The End of a perfect day or Silent Night

We’ve just enjoyed a very peaceful Sunday. Learning a bit of Hindi, Xmas phone calls to friends, laundry, eggs and bacon for breakfast, a run before dawn followed by a swim as the sun rose.

Peaceful that is until 6.00pm. Some thoughtful people have set up two microphones and four boom boxes just outside the flat. We guess we’re in for a couple of hours of Goan style Xmas Carols and some shouting from the local priest about the joys of Xmas. Oh good!

Yesterday we endured what sounded like a rally for the Nazi Party with Adolf Hitler as the main attraction. It turned out that about a dozen people were attending a ‘driving out of demons’ session or at least that’s what it looked like to Martin who went to investigate… nobody would tell him or didn’t what was going on and the rest of the locals were ignoring it despite the humungous noise.

Happy Birthday, Hari

Happy Birthday

Hari is 15 years old on Xmas Eve. This is a great opportunity for the beloved RTO (Road Traffic Office, which has a worse reputation that the Elecricity office) to make trouble because 15 year old vehicles have to be re-registered.
Must be something to do with Martin’s karma, but it all went smoothly… relatively. An initial two visits to the RTO produced two forms (without instructions) and some vague verbal procedural directions. He completed Form 25 (making only two errors) but was flummoxed by most questions on Form 1; it didn’t seem to be at all relevant. Armed with all possible documents and rubber stamps, he returned and presented. He was told that he needed another document (the six monthly PUC), that a pencil rubbing of Hari’s chassis number be glued (not stapled) to Form 25, an NPP certificate (No Prosecution Pending) and to pay a Green Tax; the last two at another RTO office in a different area of Margao.
The PUC (Pollution Under Control) was obtained although the testing machine did not appear to be working, the reading of Hari’s exhaust registering the same as fresh air.
At the second office he had to buy a ‘Green tax’ form. This turned out to be the same as Form 1 and had absolutely no reference to the said tax. Having struggled to fill it in, he went for help to another clerk who scribbled out all Martin’s efforts and just wrote Green tax on the form. Then it was on to ‘No Prosecution Pending’ clerk. With only a cursory glance,he just rubber-stamped it. Job done. Now return to Office 1.
To cut it short, three different officials checked that he had paid the Green Tax, two of them twice. The next instructions were to return in four days to collect the paperwork. ‘Then is finished? No more visits?’ said Martin in best pidgin English. Lots of head shaking followed… this means yes.
Four days later Martin arrived to be told that he couldn’t collect the papers, he should have turned up before 12. Three days later he turned up before 12 to be told to come back at 2.30. Nothing doing, Martin had patients… but he was told that the 2.30 presentation was for a vehicle inspection. ‘What inspector inspecting?’, says Martin. ‘Me, not knowing’ was the answer. Nobody else knew and the Assistant Vehicle Inspector wouldn’t tell him.
Eventually the inspection took place, such as it was. One look at the chassis number and job done. Others who were being inspected were getting a right going over, so God knows what Martin got right. Probably paying the Green Tax was the trick. An officialised bribe maybe? Who knows, nothing is what it seems here.

Papers to be collected on Xmas Eve, God willing.

It’s fine time again

No overtaking ?

Returning from a day’s labour in Patnem we were riding over the world’s longest bridge over the shortest distance two minutes from home, when the traffic cops waved us over. We have got used to them stopping us for a chat but this seemed a strange place to do it, mainly because it blocks half of the narrow carriageway. Cursing himself for not renewing the needful six monthly PUC (Pollution under control certificate) Martin prepared for a paperwork inspection when he realised that a chat was not the idea of the flagging down. The cop didn’t ask for papers however. As a bus nearly took us all out while it overtook a slow-moving rickshaw, he was accused of overtaking… which he had. He’d also been overtaken and it is a regular occurence on the bridge. Not that we’d noticed before but there are apparently 20 No Overtaking signs on the bridge!

The fine was Rs 600/- , commuted to 100/- presumably because the cop was feeling good today!

