Ni Dieu Ni Maitre

The Going Itself is the Way

recent posts

about

  • Disaster strikes.

    This post is out of sequence, as a retrospective on India was planned. As has always happened, the departure from India was part ‘never again’ based on the outrageous and continuing pollution of the atmosphere throughout the subcontinent, and a desire to visit the Northeastern states which currently mostly feature clean air and diverse cultures. Some other time.

    But onward. I flew from Dabolim in Goa to an airport in Hyderabad, Eastern India, and thence to Bangkok where things went south in a hurry. Attempting to get some Thai Bhat from an ATM at the airport, the message came up ‘Card Cancelled’ and the card was swallowed by the machine. I had only the one old card, as the replacement card had never arrived at my hotel at Colva Beach. A card which had been misfiring was all I had, and the never appearing replacement card had been cancelled at my request.

    At first I blamed the bank and their ATM for the trouble and after much wrangling with various staffers, a technician was summoned to retrieve the card, much to my relief. We, three bank staffers and I, went to another airport ATM where the card was again shown as cancelled and swallowed. Done and done!

    I had an ongoing flight to Chiang Mai in the north and a one night hotel reservation there, so changing in my small amount of Indian rupees I flew north, basically penniless, in a country where I knew not a soul.

    Really, my only option at this point was the US Consulate in Chiang Mai, and in the morning I arranged an appointment for that afternoon. The previous day of three flights I had only eaten a packet of cashews purchased on my last flight. This day, after my consular appointment, I had enough bhats to buy a packet of peanuts. Unintentional weight loss… Things at the consulate were a bit weird. The outside Thai staff seemed to have been selected for their inability to speak English, though they were friendly and tried to be helpful. Once inside, in a sterile and overcooled large room, I was directed to a solitary cubicle, separated from the staff by several inches of bullet-proof glass with a narrow slot to push paperwork through. My first contact was with a friendly and helpful Thai woman as I waited on the arrival of a consular official in the chilly cubicle. This fellow seemed peeved at having to actually do something to earn his salary (the rest of the larger office, with its numerous numbered bulletproof windows remained totally empty during my three and a half hours of filling out forms and hanging around).

    In any event, after hours of this I received a plane ticket back to Boston, enough Bhats to get to the airport and $60. I was also informed by this American functionary that he was cancelling my passport, something which no one has ever been able to explain to me, including the Department of State, who finally concluded that ‘such matters are at the discretion of the American consul. Dickhead.

    (just random stock photos on this page)

  • Lost in Space

    If you were able to access my posts, Obsessing and Obsessing 2, you are aware that the big concern over the next move has been Air Quality and the Air Quality Index (AQI), with air pollution being a massive problem these days in India especially. Now added to this is the winter monsoon in the North and East of Sri Lanka. Trinconmalee on the east coast seemed like a great destination and ‘what’s a little rain’? Well, it’s a monsoon! And the North and East of SL are smack in the midst of several months of it. (pics are from an earlier bicycle tour in Sri Lanka)

    Makena Beach, Maui, 1970. I lived in a huge tent in a soaking December with a half dozen friends, the Perverted Pirates, so called although they were just a bunch of male and female kids from California. It rained day and night for the whole month, often torrentially. Fortunately, the pirates had a large stash of opiated hash and most of the month went by in a daze, up on one elbow occasionally to pass the pipe. And I experienced the Indian monsoon when I bicycled from the dry areas north of the first range of the Himalayas over the pass to the south and the incredible rains of that monsoon… No thank you!

    So, in addition to watching a half a dozen AQI readings daily, now I’ve got the monsoon watch. The latest on AQI is some rather distressing news. Wondering about the accuracy of Accuweather reports on my phone, both on weather and air quality, I checked Weather Underground and IQAir sites on the laptop for comparisons. And, by gum, the 2 weather sites can’t even agree on whether it’s raining or sunny in various places.

    But the kicker is the 3 AQI reports on the same cities in the same hour at midday. Two only for Colva Beach, AQI 70 or 107. Three for Guwahati, 66, 84, and135! Same place, same hour… Thiruvananthapuram, way south of here in Kerala state, another place I’ve been thinking of going, 43, 73, 92! Negombo, where I was previously, 27, 34, 91! You can see the dilemma. What to believe when the data is crap. I’m tracking 8 cities and 6 of the much higher readings are from Accuweather, which has been my main source for the last while.

    This 6 foot long monitor lizard doesn’t mind the rain at all. Photographed from a footbridge above.

