Party Night in Goa
It’s Saturday night at Palolem Beach. If you define paradise as beautiful, long sandy beaches, 50 meters to bath-warm water with frequent tumbling waves, a plethora of restaurants at which to eat succulent fish, beach huts with beds and a shanti shanti attitude with few tourists as the season is about to close, perfect sun and a ridiculously fantastic adventure novel to read, then yes, this is absolute paradise. There’s a band playing on the stage of downtown area, we’ll see how long the party lasts. I’ve heard they have a special 24 hour permit. Or else, like every other night, the music will be cut at 11pm. All thanks to a crazy British lady potentially with a drug problem and a young 14 year old who hadn’t cultivated her street sense.
The tragic events that changed the social cycle of Goa happened early this year. Without going into too much detail, a British woman took her 14 year old daughter out of school to tour India. They settled in Goa, fun town, land of beautiful beaches, 24 hour parties, drugs, alcohol and plenty of other ways to get into trouble. For some reason, and again I don’t really know all the details, the mom left her daughter with some sketchy dudes in Goa while she went off to tour the rest of India and the girl ended up quite violated and dead. Because of this story and a few less horrific others, rules have descended on this part of town. Rules tend to have an adverse effect in areas known for extravagant amounts of fun. So now there’s a sound law and a quiet time and I haven’t been solicited even once. I even did a tour through the town on my own just to see who might approach. It didn’t happen.
But tonight, old Goa is showing off. The end of the season, the monsoons are coming, perhaps there is a bash or two left in this beach town. Tomorrow I’m going to kayak to the little island sheltered in the bay and climb to the top of the mountain. And if I wake up early enough, I’ll do some yoga on the beach while listening to the waves crash against the sand.
No Jellyfish Jello
Don’t Get Screwed by Crooked Cabbies and Tourist Scams
On the way from the Mumbai airport to my friend’s apartment, a cabbie tried to convince me that the fixed rate for our journey was 550 rupees.
Granted, I’m just getting off a plane, and my accent rats me out as a brown-skinned yankee without a clue about local prices in Mumbai. I know it, my cabbie knows it- I’m not on home turf. But I’m not going down without a fight.
First I tried to haggle with him.
I said “what!? that’s horribly expensive! I know this route (complete bullshit, I had no idea where I was, or where we were going) and I know it’s never more than 300 rupees”.
In Hindi he said “What? Nobody will go there for 300 rupees! You can’t do anything in this town for 300 rupees, no way. Final offer 500.”
“No deal no deal, that’s way too expensive. Okay, you’re a nice guy, I’ll give you 400, that’s my last offer, no higher than that.”
“No, 500, last price”.
At this point I stopped to think. I have no idea what things cost in and around Mumbai, but I realized that for less than the price he was asking for, I had gotten from Gangtok in Sikkim, all the way across the state of West Bengal to Kolkata. Something just wasn’t right. Even for a crooked cabbie, this had to be an absurd rip off. But without a basic knowledge of the pricing in Mumbai it was impossible for me to know how much was reasonable. So I resolved to ask some locals at our stop how much it should cost to get there from the airport. I told him to hang on, that I was looking for some change.
I got three responses, all under 200 rupees.
“You tried to cheat us!” I shouted. ”You said 550 just because you know we’re not from around here! You’re a CROOK!”
Meanwhile he’s just wobbling his head like an apologetic fool as his taxi cab brothers laugh at him for getting caught red-handed and at me, for making a scene and yelling at him in choppy Hinglish. I tossed him 125 rupees and marched off, triumphant. He grabbed my arm and said I owed him a few more, according to the meter, and since I didn’t want to get into a fight with this guy, (he grabbed me with some vigor) I shelled it out. In total I gave him 180,
I’ve heard of too many westerners getting caught up in scams and crooked deals that, more often than not, begin right outside the airport. A wide-eyed Westerner gets off the plane, ready for all the spiritual enlightenment he can soak up from whatever romantic ambitions he’s laid out for his journey to ultimate truth. He seeks to find himself, to wear flowy cotton kurtas and eat with his hands, to meditate on the merits of polytheism and tantric sex while sitting cross legged on the banks of the Ganges, musing on his newfound oneness with everythingness, communing with dread-locked sadhus while smoking hash mixed with dried cow feces and dead bugs. Oh yeah, these Westerners invent some pretty cute notions for themselves about the spiritual splendors awaiting them in the far far east.
But the second these wide-eyed little rabbits hit the pavement they just get worked over by a pack of jackals, all hungry and salivating. These jackals drive the cabs, offer guided tours, run guest houses that are always full, man innocent looking rickshaws, and send children to beg you for change as they put their hands near their mouths and rub their bellies and squeak in pitiful voices “food! hungry! food!”. These predators know what they’re up against. They’re fully versed in the products of circumstance, and they are not afraid to cold call you face to face, right there on the street. And as these poor rabbits watch their entrails get chewed to bits by a swarm of hungry, bloody mouths, the truth sets them free. So this is India.
You’re in the jungle now you pasty fuck! You better pull yourself together and come to grips with the facts. If you’re not doing the hunting, you’re getting hunted.
So, what can you do to protect yourself from getting screwed?
Don’t believe anyone who advises you NOT to get second opinions. Anyone who says that all the guest houses in Delhi (or whereever) are full is lying to you. Any cabbie who says there’s no meter today, fixed price only, is lying to you. Any tour guide who says that all the trains are booked is lying to you. Don’t take it personally, just know what you’re getting into, there’s a billion people in India and if you’re from the west and have the ability to travel to India in the first place, you have more money at your disposal than 95% of everyone in the country, but without any of street smarts. Always ask someone else for a second opinion, or a third. I’d advise approaching locals and just asking them what they think about this deal, whatever it may be. NEVER get into a cab right out of the airport without having a fixed address and some landmarks that you know are close by to your address. This is crucial. You must know where you’re going from the airport, don’t give them a chance to take you to their crooked guest house operators so they can take a cut from you getting ripped off. Go somewhere specific, anywhere, but don’t just ask a cabbie to take you to a guest house. It’s a recipe for disaster.