A fellow motorcyclist was also stopped at the same time for overtaking, but he didn’t get paperwork and he only paid Rs 50/-. There wasn’t a hope in hell of them stopping anything larger than a 2-wheeler because they would have blocked the only road from the south into Margao.

Two days later we were stopped again, this time ostensibly for a chat but under pressure to buy a flag for Army Day, which had occurred about a week ago. Rs 100/-, please. No way! He was more than pleased with 50/-. And now we hoped to be left alone for another couple of years.

Russian Roulette

A local high profile politician has been accused of rape by a Russian woman, reported to be a ‘agent’ for a 5 star hotel. As usual the reporting in various papers varies wildly according to which party they contolled by, so we rely mostly on The Times of India that is a national paper producing a Goan version.

The police, as usual, appear to have immediately muddied the waters by not requesting a ‘rape’ test and trying to persuade the woman to file a molestation complaint instead of rape. In fairly short order they handed the case over to the Criminal Investagation Authority, no doubt losing some paperwork in the process.

The politician seems to be extricating himself by claiming it’s a set-up by his enemies and getting support from high ranking friends. We’re pretty certain that the case will sink quite rapidly to make the occasional appearance over the next few years before being well and truly forgotten.

One day, but probably not in foreseeable future, a politician here will get prosecuted for crime. They probably get an adrenalin rush from playing Russian Roulette with their political lives.

Sunday Lunch

Palacio do Deao

We have (or rather Alison has) discovered a restaurant a bit different from the rest… not that we are bored with eating out, India must be the best place in the world to eat out regularly, nearly everywhere is better than good!

This restaurant is about 15k south of Margao in a village which built itself round the house, built two hundred years ago by a high ranking churchman spreading the Christian doctrine in Goa. He named it Palacio do Deao. It is a splendid example of Hindu-Portugese architecture and has been sympathetically restored by the current owners, down to oyster shell windows and authentic furniture. So it is just like stepping back in time, with only a few modern touches. Even the recipes are drawn from the era. Unlike most restaurnts here it is an oasis of calm, surrounded by beautiful gardens

A refreshing change from the beach shacks and restaurants geared for the tourists and the busy local restaurants. We shared lunch with Jeff and Helen from Dorset, who are holidaying here. We hope they enjoyed their train trip which they were planning.

It’s that ‘iffy’ time of year again

Films are big in India

It’s towards the end of November, the time of year when anyone of a sane disposition stays away from Goa’s state capital, Panjim. Why? Because it’s IFFI – the International Film Festival of India. We’re not sure how many years Goa has hosted India’s premier film festival, but every time it’s the same old story. Politicians mouth platitudes about how Goa is ‘a premier destination’ for film makers, but all around chaos ensues.

The opening ceremony, due to start at 5pm, doesn’t start until 5.45 – which is just as well as some guests were still wandering in after 6pm
Mobile phones were supposedly banned from the auditorium for the ceremony, however not only did guests enter with phones they continued to use them. Bags are not allowed in, but most women carried their handbags. Children under 18 were not allowed into the ceremony, yet people took toddlers and babies in.

The guest speaker had to tell the photographers to shut up because they were bickering loudly while he was speaking. Despite a supposed limit on ticket numbers to keep it within the seating capacity for the auditorium, many people had to stand.

And that’s just the opening ceremony – the real fun begins when the overbooking of screenings becomes apparent. The critics and people involved in films cannot get in but some politician’s cousin three times removed will get front row seats for themselves and their entourage.

If all this seems a bit petty, think of the security implications of a ticketing system that’s out of control at a public event, and allowing a ban on mobile phones to be routinely abused. And this for an event that takes place every year, so there’s no excuse to keep making a mess of it. And all this when the Goa is in a ‘high state of alert’.

If a major national annual event can get stuffed up, what price the Commonwealth Games?

Temperature plummets

Cyclone coming

The edge of a cyclone centred about 250 miles out to sea has clipped Goa… and in some ways it’s been very welcome too. We are sorry that it’s moving steadily northwards away from us. Apart from the temperature plummeting to 25c and staying quite low, we had tropical downpours to match the worst that monsoon throws at us and gusting winds, not a patch on a good gale coming in from the Atlantic, but exciting enough.

