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“robbed, by some swift-footed street urchin” |
I flew into Mumbai International, and then took a domestic flight with Indian Airlines into Goa.
The first thing that struck me about India was the quantity of lucious thick green vegetation I could see from the plane: the whole land (around Mumbai and Goa at least) is covered with dense forest. In England the land may be pleasant, but it's not particularly green in comparison.
At Heathrow I had been required to check the liquids (toothpaste, sun cream, etc.) that I had intended to carry as hand luggage. When I collected my baggage at Mumbai, I had my backpack on a trolley, and my 'liquids parcel' on the top of the trolley, in front of me just at my waist. As I entered the terminal building, where I would be boarding for the flight to Goa, I looked up at the departures board. I looked down, only to find that my parcel was gone! With a mixture of utter disbelief at my early misfortune, and admiration for his considerable talents, I quickly came to the conclusion that I had been robbed, by some swift-footed street urchin who had stealthily whipped the parcel out from under my nose as I was looking up. Of course, I began to protest to the nearest uniformed police officer, who seemed slightly flustered at me, but defintely concerned.
It was then that I realised that, just as I entered the terminal building, I had swapped one wonky-steering trolley for a slightly less wonking-steering trolley, and had left my parcel behind. Phew - it was still there when I went back. I think the policeman was relieved too.
Even in the airport at Mumbai I noticed that there are many more women dressed traditionally, in saris, than there are women dressed in the more western jeans and a t-shirt. This isn't the case with men though: I've seen very few men dressed traditionally (in fact, the only instance I can think of was a hotel doorman, who was wearing a headress to top his otherwise western uniform).
From what I've read, I'm expecting India to be a country of extremes; what I've seen so far confirms this. All around me I see a mixture of both very new and very old: the sign for the internet cafe that I'm in now is hand-painted. As I queued for my bus ticket into Panjim yesterday, I was at the front of a long line of people standing on a dirt road waiting to be given a little piece of paper torn out of a book from a man standing in a small dirty metal booth that had 'Panjim' painted over it. The little old lady wearing a sari waiting in front of me reached into the folds of her dress, pulled out a colour-screen mobile, and began to send a text.
As you might imagine, there is quite a lot here that is alien to me. On the flight from Mumbai into Goa, we were served lunch. I had a little cup of lemonade, and a vegetarian rice & (something like) couscous meal. The lemonade was salty, and the couscous was sweet!
Panjim is the state capital of Goa, and there's quite a lot of traffic here - cars, buses, and loads of scooters and motorbikes. There are no traffic lights on the roads, although at some of the really major junctions there are police men conducting the traffic. The driving customs seem to be 'proceed at will, but with caution so as to avoid being hit' and 'sound horn intermittantly, regardless of the condition of the traffic around you' (seriously, even on a completely empty road, you must beep your horn).
And you don't call a taxi here, the taxis call you: Hello mate, taxi! Taxi sir! Yes sir, taxi?! All day. I suspect though that as an obvious tourist I might be getting special treatment (and perhaps it's beginning-of-the-season excitement: I have seen very few foreigners here so far).
People are very friendly, even if they don't want your money. At least three complete strangers have approached me today, said hello, introduced themselves, asked where I'm from, and with a smile bid me a pleasant stay. This morning I visited the Catholic church here in Panjim (a former Portugeuse colony). On my way down the great flights of steps from the church, I heard a 'Hello friend' from behind me. I man with one tooth smiled at me and offered me his hand. He asked where I was from. 'England' I said. 'Oh, Great England!' he said. 'Yes, Great Britain' I said. My new friend smiled again and said, 'My name is Hallelujah Lobo'. 'Lobo' I said, offering my hand again. 'No no no sir!' he said, 'Hallelujah Lobo'. 'Praise be to God', I said. Hallelujah agreed.
previous travel blog entry
Kevin of Grafham says:
An article in summary of some of my observations on India, as well as some of my other writing, is available on my website at www.kevinjoyner.com/writer and www.kevinjoyner.com/blog.