    So, I’m sitting here in Colva, taking long walks of 4 to 6 miles on days when the supposed AQI seems lower, in the 60 to 70 range. My ‘travel’ plan has quickly evolved into getting somewhere and squatting for weeks and weeks. This is probably according to plan as I recorded much of my massive jazz cd collection onto my backup hard drive as well as a lot of my classical collection. I have video games to play, movies and TV series to watch, live feeds of the Celtics and Patriots games that I can watch on late nights and early mornings, novels to read, massive doses of International news and some US. This mess doesn’t depress me. I guess I’m inured to it all, more and more bad news every day. But at 80, I’m just an observer now and taking it easy.

  • Beers of Goa

    I like to drink beer, and am always curious about new beers. That said, Indian and Southeast Asian beers have been nothing to crow about for the many decades I’ve bicycled around these parts. The only American mass beer that uses rice in their mash is Budweiser, but most beers here do also. Bud uses 30% rice to make beer that is lighter in color, crisper and pretty flavorless. No surprise really that Bud is now the number 2 beer in Goa. Kingfisher, always the big dog here, remains #1.

    This is the only bottle of Kingfisher wheat beer that I’ve found, and it is pretty innocuous. The Bud Magnum is popular here as is regular Bud. Supposedly this is 8% ABV, but it is actually pretty good.

    You cannot go wrong copying Belgian beer. The Maka is good, better than the competition. Additionally Tuborg, and Carlsberg put in appearances here but are ricey and light. Heineken is here also, but is ‘100% Barley Malt’ and is the best of the import bunch.

    Peoples Lager, a craft beer, is pretty available in shops and restaurants and is OK, but pricier. Here is their ‘Wit’, Belgian style. The Aussie beer was expensive and nothing special.

    This Maka product is fortified grape juice, not beer, but it is 15%. The Elephant is true to its European origin at 8% .

    Here’s a couple of winners, a real malt beer made from barley with no rice, and a Maka Tripel at 8%, miles away from a Rochefort or other Trappist made Belgian brews, but decent enough. India has a tradition of ‘strong beers’ with names like ‘Knockout’ and they are pretty undrinkable but the craft brewed strong beers are decent.

    ‘Who was the first hippie to visit Goa? Or rather, ever wonder? Who was the first tourist to visit the state after the liberation? Well, the search is over. Yertward Mazamanian (1924 – 2010) popularly known as ‘Eight Finger Eddie’, was the first hippie to visit Goa and eventually introduced Goa to the hippies. Thus, Putting Goa on the hippie trail and the world map.’

    I never knew this. But these 2 beers from Goa Brewing are top notch, with Plastic Chairs going into my good column of beers that I look forward to enjoying. And lastly…

    “Plastic people, oh baby now you’re such a drag” Frank Zappa.

  • Another attempt to add a post

    I see that ‘Ni Dieu Ni Maitre’ is nowhere mentioned in the headers over this post. So it too will probably not appear on ‘my’ blog And it’s ‘my’ problem. What a cheezy rip off.

    Why do the cows love the beach? This area is deserted, no people, no discarded food, just sand and sea.

    In any event, the rainy days have ended at Colva and with each day that passes the Air Qualitry Index shoots back up 10 or 15 points. Yesterday it was 83, poor. So I’m searching for clean air somewhere. I’ve got 5 possibilities that I’m watching, but it has been disappointing. Pokhara, in Nepal, near the foot of the majestic Annapurna, is posting an AQI of 104! Classified unhealthy, and this a famous trekking spot where I was hoping to hike.

    Trinconmalee, or Trinco, on the East coast of Sri Lanka, is posting around 50, which I could accept since there are (or were) some nice quiet beaches north of this city… even deserted beaches 15 years ago. Ankola, another Indian beach town in Karnataka state south of Goa is posting about the same as Trinco, but it may be raining in both places.

    Here’s a Hindu festival in Colva. Hundreds of women in their nicest saris lined the beach near twilight, for a quarter mile, setting up tripods and offerings to assure good fortune to their families and particularly their husbands, to the tune of lots of firecrackers. No idea if this went on all night…

    A dinner guest arrives!

    Well that’s about it, eating well, sleeping well, keeping within my budget and enjoying good health. Hope everyone is doing the same!

  • Strolling along the beach.

    Put on my hiking boots and set out after breakfast for a walk to Benaulim beach, a few KM south. I had heard that there was some night life there and no crowds with a vibrant fishing community active as well. Sounded ideal.

    This beach stretches for miles and miles. The recently wetted sand provides a solid surface to walk along. Spotted some small plover-type shore birds and some fisher hawks as well.

    Wandering through the boats. I don’t think these fishermen venture out of sight of land, but they are motorized. Arriving in Benaulim, I was pretty well fagged out and sat over a cup of coffee for about an hour. What a pleasant place! I noticed that the ‘beach shacks’ had their signs in more Russian than English

    Having recovered it was time to check out the hotel scene, back off the beach. Actually, there wasn’t much. A new, large and fancy gated community, and another upscale place with very nice cabanas for double what I’m paying in Colva. More looking turned up nothing. Back to the beach for lunch and a beer. If only I could find a reasonable place to stay for a price I could afford… this is a very attractive and quiet beach.

