning and the sun was almost straight on top of my head when I heard some suspicious steps around me, it's odd as all the locals were there with the movie people and the sounds were just steps away from me, so I stopped and looked around, two local young guys taller than me (considering my height, they are big as south Indians) also stopped and looked around. So I restarted and tried to accelerate to the next crowd about a hundred meters away. All in a sudden one guy approached me from my back by holding me firmly, while the other guy came to me from front. I shouted sharply with all of my force and waived my elbow strongly to the guy at my back, with another hand trying to throw my sandals which were in my hand to the guy in front, when he put his hand to cover my mouth I instinctly opened my teeth to bite him, meanwhile kicked out my knees to his lower part, as was instructed by all of the coaches I had before for self-defense, then I was punched on my face when the rear guy started to grab the little purse attached to my wrist in vain, I must have injured him badly as he shouted out after the kick as some two minutes late they stopped the attack and run away. Watched them disappearing in the palm bush, I started to feel the pain and realized I was bleeding with two front teeth missing. So I searched around without any founding but a shoe from one of the guys, and I ran back to my guesthouse just a hundred meters away. There were some local women bathing right in front of the boat there, but I am not sure whether they have not noticed what happened or they tried to ignore, nobody looked at my direction all the way up to the bank.
Back to my room with terrace, washed off the blood and sand on my face, had one whole bottle of water to cool down, freaked out for five minutes out of terror and disgust, called Spicejet to change my flight back to the capital, talked to the very hospitable owner, told her no need to report to the police as it doesn't worth the hassle, said bye to the villagers on way to main road, I jumped to the plane and now in Delhi writing my experience and waiting for my appointment this afternoon with the dentist of an implant.
There was a thunderstorm the night arrived in Delhi; today's newspapers are all with articles about bad traffic and possible flood this year with reminders of the last year's disaster in Bombay. Goa won't have the same problem as most of the people are ready for the Monsoon and I haven't seen any one living in street or slum yet. Cashew nuts, coconuts and tourists bring comfortable living level to the Goan as least for Indian standard, and centuries of Christian ruling somehow changed the intolerant aspect of Hindu/Muslim Indian. However questions are still bothering me about the past, present and future of Goa, the Oriental Pearl:
Did Vatican ever apologize for Goan Inquisition? The missionaries were sent to 'save' the corrupted colonizers, while the whole conversion destroyed the Hindu society, was it justified?
How to evaluate the history of colonization in Goa, in the subcontinent and in China? The Goans have relatively high educated level in India, should it be a credit for the Portuguese?
What is the difference of being an expatriate or a tourist? Even in the expats settled down in Goa are mostly in isolated ghettos with army of servants around, what's the difference now and centuries ago?
Is low cost backpacker or luxurious hotel tourists better for Goa? In certain way this is ask whether chartered British and local Bombaykers or tie die low spend hard drinking long term young westerns, which is less harmful for Goa with the most benefit?
Can we find a balance between development and harms to nature? Should we just ban concrete building and lush lawns at any beach? Or is it really what the Goans care?
To what extent should the tourist respect the local life? Should topless and nudists be a taboo or should we just walking along the fishing boats with whatever the way we want to be?
Is my experience unique? How many tourists have been raped or robbed? Have the government/police ever got into it? Would they do anything?
Are the two guys Goan or migrants? In either case, why was it, an impulse or a profession? Accord to my hostess they are from Kerala the poor neighborhood state, then can Goa be prosperous alone?
What could I have done to avoid the incident? Should I just give up traveling alone in India? Will this incident change my view and feeling with India? Or should I still believe it's a beautiful country as I used to?
Too many questions. The irony is, I was listening to Dante's Divine Comedy when I was attacked. As an exiled thinking Dante wrote the Divine Comedy in the middle age. I sometimes look my life since I left my stable life and job in Shanghai as a self-exile +exodus in search of something I don't know, but why I always end of a journey with more questions？
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作者：Giraffine 在 海归茶馆 发贴, 来自【海归网】 http://www.haiguinet.com
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 游记/重返印度之Goa果阿 -- Giraffine - (13126 Byte) 2006-5-16 周二, 22:24 (950 reads) - 读起来很累 -- wiser56 - (14 Byte) 2006-5-17 周三, 06:53 (183 reads)
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