I heard this one story about two 19 year old girls, fresh from Canada, who got off the plane in New Delhi in the middle of the night and got into a cab without knowing where they were going. They asked the driver to find them a guest house. He told them to wait in the car as he went in and checked for them at different hotels and hostels, saying that it wasn’t safe for them to be outside at night. Sure enough, the first guest house was full, then the second, then the third, then the fourth, then they realized that of course, all the guest houses/hotels in Delhi are full. They would logically have to go Aggra… Four hours away. Of course, all trains to Aggra were full, so they would naturally need to hire a private car to get them there. This con artist was able to convince these brainless Canadians to buy a cell phone and call him whenever they needed anything. They finally had to escape from this guy on a train, which I am told was not easy, after realizing that they were getting fucked over. This guy would not stop calling them for weeks after their escape, and they could not return to Delhi because they were afraid of being found.
Just be smart you crazy kids, know what you’re getting into. I love India and its people, but I would be careful about harboring any romantic notions that separate this place from the west in character. These people need to make a dime, and they’re going to turn to you cuz you look and sound like a sucker. Be polite, be friendly, but keep your wits and your wallet close at hand.
-Das
The Lepcha be dammed….
When I arrived in Gangtok, my first mission was to find the Hotel Potala, a dingy, poorly-lit mold farm on Tibet road that, though quite disgusting in its tastes and smells, is the only hotel of its kind that offers a hot shower (available occasionally), the treasure of cable television, and a room for up to 3 people for only 300 rupees a night. When I wasn’t walking around the city, I was smoking in my room and watching documentaries about bears on the National Geographic Channel, a real treat after spending so much time in rural areas. (did you know that the asiatic black bear is farmed in china for its bile? look, I’m telling the truth! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bile_bear)
On my way out to the bazaar, I kept seeing this demonstration of strikers, protesting the building of some dams on the Teesta River. Every time I’d walk to and from the hotel, I’d see some Buddhist monks or activists lying on a bed under a plastic tarp, taking strike shifts until the Sikkimese government halted operations on these dams. It was hard to really understand what was going on from their sloppy, hand painted propaganda, but the installation worked. No longer were bears running through my head during my free minutes. I had to know what this dam protest thing was all about, so I started asking questions and picked up some reading material. The more I learned, the more fucked up it got.
The people lying under the plastic tarp are hunger strikers. They’ve eliminated solid food from their diets since June, 2007! At first I found this a little hard to believe, but sure enough, some of these guys have iv’s in their noses, getting liquid nutrients pumped into their bodies to offshoot death from malnutrition for a few more months.
The protesters of this dam project have many faces, but it’s the Lepcha, an indigenous tribe of nature worshippers who were granted protected, “primitive tribe” status by the Indian government, who are making the most noise. They’re the ones leading the hunger strike charge, and the ones who will pay the most if these dams get built. Their cultural, religious, and economic holy land of Dzongu sits right on the Teesta river and the white collars of Gangtok hope to tap this unlimited flow of liquid power to meet the demands of New Delhi’s increasingly unmanageable power ambitions.
According to the Lepcha, these hydropower plants threaten to destroy the ecosystem on which the Lepcha Reserve depends for everything; farming, shelter, drinking water, the revenue from eco-tourism, it’s all going down the drain if the Teesta gets dammed in Dzongu. And aside from the practical problems, there’s also the issue of sacrilege, the Teesta being the Lepcha’s holy river, that ignites more and more anger among the indigents.
It’s a weird spot they’re in. While Lepcha organizers and religious leaders have been trying to raise a big fuss about this whole thing, the Sikkimese government simply approached the actual owners of the properties, who are largely illiterate, sustenance farmers, and offered gifts in exchange for land acquisition. These Lepcha landowners accept the immediate bribes and incentives held out right in front of them by the government, however meager they might be, and question why they would concern themselves with the ambiguous risk of ruin that would happen a whole 20 years from now. The Lepcha who are agreeing to give up their land or relocate stand to lose much more in the long run than they gain from the government incentives. They get persuaded with the immediate gratification from these bribes, but the ones really benefiting from this project are the engineers, politicians, business owners, etc. who are overseeing the project, almost all of whom live in Gangtok and almost none of whom belong to the Lepcha tribe.
I was lucky enough during my stay in Gangtok to spend some time with one of the engineers working on this water project. What a gentleman! He gave me a room for the night in his four story house, let me use his computer and his internet connection, fed me two meals, and let me watch movies on his dvd player, projected onto a white wall in my room. He didn’t express too many strong feelings on the Lepcha problem, he said they were upset because we were building dams on the “Jerusalem of the Lepcha”, and so of course they would be upset. But there’s only two real sources of income for Sikkim as a state, tourism and hydropower. He hopes that they can both have the right of way.
I also had the privelege of spending three nights in restricted Dzongu the last time I was in India. Because I was doing research, I was granted some pretty exclusive (and expensive) access to the Lepcha reserve. I’ve never seen any place so harmoniously in tune with nature. No cars, no plastics, no pavement, no uglniness really, just a lush permaculture farming community that keeps as much greenery around them as possible. Everything looked like it belonged there, and it was hard to tell where houses began and forests ended. Everywhere I walked I could hear the sound of flowing water, and not much else. I’m wondering what this place is going to look like after they bring in all that concrete.
See for yourself.
http://weepingsikkim.blogspot.com/
-Das