We were aware that something was afoot on Sunday when we’d decided to ride the Bullet out into the countryside; it started to drizzle steadily, unheard of in November. It was a great day out away from the city and exploring an isolated village that has changed little over the centuries and dining in a 200 year old restored Portugese house. The menu was also 200 years old, which interesting as food preparation has not changed that much in Goa. After lunch we biked to the “Moon” temple on top of a remote 1000ft hill. There has been a temple here for 1500 years and the visit was quite atmospheric. We’re tempted to go up there for a full moon festival.

The downside of the storm is that (as usual) power supplies were interrupted, traffic was disrupted and it made for a good excuse for the market traders to hike the price of fresh produce.

Dindi

After two weeks the Divali Festival of lights is beginning to dim, but that doesn’t mean to say that festival season is on the wane. This full moon heralds a Margao only festival which covers two days. It has disturbed us in previous years but we haven’t bothered to find out what it’s all about. That’s changed this year. We promised that if we were woken we’d get up and go have a look.
Sure enough at 1.30 in the morning Martin was woken by music about 250 yards away in the town square. Alison was able to sleep through.
The show was worth the effort. Top traditional Indian musicians from Bombay were in full flow, flower arrangements made from fruit, coloured flour pavement ‘paintings and beautifully crafted lanterns were on display. This was all topped off with a 2.00am 15 minute firework display. Not so good if you’re trying to get some kip.
This was the 100th Dindi festival which started after someone toted a photograph of a popular god around town in 1909 following the cessation of a plague that had struck the town. Apparently numbers were down this year due to the recent bomb. There seemed to be at least one policeman for every 5 spectators. There were even four rickety bamboo towers from which a couple of policemen observed the goings on. They looked to be the most at risk from death or serious injury.

Goa Cultural Extravaganza and Afternoon Outing

With much anticipation did 30 males from eight different countries, currently working in India, Martin included, get together last Saturday at noon in a seaside bar and restaurant for the opening round of Goa Cultural Extravaganza and Afternoon Outing aka Goa Pub Crawl 2009. Last year’s event was a resounding success and so it turned out was this year’s.

We visited 9 pubs during the course of the day and unlike last year only two were on the beaches of Goa. In between pubs there was a cold box stocked beer and feni to ensure we didn’t go thisty.

Greg (chief organiser) divided us into two teams complete with team colours. Highlights included: two villages rarely visited by tourists. It was like stepping back in time, if not to the middle ages but at least 150 years by UK standards: an excellent lunch in a bar with seating for 8; the rescue of a pretty girl from the clutches of Goan slave traders (see photo); a river cruise on a sea-going trawler, which ran aground; a boat race; a football match with villagers; a penalty shoot-out; bingo; a Goan ‘brass’ band; two first rate drinking and dining venues with a (horrible) singing competition; and finally a swim.

Martin’s Red team was comprehensively beaten by the Greens… but some of the ref’s rulings were highly questionable and the consensus (in the Red team) was that palms had been greased, this being India. We will admit to defeat in the singing contest, we were truly terrible, whereas the Greens seemed to benefit from a famous Welsh tenor with organisational talents, to boot.
Our last port of call was at the delightful Vivenda Do Palcahos – House of the Clowns…… how apt to finish there.

Goan government moves to stop racial bias

Beach shacks

The title initially raised our hopes that the racial bias referred to was against us ‘whiteskins’, but it turned out that some shack owners are biased against their own race. So there is now a clause in their contracts that states they cannot bar Indians and Goans from their shacks.
We suspect the reasons for the bias are i) foreign holiday makers have more respect for the workers ii) they tip better iii) they order more meals iv) they behave in a manner that is perceived as better than the indiginous population.
The new ruling will of course not address the matter, but it will make it easier for warring shack ‘owners’ to settle old scores and make mischief for competitors.