Lost Photos

Well, the inevitable has happened, again. We've lost another 1GB memory card :(

I say inevitable, because considering the thousands of times we've put our cards in readers in hundreds of different internet cafes over the course of the trip, it's pretty good odds in our favor that this is only the second time. I keep telling myself, "They were only beach photos." But that's not really true. They were our best few days of shooting in our entire two weeks in Goa.

Here are some images vividly imprinted in my memory that you'll never see - Darin getting painted blue at a Holi festival dance party (at least we have a blurry one); Videos of dancing party-goers covered in colored powder; Beautiful, Goan-style homes with seashell windows and other unique detailing; Sparkling white, colonial churches set against blue sky + green palms; Outrageous sunset on the beach with purple + white clouds mirrored on the wet sand and Darin and I in the middle of it; Thatched beach shacks at sunset; 360 videos of various beaches from our beach-chair vantage point.

Besides that bit of bad news, what's made it even more disheartening is that we're working with only one camera at the moment - Darin's wonderfully reliable Canon Powershot A620. While I am on my second camera of the trip that has crapped out for completely inexplicable reasons - no dropping, no water, no nothing! (I have taken thousands of photos with the camera, so I guess I can't be too hard on it) Looking online it seems that the light sensor (CCD) is a common point of failure on Casio digicams when in dusty or humid conditions. (Hmmm, that pretty much sounds like my shooting conditions throughout all of Southeast Asia + India. It would be nice if a camera was designed to be dependable in the "real" world.) I've brought it to a repair shop here in Mumbai (Bombay) and am keeping my fingers crossed that they can fix it.

Check the "link" for the photos from Goa we DID manage to save

Goa Chill

Chapora, Goa - March 16

Another late breakfast morning in Goa. It seems to be the natural rhythm of life here. Even the locals here - primarily Christians from the long Portuguese presence to take monopoly of the spice trade, Oops, I mean to Christianize the natives - are way more relaxed than their Hindu counterparts. The women wear short-sleeved shirts and knee-length skirts for God's sake! (no pun intended) The men, even more impressively act like adults in the presence of bikini-clad women - not as adolescent males (regardless of age) who literally plunk themselves down on the sand right next to a woman to ogle. What a refreshing + liberating change! I'm sure this relaxed attitude is due in part to the fact that Goa began attracting groups of hippies + leisure-seekers since the 60's and has had plenty of time to get accustomed to our liberal, randy + rowdy ways. And maybe even more significantly, they've decided to accept it and capitalize on it to improve their standards of living + those of future generations in the process. (Photo: Me at Holi Festival dance party)

Goa is an international beach hot spot and it's fascinating to walk through a scene like Ingo's Night Market and hear such a melting pot of languages spoken. The two most notable - one for it's abundance and the other for it's surprising lack thereof - are the Russians and Israeli's, respectively. We could not believe the number of the former. The groups of slicked-up, beefy men + bright blond, blue-eyed women in skimpy attire + spiky heels was unlike anything we've seen in our 2 years on the road. And how they love to shop! There are lots of other Euro's here too and it's easy to see why - Just look online and you'll find great deals to Mumbai (an overnight bus ride, or short flight, away) from most European capitals, making this a much cheaper alternative to the Costa del Sol. (And even for an American, though the flights aren't cheap, I'd pick this over Cancun orHawaii any day) So while that all makes sense to me, the obvious absence of Israeli's right now is baffling. This is their big scene. Aren't they the ones who gave birth to Goa trance? So what's the deal?! Have they all migrated up to Manali already, or gone home? For that matter, we've hardly seen a one since returning to India this time compared with the numerous + highly apparent groups of them on our previous visit. I guess if I find one I'll ask. (Photo: Beach beds and Ayurvedic massage)

Besides all that, we personally are enjoying the variety of beautiful beaches, warm ocean + perfect temps; our long, lazy drives on narrow roads through scenic countryside dotted with gleaming white churches + quaint villages; spotting langurs leaping through trees + dolphins jumping from the Arabian sea. And yes, I saw the last just the other day. Dolphins playing offshore - nose up, whole body in the air, perfectly silhouetted by the sun, arcing back down and entering the water with a splash. Again and again. (Photo: Low tide at Morjim beach, at high tide the water crashes right at the foot of your bed)



One week later -

The Israeli mystery has now been answered. It seems the government here has found them to be more hassle than their difficult-to-extract tourist dollars are worth. 6-months visas are now only issued once every three years, with no chance of renewal. Ouch! That also explains why so many Russians have moved in to take their place now that their economy is on the rise and people are more flush with cash. Seems Indians would rather take the easy money... and who can blame them.