    Heading back, I quickly saw another place to stay, a bunch of dismal looking square wooden boxes or cabins which bore looking at. The price with no a/c or wi-fi, more than what I’m paying in Colva… to live in a box! Well, so much for Benaulim.

    And a slow trek back up the beach to Colva. Eventually I will take a shot at Palolem beach, further south, and a place I have been before. After nearly 15 years it’s hard to know what to expect.

    Colva again.

  • Colva Beach

    I had gotten quite comfortable in Panaji, learning to do the sweaty walk over the hill to the main town for lunch and business and taking breakfast, cappuchino, drinks and so on in the old town. I was so much at home that inertia had set in and the idea of going off to one of Goa’s beaches looked increasingly difficult.

    But one morning, I woke at five, and started to pack. I decided on Colva beach after reading a number of Travel blurbs describing it as a kind of paradise with lots of amenities. I was wary, envisioning an amped up Negombo Beach or, even a mini Miami Beach, with rows of giant hotels.

    The reality was quite a surprise. In one way it was a pleasant relief, but at the same time somewhat of a letdown. This is Colva beach? A bunch of shacks, a handful of mostly shabby hotels, many under extensive repairs and closed, food shacks, clothing shacks, a mostly barren beach and lots of cows everywhere.

    It’s not a horrible place, just fairly dull. It’s mainly a place for Indian tourists, although there is one place down the beach full of Euros and Aussies, with menus in Russian. Their ‘Indian’ food is not spicy. Night life? Well, I have trouble staying awake after 9, but it doesn’t look like there’s much at all.

    The ocean is here, but so are the stinging jellyfish… I haven’t seen many bathers even getting waist deep. My hotel has a pool. Checking out the nightlife, there were plenty of bright lights up and down the main road, but hardly any activity. It’s mainly a family place.

    But then there are the cows… and the amazingly fine-grained white sand.

    The lights are on, as I walked down several streets after dark, but absolutely nothing is happening. I’m comfortable enough here, with fan, A/C, the pool, the room door which I’ve managed to get locked as I go out a few times,, but mostly have to get a staff person to struggle with it. And then there’s the unlocking! I did it once, but often several staffers spend time struggling with it, pulling, twisting, pounding and kicking the door (this worked once) and eventually the door gets opened. Tomorrow I will walk the 2km down to Benaulim beach to check out an alternative.

  • Extra stuff

    ++

    I see that Donny Trump wants to have his image on a dollar coin. I’ve seen this BS before…

    Here’s the then sitting president of Sri Lanka, Rajapaksa in 2015, on his new money bearing his image and evidently raising the flag at Iwo Jima. My reaction… the mark of the dictator. He bankrupted his country and was driven out in disgrace. As America sleepwalks.

    What?

    Hitch-hiking days: Got invited out to Berkeley, Cal. by Annie, my ex. Sure enough, I hitch-hiked out. Unfortunately, I had a plan to only hitch on 2 lane roads and camp one night in each state I passed through. This didn’t work so well in the chimney of Idaho, only about 50 miles across when I had a ride to Spokane, but asked to get out after about an hours ride.

    My street in the old Panaji.

    By the time I hit Berkley, Annie had a new boyfriend, but she and her housemates said I could stay for a few weeks. I do recall seeing Commander Cody ant the Lost Planet Airmen at a free concert in People’s Park… but then headed home, still stuck on the 2 lanes.

    Old Portugese interior in one of my favorite restaurants.

    It was a hot August and the rides on the small roads were few and short. One farmer heading over to the hardware store in the next town, hours later another off to the feed store 10 miles down the road. I was standing for hours in the shade of a big oak when I walked back into the town and got a quart of Pabst Blue Ribbon and drank most of it while waiting around. After a bit, an attractive young blond went by in a white Caddy convertible. I cursed my luck, thinking, ‘Why do I never get a ride like that?’

    Japanese place.

    But then she came back, slowly drove by, checking me out, made a U-turn and picked me up. Marie had been drinking, as had I, and we stopped in several small town farmer’s bars where she explained to the bartender how to make a Grasshopper and I drank Leinenkugel’s, the local beer. At one point, feeling tipsy, she dropped a large wad of cash out of her bag onto the barroom floor, which I gallantly gathered up and put back in the bag… we were pretty well toasted and night was falling.

    She suggested a motel, but just then we came up on a large graveyard down a dirt road with a wide open gate. I said, ‘Hey, I have a tent and it’s a warm night, let’s pull in here and park out of sight of the road. We haven’t seen another car for a half hour.’ So we did. It was a full moon night and the place was full of statuary, angels, religious figures… we threw off our clothes and ran and danced around in the moonlight, like something out of a Fellini movie.

