Lazy Days

I think my heart stopped today... due to inactivity. I was on Padnam beach in South Goa, sipping a White Russian with my new Icelandic friend Viddi when, for a brief moment, I think I died. It was kind of scary in an exhilarating kind of way... a relaxation induced brush with death. But I recovered... and am now decided not to repeat the error.

This isn't all strictly true. I don't think I actually died... there was most definitely still brain activity and I think my heart was still beating, just at a ridiculously reduced rate. I am just trying to illustrate the fact that I have relaxed more in the last few days than I think I ever have... though I haven't been purely inactive.

My days, these days are proceeding thus: Get up at 6.30am (bizarre, scary and quite cool side effect since the cessation of the smoking), swim round the big rock in the beautiful sheltered bay which my beach hut overlooks, drink coffee while the sun rises over the palm trees, talk about how amazing everything is with my new friends out here, go running on Palolem beach, avoid the one British alcoholic who at the time of writing has been on a 3 day vodka bender, swim some more, eat lunch, drink beer, swim while the sunsets, eat dinner, drink cocktails, sleep. Am I now suitably hated? Good... I deserve your scorn.

I absolutely understand why people end up staying here for years... it is beautiful and potentially such a tranquil existence out here. Though it is a bit false, a little bit Clapham-on-Sea, I am currently surrounded by a number of ageing Hippies with brand new Macbooks, it is effectively a Western idealised version of hippy heaven constructed, supported and protected by money from corrupt Indian politicians, Russian mafia and drugs. Not all perfect in paradise but I am going to enjoy it for at least a week more.

Like I just said. I deserve your scorn.

Bollywood or Bust

Hey there, yes you have probably guessed it. I am a star. I have set blinding light to the flame that will define my scorching ascent to stardom over the coming months. I have started a journey that will become a legend. I was an extra in a Bollywood movie.

Cool huh?! I arrived in Mumbai on Wednesday morning for my first of two nights before getting the train down to Goa on the Friday. I had literally just got out of the taxi when a guy, amusingly enough called Charlton: 'Casting Agent for Foreign Models', stopped me in the street and asked me if I wanted to be an extra in a Bollywood film. Damn straight!! (My initial reaction, as with any random approach in India is to say 'No thank you, please f#$% off'.... I changed my mind pretty quickly). I couldn't believe it, only one full day in Mumbai and I was filling it by being in a Bollywood film!

The film's called Housefull and is mainly set in London (hence the westerners wanted), it's supposed to be a pretty big release. I and about 40 other westerners were picked up from McDonalds and driven to about an hour out of Mumbai to (I kid you not) Filmistan Studios. There we were summarily told to disrobe and dress ourselves in a range or sublime and ridiculous outfits... the girls were all forced into tiny miniskirts whereas us boys were given a mish mash of early 80s Oxfam rejections (I wondered where all the clothes go that charity shops don't want... now I know). I was allowed to keep my brown linen shirt and forced to add beige chinos, a grey waistcoat and shiny black leather shoes which fitted well but had about two and a half inches extra toe space. I looked like a ridiculous Buster Keaton impersonator.

At about 1 we were called to set, there we were faced with that singular monstrosity that is the Bollywood interpretation of a London club. There was a massive wall of lightbulbs in the shape of the Union Jack, a troup of London lady dancers all dressed like the whores that London girls are and of course the obligatory mix of Indians and Westerners in cocktail dresses and waistcoats... for a moment there I could close my eyes and smell the bacon, it was wonderful.

I'm waffling, sorry, basically the day proceeded, they were shooting a dance scene with the male and female leads, both famous bollywood stars (check the link). They were supported by the aforementioned scantily clad uk local dancers (mostly aussie girls working in Mumbai on 6 month contracts) who were in turn supported by us in the background. There were lots of takes with no one shot taking more than 15-20 seconds.... all we really had to do was dance. I made the bright move of partnering myself with a beautiful tall blonde Canadian girl who I am hoping a) eclipsed my terrible dancing and b) I think guaranteed me at least a couple of seconds screen time (Catherine, if you are reading this, your dance moves still haunt me!)

We danced and danced and danced till 9pm when we were finally released... I loved every minute of it... probably the most fun I've had so far this trip, and we got paid for it! 500rs, equivalent to one nights accomodation, thank you Bollywood! I was really sad to leave Mumbai and I will most definately return, it seemed, in the short time that I was there, to be a really cool place and I felt far more at home there than anywhere else that I have been in India so far... that said I have just arrived in Palolem, Goa and am staying in a little hut overlooking a beautiful quiet bay... I think I may have found another home away from home... I'll post soon with more details aimed at making you hate me x

Baby's Day Out

Well not quite, he's 17 I think... but on Sunday I was volunteered to take the grandson of the family out for the day... fully at my own expense... it was a lovely gesture for them to express through me and my wallet. I was touched.