Two weeks later -

Still here :) God, these beaches are nice! We've explored a big stretch of coastline now and stopped at several of our favorite beaches twice or more. For having been "developed" for 40 years, the impact here is sure minor. Entire Thai islands have been ruined in a period of only 5 years, while in Goa, most all development on the beaches happens at a local level. There are very few places to stay right back from the beach. Most guesthouses are set in small villages, leaving the sand uncluttered but for locally-owned, thatched beach shacks and some wooden beds with shade structures. It's honestly one of the nicest, most varied + interesting beach scenes I've every had the pleasure of enjoying.


Another bonus of Goa, at least for a dance-deprived duo like ourselves, is the party scene. Things have quieted down a bit with the winding down of the season and the law strong-arming a 10:00PM club curfew at the moment, but that doesn't seem to be stopping everyone. We've had a couple energetic boogie-down sessions with friendly, beautiful people and a great vibe continuing all through the night and day.

The Spice Trade

Over the past couple months - particularly on the Malabari coast in Karnataka and now again in Goa - we've visited several cities that figured prominently in the ancient spice trade. The Malabari region in particular was the epicenter for growing + distribution of what became the most highly-traded of spices in the world (until the discovery of the New World with it's sugar, coffee + chocolate) - black pepper.

We've toured a couple different highland growing areas where it's vines still entwine the trunks of trees set within rolling green hills of tea + cardamom bushes. We've also toured the coastal cities of Cochin + Cannanore where the crumbling ruins of Portuguese forts still stand as sore reminders of the ruthless tyranny with which these explorers subjected the populace as they took control of and gained a monopoly on this highly profitable world trade. You can still wander down lanes lined with crumbling villas + warehouses (including that of the later VOC, Dutch trading conglomerate who followed the Portuguese) in testament to the faded glory of this spice empire.

Historically, because they were so exotic and costly, spices were a thing relegated only to Pharaohs, Sultans and Chinese + Roman Emperors. Even before the time of Christ, their simple rarity commanded a hefty premium. But even for most of history, what gave spices their unique appeal was the mystery from where they came. Tantalisingly, here were fragrances + flavors of whose origins men could only fathom. Ignorance bred superstition and wondrous tales were generated of the perils of the trade and the gallantry necessary to overcome them. Over the period of 300 years (15th - 18th centuries), spices lost their mystique and have now been further reduced to being shrink-wrapped and used for display only on the dusty spice racks of the western world. This travesty is the result of the technological advances of maritime trade, subsequent conquering of the seas and the discovery of those distant lands from which these luxuries came. And even more prominently, the greed that followed it. For this luxury that we now take for granted - millions died, continents were discovered, fortunes lost and incalculable wealth spent on their acquisition. Much of the buried treasure that lies under the seas is from ships lost during the peak of the spice trade on their return voyages.

Did you know that the actual "Spice Islands" were the source of only three spices - nutmeg, mace (from nutmeg) + cloves - but that that was the only place in the world where they grew? Did you know that star anise was recently used to create a anti-flu drug for Bird Flu? Did you know cinnamon can be used as an insect repellent? Did you know that black peppercorns were found in the nostrils of Ramses II, used in his mummification? And that studies have shown it's not a sneeze-producer, and that it's only the effect of breathing any fine powder? Did you know nutmeg is one of the secret ingredients in Coca-Cola? Did you know that turmeric is currently being studied for possible benefits with Alzheimer's disease, cancer + liver disorders?

Maybe this is all uninteresting news to you, but for two people who are ruled by their bellies and palates, it's sure been a fun + tasty discovery for us :)

Bom Shiva!

Gokarna, Karnataka - March 6-8


For the past four days we've been watching town grow as pilgrims, holy men + foreigners arrive in droves. Numerous makeshift stalls have been set up lining the main street in town, in addition to the regular array of shops selling are manner of religious icons + offerings, in the build-up to the annual Shivaratri Festival here in Gorkarna. It's a HUGE deal for Hindus and as this is the second holiest Shiva Temple in all of India besides the one in Varanasi - which we visited on a NORMAL day and was a very wild scene - there will be THOUSANDS in attendance for this 3-day spectacle. It's a reverent, carnival-like atmosphere. Which sounds like a contradiction, unless you're in India.

Priests put the finishing touches on small, mobile shrine

An entire village of stalls sets up overnight. Markets go hand-in-hand with festivals in India.