    In the morning, she explained her situation as the girlfriend of a construction boss off on a project in a remote area. She was the only woman on the site and lived in a trailer. Her boyfriend took off in the early morning and arrived home late for supper and sex. She finally got so bored that she grabbed his car and money and took off, but after buying me breakfast, she realized that she had to go back or he would certainly notify the police. End of story.

  • Goa

    Massive changes in 15 years.

    Again arrived in the dark and was overcharged for a fairly long cab ride to the capitol, Panjim/Panaji. I had been in this town twice before and got a hotel in the same neighborhoods. In 1985 was the first time and 2011 later. The changes over those years were small, and this sleepy former Portuguese colony retained a laid back charm.

    However, in 2011 I saw both the rise of an Indian middle class and the subsequent growth of domestic tourism. Both positives, but certainly massively changing former hippie haunts, as on the beaches of Goa into jet ski, speed boat rides out to harass the dolphins, huge hotel scenes… or at least that’s what I’m looking at online.

    The section of town that I’m in, just over a small hill from the main city cathedral, hasn’t changed all that much, with only a few upscale restaurants near the main junction. It caters to domestic tourists, and does have its charms. The city itself, however, has sprouted upward and outward into is now mainly tourist oriented.

    Which brings me to my current dilemma. In my late teens and early twenties, I was a hitch-hiker with a knapsack, crossing Canada and up to Alaska, circumnavigating the continental United States, camping in wilderness areas and later living on beaches in Hawaii for over a year, Then I discovered the 10 speed bicycle and shortly thereafter, cycle touring. I’ve ridden through dozens of countries on 5 continents with a partner and without. Through it all, I saw myself as a traveller, rather than a tourist, even avoiding tourist spots to live among the people of the lands I visited.

    But so far, I’m a tourist losing my freedom and independence and dealing with mainly people in the service industry, servicing tourists. My transportation has to be provided, lately by dishonest cab drivers. And after spending a fair while in Panaji, I’ll soon be heading off to one of the many tourist beaches here in Goa.

    The answer is pretty obvious… seek out more remote and interesting places and become a traveller once more. Easier said than done, and this will take some serious preparation… The North Eastern states of India look like a good choice from a few guys I have talked to who have come down here to work.

    They’re in the process of buffing and repainting this old Hindu temple.

  • Mumbai

    +

    Arrived in the severely polluted metropolis at around 2AM. Why my return left at 11:40 at night I have no idea. Hundreds of passengers from numerous flights queued up for hours to pass through customs and finally get their visa stamped. Left the airport at 4:30 AM, got a not very nice hotel and slept.

    From the hotel window.

    I will say that the room was comfortable and that I ate quite well and slept well. The hotel staff was also quite helpful. But problems abounded. First was a prearranged video call to my bank, late in the evening my time, and lasting two and a half hours of video fades and my inability to type and send an email on my new phone, but everything worked out in the end.

    Mumbai sidewalk. They are often blocked completely, causing everyone to walk in the horn honking traffic, which seems endless. Crossing the street means dodging between the hurtling vehicles as well.

    Spending hours attempting to buy an airline ticket to Goa, the stumbling block was my new phone number that was deemed incorrect. Several tuk-tuk rides across the metropolis to an Airtel phone facility determined that the correct phone sequence would be the airlines ‘+91′ the country code for India, followed by my ’91 91’ then the actual cell number. Or in some instances only one additional 91 guessed at by trial and error.

    Walking in the traffic.

    And the final stumbling block? No airline would accept a Visa card as payment! Nor would any bus line. Days are passing here with no action and a lot of frustration. Fortunately, I had gotten a lot of rupees at the airport on arrival, and finally with the help of the hotel staff, we contacted a travel agent who would accept the cash and get the ticket for me. Naturally enough, another late night flight, again arriving in the dark. One good thing in Mumbai. Lunch at a nice restaurant every day and several times enjoying Kaju Masala (kaju=cashews).

  • Leaving Sri Lanka

    The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao
    The name that can be named is not the eternal name
    The nameless is the origin of Heaven and Earth
    The named is the mother of myriad things

    I’ve come on a site which has dozens of translations of the Tao Te Ching. This has absolutely nothing to do with my topic for the day, as I am heading to India this evening. Mostly this page is a pictorial good word for Sri Lanka.

    Wetlands.

    Agriculture, downhill from a huge ancient reservoir.

    Unspoiled beaches.

    Wildlife.

    It’s a fairly small island.

    Bicycling with my friend Tony some years back.

    Up in the hills.

    And the waterfalls…