I didn't really mind, I like the boy, Manoj... he has a nice full face smile and has been very helpful in the hotel for the last few weeks. We got in the taxi at 7am sharp and set off to Kumbalghar Fort around two and a half hours drive away. At this point I have to take a moment to describe the driving in India, never before in my life have I experienced such a puerile, reckless, unempathetic and downright selfish subspecies of humanity that can compare to the Indian driver... and as I have seen no women behind the wheel I have to assume this refers only to men. Without exception, when an Indian man gets behind the wheel of a car they automatically turn into a 14 year with a new racing game... that is an incredibly stupid 14 year old.... on no level can their driving be defended... they overtake on the inside on normal roads... overtaking on blind bends at high speed seems the preferred overtaking point (preferably on a rocky mountain road... that's the jackpot).... if they miss their turning, not to worry, just pull a u turn and drive full speed the wrong way... and it seems the speed limit holds whether your driving on the correct side of the road or not (and you are well within your rights to hoot furiously at any oncoming traffic)... chicken seems to be a common pursuit with the losing driver having too brake violently and eat gravel (this happened at least 14 times in this day)... they are (and sorry if you are offended) fucking morons behind the wheel... it would be hilarious if it wasn't so fricking dangerous. Anyhows, Kumbalghar was pretty and big and fort-like (see the photos in following link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/72157623313916455/).

Next, via some equally ridiculous driving (I literally, and I am not joking, wished for us to crash head on with countless vehicles in order to teach both our driver and theirs a valuable lesson.. and this has nothing to do with the fact that I've quit smoking... honest!), we made it to Ranakpur, a stunning Jain Temple... many hundreds of years old (I did my reading up on this one) carved out of one piece of marble (that's a lie), it has no walls... just marble columns (that's true) and was pretty stunning, and very temple like... again see photos in following link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/72157623313913803/).

So that was Sunday, this is Monday and tomorrow is Tuesday... which is my departure day. Cannot wait, I'll be arriving in Mumbai on Wednesday morning... this'll be the start of part two of my travels I think...

Wedding Photos

The wedding photos are finally up: (not great but a couple of nice ones...)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/

Do The D.A.N.C.E.

I've had a pretty nice few days since the wedding... On Tuesday I was on my second working day with no work to keep me occupied.. it's been a little frustrating and was feeling a little lonely for other reasons so decided to go for a walk through town.

As I was walking along I recognised a familiar frame peering through a shop window. It was Alfie from Agra. I had been told that you end up bumping into people on your way round India but I still found it strange that in a country of over 1 billion it actually happens. Anyhows, it was a pleasant surprise, especially as we had both tried and failed to contact each other since Agra and were both under the impression that the other did not want to meet up. Seems that the cosmos saw it p to right that wrong.

Alfie was travelling with a group of Italians from the Veneto region which was nice, I had a chance to practice a little of my Italian with them. I spoke to Pasqualino quite a lot, a lovely guy in his early fifties who had been coming to India for the last 7 or so years to compliment his new found respect of his body and mind... he told me of his hedonistic days of vice and 'sin' and of his new life and quest for peace... I've been getting really annoyed with the hippies out here, Ellen and Duncan described them as the 'Namaste Crowd'. That is those people who walk around putting their palms together in thoughtless piety and greeting everyone, English-speaking or not with 'Namaste'. They also dress like no Indian would dream of... are likely searching for their spiritual centre and love the environment (despite having had to fly and pollute for over 4,ooo miles for the pleasure)... they also seem to be the least friendly of people out here, I get the impression that greeting westerners (they rarely seem to) will sully their journey... 'cliquey' doesn't get close. That said, I really liked Pasqualino, he was a lovely guy who in the short time we spoke left me feeling really positive... a short but sweet encounter.

(Also, going back to the Namaste crowd, I have had conversations with a few Indians now, old and young, men and women, who have told me they always reciprocate the solemn 'namastes' of the 'Namaste Crowd' but generally WET themselves once they have walked by... this in a cynical way, makes me smile:)

I had coffee with Alfie and the Italian group that he was tagging along with... I left them prematurely to go to a 'traditional' folk dance performance... which I loved... it was kind of cheesy and there is no way of knowing whether or not the performances were authentic or watered down for a western palate... but it was great... head-juggling-puppetry, vibrant swirling dresses, headspinning-pot-balancing wonder...cymbal-flicking... it had the lot. I took videos which I think came out well, however I have yet to find Internet connection that can upload them but I did find some links of the same performances on Youtube here and here.

Will stop writing now... It was nice to see Alfie before he goes back and to have had the chance to clear up the confusion... and also nice to practice some Italian. Now I have work finally to do having attended a training day for the tribal women supported by Seva Mandir yesterday, I am now off for the second day. Will keep you posted!

My First Indian Wedding

So, back to the descriptive stuff.

I awoke on Sunday morning to a knock at my door at around 7am. Unusual in the two or three weeks that I've been staying at my hotel. I was greeted by the owner of the hotel who, whilst flapping his arms around at me telling me to get ready quickly and to come downstairs as it was his granddaughter's wedding. Kind of shocked, and still blurry I agreed to be down in five... on closing the door I realised something terrible... I had nothing to wear!!! Literally though... the Indians, I had seen from various processions, do dress up well... I had a pair of jeans, battered puma trainers and my Tesco's own brand jumper as my smart casual wear... it had to do.

