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Cows Vacation in Goa Too!

Day 10: Coffee Talk in Panjim

Fear Him!

Today we rode into the city to see a movie (Jupiter Rising) with Jessica. It was cancelled for reasons unexplained.

Instead, we went to the market, where I picked up some things for Sarah, had iced coffee at the Panjim Inn, and walked around the area, including a stop at the Church of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception.

Before leaving town, I traded my bike for another one, this time with working lights.

Yes, I will shut up about the cashews now.

Cashews with skins

Papa would always return from Goa with Feni and bags of cashews like these, with the skins still intact. A bit of an acquired taste, the skins add the slightest bitter/sour/nutty flavour that beautifully complements the natural buttery flavour of the nut.

Every time I go to an Indian or asian market back home I check to see if they have any of these nuts, but they never do. My best guess is that they are considered inferior to the peeled raw and roasted nuts that are ubiquitous.

I found them bagged at the local general store, and they're as great as I remember.

Day 9: A Day to Catch Up, and Parks Can Be Sad Too

The Sad Park

On a cool and humid morning, a thick mist lingered outside. As it condensed on the leaves of the trees overhead, water droplets formed into drops. The trees magically rained, the skies sunny, albeit diffused overhead.

After morning tea, I walked to the shops to get a few things, including money from an ATM to pay for them. The neighbourhood general store has a little bit of everything. I brought home:

  • Coke (it has been a while)
  • Maaza (a mango drink with real juice, bottled by Coca-Cola)
  • Cashews with skins
  • Kingfisher Draught Tall-boy
  • Gulab Juman (cake balls in rosewater syrup)
  • Toothpaste, tissues, and other necessities

The ice cream cone didn't make it home.

On the way to and from the shops is what I call The Sad Park. The sign at its entrance, "SCHBS LTD. DEFENSE COLONY CHILDREN'S PARK", is the only part that isn't rusty, broken, or overgrown. You can walk through the rusted gate to get a little shade, or maybe slide down the uncomfortable-looking (yet elaborate) concrete slide, but the teeter-totter decays on the ground next to its pivot.

I can imagine 40 years ago; the screams and cheers of children playing here could be heard throughout the neighbourhood as the sun lowered in the sky.


Day 8: Laundry, Knives, Banks, and Film

Knife man!

Back in Guelph, on a hot summer's day, you may hear the sounds of bells ringing, gaining in volume. It's one of two people, the Dickie Dee (ice cream) boy, or the knife sharpener.

During morning tea we heard the bells and glanced up the street. A young man carried a welded steel frame with a grinding wheel and pedal — he is a knife sharperer. Note I said carried. I felt for the poor guy. If I had my tools with me I'd offer to weld on some wheels to this thing, probably 20kg or more. Ulrike rushed to the kitchen and returned with a handful of knives and an assignment.

Today was laundry day. We had both run out of underthings, and my whole wardrobe was ready for a wash. The little washing machine is the most high-tech device in the house. In the humid weather, the drier (clothes line) on the other hand, took quite a bit longer; so I spent most of the day in underwear.

After days of fighting with the Vodaphone SIM card, I gave in and went to the Vodaphone store. The girl at the desk confirmed that yes, it was weird that I had a signal, yet could not connect, but in a few minutes she diagnosed the problem. Although I had just added a INR 1250 data plan to the SIM, it needed at least 1 rupee on balance in order to connect to the network. Simple, yet absent from the FAQ and every search I tried.

While in the village I tried to withdraw money at the ATMs, having used my last 10 rupees to add to the Vodaphone card. A few days earlier I had pulled INR 10,000 out of an ATM in Bombay without difficulty, but for reason still unknown, it was not so easy here. After an hour and 8 banks, the ATMs read CALL BANK, an indication that my account was locked out.

That wasn't supposed to happen. I had called all of my banks before leaving Canada, ensuring they note the timeframe and destination of my travels. ScotiaBank assured me that if I encountered any problems, I need only call the number on the back of the card collect, and they would accept the charges. After 2 hours of trying I summized that if there was indeed a way of calling Canada from India collect, it was beyond my abilities. I couldn't even figure out the equivalent of dialling 0 to speak to an operator.

GOA Photo FestivalUlrike, her writer-friend Jessica, and I went to the 2015 Goa International Photo Festival. The exhibits included photos of India by Indians, winners of the World Press photojournalism awards, and other international photographers.

Day 7: Kama Calangute

Take Away Sperm

Details to follow.


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