The festival officially begins on Shiva's birthday. The streets are jam packed and half the people are wet and carry stainless jars + plastic bags full of bananas, flowers and other offerings. The lines are long outside the two main temples in town and police men + women mill about to keep the peace. I see a few instances where the police do use their large sticks (called "lathi") quite firmly on skin to make their point. Along a big stretch of the main town road leading between temples + beach, hundreds of poor have set up tattered shade structures and sit on sheets. The pilgrims walk past and pour handfuls of rice onto each ones sheet. Some people toss rupees (coins) too at the bleaker cases - someone crippled by leprosy, a severe birth defect or elderly widows. It's a real reality check for me just how lucky I am just to be healthy.

Holy men, the poor, the crippled + the widowed line the streets begging for money

The narrow streets are thronged from dawn 'til late with pilgrims heading too and from temples and other rituals.

For a non-Hindu, much of the meaning behind Indian festivals + poojas (ceremonies) is vague. Sure, it's Shiva's birthday today, but what are these people really worshiping? Here was my experience...

I slipped off my shoes at the temple gates, leaving them in a pile with the rest. The stone slab floor was now cool beneath my feet as the sun had set several hours ago. In the dimly lit courtyard sat brahmins preparing platters of know-know-what and mixing concoctions in bronze pitchers (I saw banana, grass, herbs, milk + water going in). There were numerous small fires burning. All the while people prayed and chanted. The line of pilgrims pushed forward expectedly, each holding their own steel pitcher filled with water. Once in the sanctum, the air was hot and humid with the warmth of bodies. We each squeezed through a narrow doorway, guarded by police to keep people in order and prevent anyone from getting crushed in the fervor. The inner sanctum was sweltering, it's walls + ceiling pitch black from the hundreds? of years of burning butter lamps. People surged to the center of the chamber and fell on their knees. At first I couldn't see anything so I squeezed against the wall, patient, trying to get a glimpse of the mystery. Then I had it. Everyone was shoving fistfulls of leafy offerings + grass into a hole on the floor and pouring their pitcher of water over top. Only three hands could fit at a time and people aggresively rammed theirs in. The water ran off the edge of a spout out towards my feet and I ended up standing in a puddle of muck by the time I squeezed out of there, as clueless as when I had entered. What the f***?!

This bit I found online clarifies things a LITTLE...

Mahabaleshwar Temple, one of the seven Muktisthala shrines in Karnataka, is located at Gokarna in Uttara Kannada District. The Atmalinga of this temple attracts thousands of devotees. It is a huge shivling, which according to myth, got rooted here when lord Ganesh set it down on the ground. The atmalinga was granted as a boon to Ravana by Lord Shiva, which would make him all powerful. The gods who were terrified at this, approached Lord Ganesh to save them. Lord Ganesh managed to secure the atmalinga from Ravana and cleverly put it on the ground where it got fixed and could not be pulled out. The pull exerted by Ravana, is said to have caused the shivling to resemble the shape of a cow's ear and hence the name Gokarna (cow's ear). A golden rekha on the peetham, and a small hole in its middle permits devotees to have a glimpse of the top of the Aatma Lingam. The six foot tall shivling can be seen only once in 40 years, when the Ashtabandhana Kumbhabhishekam is performed. Before entering the temple, devotees usually have a bath in the sea and worship a shivling made out of sand.

Pilgrims pass offering stalls as they head barefoot to the beach for a holy dip

Pilgrims bathe in the Sea (clothes and all for the ladies) before entering the Temple

Pilgrims wait in line for their turn to make an offering to Lord Shiva at one of the temples

Men wash giant "Car" in preparation for the big pull

On the final day, a big influx of foreigners appears in town - everyone's dragged themselves away from the beaches (and quite lovely ones I might add) for the big event. In the absolute hottest part of the afternoon, people mill about under the towering "Car". Dozens of men walk around selling bananas to the willing male audience who test their strength launching the bananas at the "Car". No one seems to know WHY it's symbolic to throw them, but everyone loves the challenge. When the Brahmin (priests) begin making their way up the ladder into the Car to give offerings, their backsides become the new target for awhile to much accompanied laughter. This seems to drag on in the heat and I'm beginning to consider finding a seat somewhere when, without further ado, the ladder is dropped and the Car is MOVING! It's barreling right down on us too and we quickly squeeze back to let it pass by without getting trampled by the line of men that pull the thick, hemp ropes

Men decorate the "Car". Note that they are standing in front of the wheels.