I got ready quick, headed downstairs and was immediately ushered onto a waiting moped ridden by one of the squillion family members I was to be introduced to over the following 14 hours... we screamed through traffic to what I was expecting to be an event in full flow... all the rushing and that. Instead we arrived at a court yard getting primed for the main event (it still looked a long way off...). Despite all the rushing I still had to sit around waiting for a couple of hours... unsure of what was going on, whether I was in the right place or anything... eventually the grandfather from the groom's side took me under his wing and explained to me in his broken English of what was going on...

The first part began when about one hundred women in a rainbow of wedding saris arrived at the entrance to the courtyard... they were singing and joking and dancing for a long time at the entrance... I'm not sure what this all meant... but it looked pretty cool. They then came to the back of the courtyard where they all sat around the dowry which had been spread out along the floor... silks and jewellery and gold and the like... all the way I imagined it to be... there the father of the bride offered the women from the groom's side.. the dowry and they accepted with great merriment... it all seemed good natured and the many of the women from one side of the wedding seemed to be good friends with those on the other which was nice. This event was followed by a lovely lunch time feast... all vegetarian I might add with a not of disappointment... but lovely all the same.

That was part one... part two I was told would be happening at 7.30pm in the same place... so I returned to my hotel... exhausted but ready for part two. I again was rushed out of my room at 7 (pm this time) onto a scooter and then straight into the middle of the Baraat, the groom's procession through the streets... he was riding a white decorated horse... surrounded by his friends and family with a band of drummers and trumpeters... lots of dancing... lots of fireworks... lots of stopping and starting and stopping and confusion and fun... it was an assault on my still sensitive senses... but great. I then peeled off the crowd with the brother of the bride around the corner where I first caught a glimpse of her.. she was absolutely stunning, sitting in a horse drawn carriage surrounded by her girlfriends... all wearing amazing saris... it was quite a sight. We followed her to the same courtyard of the dowry ceremony... where I was stunned at the number of people. There had been at most 200 people at the lunch... there were well over a thousand at this event.

The bride met the groom to great cheering and dancing and fireworks and music... the fireworks in India, I have to say, scar the hell out of me as the explode about 15 metres off the ground.... as these did, setting light to the roof of the kitchen and providing some unplanned excitement... no one was hurt mind. The bride and groom then took up their seats.. together... where they remained for about 4 hours... not moving... smiling resolutely throughout the thousand upon thousands of camera flashes that were put their way. Whilst this was going on I sampled a lot of food which was being provided on the 30 or so stalls dotted around. Avoiding the accusatory stares of those who thought I had invited myself from off the street (I was the only westerner there and hardly dressed for the occasion!) I managed to speak to lots of the guests... many of them family from both sides... all lovely and thrilled at the event... so happy the lot of them.

I stayed for the exchanging of the Varmala... the wedding garland, between bride and groom... again fireworks and cheers accompanied the event... and then slowly... into the evening... the guests began to make their way and by 11 o'clock there were around 50 or so close family and friends. I had been told by more than one of these that I should stay for the real wedding.. the Saat Phere or Seven Vows.... however by this time I began to feel that I was imposing on what was a precious event for the family... especially on the bride's side who were effectively saying goodbye to their daughter... their sister as a member of their family... forever.

And so it was I left my first Indian wedding. It was beautiful and colourful and without question my happiest day in India so far. I expected to be far more conflicted about it than I was... in the end I just let the celebrations take me... and I don't regret it. I hope it is not my last...

PS Photos will be up soon... don't laugh too hard at the one I've put up here!!!!!

....at the following link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/

I am in love with a dog called Roxy.... it'll never work though :(

One Month On...

So, it's been a month in India... my delay in posting has mainly been due to the fact that I was getting tired of describing things that I had done so I will keep the descriptions for another time... instead I have decided to write down some reflections that have struck me so far in this epic corner of the world.

• The way people move their heads in a sort of circular motion, accompanied by an ambiguous twisting hand gesture when you ask them a yes or no question is as endearing as it is frustrating.

• Temple visits on Monday seem to be a great excuse for the men to go out and get stoned off their tits.

• Women frequently ride side saddle on motorbikes with their saris flowing perilously behind.

• A child's smile out here will brighten up even your darkest mood.

• Bryan Adams and the Vengaboys are very popular in India.

• Eventually you will find the bus driver who sits on his ridiculously load horn at 2am outside your window a familiar pleasure.

• An act of kindness by a stranger invariably eclipses the twenty or so underhand and moneygrabbing encounters that went before.

• There are a ridiculous number of men standing idle in the streets out here, unemployment is a massive problem.

• Cows are patient animals, we could learn a lot from them.

That's about it so far... of course there's more, much more, all the things that I've thought and forgotten and absorbed without realising, they're in my head somewhere... swirling around, responsible for the slightly confused and disorientated awe in which I hold this place. I'll keep trying to get them down in writing, I'll keep failing to do them justice... I think that this will be at least one of the constants that keeps me going for the next month...

...and the one after that...

...and, I hope, the one after that.