Beef with the local Cobra Man

Cobra charmer
Originally uploaded by Christiane B

So I am being run out of town by an angry man with his cobra in a basket. Looks nice and peaceful but he is not a happy photo model. At least not unless you want to pay him a hundred million rupees (approx. number).

Missing the Beach

Boats II
Originally uploaded by Christiane B

So it turns out we are not really travelers, instead we are beach bums. The city's mango lassis are less fruity, the streets are about as sandy as the beaches but the dogs are less friendly and more mangy and well, we are scrapping Delhi for now and are heading out to a zen garden/Yoga retreat high up in the mountains.

Must branch out afterall and can't sit in Goa for the next three months. Goa did make me a published photographer though: shameless self-promotion here we go.

Delhi

Reporting from Delhi. It was 37c when we landed at 6pm but since Delhi pretty much rises out of the desert, there humidity is low and thus I am feeling quite good.

Delhi seems even more chaotic than Bombay: the baggage thing broke and some dudes were lining up wildly throwing bags all over the airport. We got ours. Then traffic no longer really gets to me: I am used to sharing the road with rickshaws fueled by bikes carrying their entire family, rickshaws motorized who carry an entire wood working shop, suitcases, and the entire family, bikes a la pride and joy who navigate traffic and carry at least a wife holding a baby. And then there are the cows. I think in India being a cow is the way to go. Traffic swerves around you, people feed you, nobody bothers you and you can trample through anyone's garden/yard/stall without repercussions.

The fist introduction to the city was a cab driver who tried to convince get out somewhere random with all our bags with the intention of pawning us off to his buddy in a rickshaw to cash in on a double fare which we of course refused. We then proceeded to crawl through dirty lively bustling alleys that may have been exploding of traffic even in donkey days.

The last few days in Goa where the opposite of Delhi: we stayed on lonely off-season beaches. Every night we had to navigate our paths back to our huts with wild packs of dogs running along side. Last night we sat in a beach hut bar having dinner and Indian rum with the waves crashing in huge and in the moonlight all you could see was the white foam and they were playing old Prince songs that mixed with the roaring of the monsoon winds. Over the past days we have also picked up a circus crew. Three girls from Europe and the US who are working in a Indian circus. They are very awesome and we are sad to have them return to their elephant and fire throwing acts.

Pictures still in camera.

Banana Hammock

Banana Hammock, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

The antithesis of the wet sari contest. I can see how the women prefer to maintain their dignity

Goa Life

Beach Scene, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

Women in the water in saris, motor scootering around the island, dodging insane traffic on windy roads Bourne Supremacy style, sitting in beach cafes drinking lassis, being harassed to buy trinkets, dog gangs roaming the beach. That's life in Goa.

Boat party India

Boat party, originally uploaded by Christiane B.

On to Goa

I think India will soon run the world. Every Indian we have met has bubbled over with curiosity and obviously amazing English skills. People are sharp and no bullshit on how they view the world and have big dreams and good educations. Also they are super duper amazingly nice. I think an Indian world domination would be the way to go.

We got to Goa during off season. Whole beach towns are empty save for the two hostels right by the sea and one of two bars each. Lovely. I can't imagine the little windy roads completely packed and every hostel booked and bursting with travelers in those wide hemp pants that make one's ass look like a donkey's. As much as the Indians we have met have been fantastic company and gringos have not so much. In every group larger than three there is at least one blond dread carrying a guitar wearing donkey ass pants and sporting a holier than thou disinterested, on the road of five years sort of expression. The coolest accessory is a love child with blond locks equally outfitted but drinking milk from a Nalgene bottle. The gringos we have seen both sport and attitude of too cool for school and can't possibly smile when passing other gringo or anyone for that matter on the street but somehow are unaware that they themselves are traveling in a pack of five which sort of kills the authenticity of the experience they must be craving ("yeah man, was in the back country where no other white man has ever set foot, strumming my guitar and the locals totally thought I was the long lost sadhu God of X. It was cause of my locks man").

On second thought: we will have to come back to Goa one day when the German, Italian and Israeli ravers are in full force. It seems wrong to miss that.