The Car passes and the crowd moves in right behind it, following it down the street. The pace is quicker than we expected considering the massive size of the thing, and the human power. People cheer and a slew of yellow missiles attacks it from all sides. We meet up with our travelers we know. Everyone's in a good mood and we make jokes about bananas + Shiva lingams... wondering just what the Indian fascination is with phallus'. Again, it's one of those moments that happen Only in India and I again feel so fortunate to be here in this place. Right here. Right now.

Man selling bananas to throw at the "Car"

The massive "Car" and crowd during the pull down the main street of Gokarna

Check the "link" for more Photos from Shivaratri

Bus Ride - Badami to Gokarna

There are only a dozen passengers on board when we make our 8:00AM departure from the small station in Badami. The ticket taker leans out the door, bellowing Hubliubliubliubli! and a cloud of black diesel belches out the tailpipe as we rumble out. The pale morning light caresses the walls of mud-brick homes and the faces of the women that sweep the dirt in front of their homes + shops, lumping garbage into small piles which roving bands of grey, bristled pigs nose through. The city garbage collection crew at work. Men with skin the color of chocolate wear striking all-white Nehru-style outfits - white hat, dhoti + kurta - and sit on doorsteps reading the Hindustan Times.

The bus bumps over the uneven one-lane highway, frequently dodging to the left to avoid oncoming traffic. The driver blaring the horn all the while. Our bodies all bump and sway in rhythm like ragdolls. We pass fields of luminous, golden sunflowers and women carrying jugs of water on their heads or hips walking barefoot down the road. We dodge a wooden-wheeled cart stuffed with women and children, pulled by a small, plumed horse. Another field of sunflowers looks a bit forlorn, their heads dry and sagging. There are many small, dusty towns with dirt-paved bus stations whose names I do not know for lack of English-language signs. The people stare and point at us. Our fellow passengers chatter or sleep somehow. A child sings and one young man listens to Indian pop on his mobile. Unbelievably long-horned cows blink at our bus passing as they chew hay.

We stop for chai and the bus fills. A woman with a full-length, black burka with only her eyes showing boards, as does an old man sporting a vibrant yellow turban. Moving again, the highway widens to two-lanes, but we still swerve to pass goat herders, tractors and other slow-moving vehicles. Women in saris are but colored dots in bleached fields of corn and grain. A patch of road work is indicated by thorny branches laid across one lane and we bump + jostle even more for the next few kilometers. Antiquated equipment sits in the road and men in t-shirts, lungi (sarong) + flip-flops hoe dirt while women carry woven baskets of rubble on their heads. A typical Indian roadwork crew. Their gypsies camp of tarps is nearby.

At 11:15AM we roll into the Hubli bus stand and 5 min. later, with two newspaper-wrapped packages of steamed rice idli in hand we're on our second bus of the day to our next stop - Ankola. We make several stops at bus stands along the way. At one, vendors pile on too selling a selection of cold drinks, oranges, cashews, gold necklaces, dates, ice cream + multi-colored plastic bangles. Our driver steps out into the sun to enjoy his frozen mango bar.

After this, the highway improves and we make good time, though by this point I'm beginning to feel hot, cramped + bored. The landscape changes from farmland to forest as we descend from the Deccan plateau down through the Western Ghats. Out of the blue, we're stuck in a solid jam of transport vehicles that seems to go on and on It's outrageously hot and dusty and the only thing that seems logical to keep me from going crazy is to use the time to make a photo study of the pile-up. Thus distracted, the next hour and a half of inching along went fairly quickly.

At 5:15PM we board our third bus of the day for the final 26km to Gokarna. It's the golden hour and even the dusty, rubbage-strewn roadside stands manage to look charming. The ocean comes into view and we pass boys playing volleyball, then salt evaporation ponds, then the tile-roofed home of the "Inspector of Salt". Only 5 more kilometers to go.

Just as we departed, we rumble into yet another dirt-paved station. We don our packs and shuffle off the bus. We're here - finally. 271km in a little over 10 hours.... Hmmm, by my calculations (excluding stops) that clocks us in at an average of 15 miles per hour! It's my turn to look for rooms while D waits with the packs. I'm hungry and covered in grime. I want to get this over quickly, and fortunately am successful. When I return to the station a pregnant cow stares at D longingly. I make a joke and discover that in a moment of weakness, he too in hunger bought some chips and shared them with her. I laugh out loud. The tedium of the day is lifting already. :)