Yvan Rodrigues' problogue

(like a blog, but with less effort)

Disconnected ramblings about software development, iOS, FreeBSD, anti-social networking, kittens, drosophilidae, small business, Android, web services, finches, Windows, electrical engineering, XML, rental cars, rye, or ... FIVE dollars??!... something something beer.

Waking Up Over Tea and Paó

Tea and Paó

We are usually up around 8:00, and Ulrike has introduced me to the ritual of Tea and Paó on the front veranda. The air not cool, but not yet hot, it's the perfect time to wake up, breathe the fresh air, listen to the birds and dogs, and maybe do some planning.

Tea and milk is accompanied by Paó with butter and marmelade.

Paó is a legacy from Portuguese colonization. Baked in a central location during the wee hours in the morning in mud-lined ovens, it is distributed by Paó wallers on bicycle, their horn honking as they wind through the residential laneways. It is the perfect combination of thin chewy crust and soft doughiness.

You soo soo in public once, and the girls never let you live it down.

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.



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