Leaving behind a brand new nest in London, I am shifting once again to a less luxurious one, but in a warmer climate for sure. The commodities of a power shower, running hot water and a quick-boil kettle are far away, but I'm happy to actually have clean running water, a kettle that works -slowly- and a cosy little Portuguese-Goan house to my own. There is even a lady living in the garden (kind of) and a cleaning lady who makes it all look pretty and neat once a week.
So I may have rats nesting in my roof (i noticed droppings and pitter patter on the tiles now and then) but then my office in London hosted a whole family of rodents too (again, droppings on computer desks, nibbled fruit bars and dead mice on the floor were clues).
I like Goa. It's not India and yet it's in the same continent. Goa is a bit of a sub-culture, a social experiment and strange mix of lost souls (mostly foreign), long term hippies (who haven't changed clothes since the 60s... fashion doesn't change that much anyway), yoga fanatics, soul searchers, therapy seekers, beach lovers, Russian tourists on a trip of a lifetime and Indian tourists on their Ibiza style vacation. It's also motorbike heaven, fashion heaven, party heaven and it just feels like a place where people meet and reinvent themselves. Until the season ends again, monsoon breaks and it becomes time to move on again.
Right now, things are still fresh, the last of the monsoon rains seem to have stopped, and houses, clothes, shops are finally drying out. The gardens are still lush and green but will soon require daily watering to survive. This is life under the tropics - seasonal, unpredictable and yet loveable.
Oh and yes, I am here for a few more months, working, teaching, practicing, writing and organising - things I tend to do well.
There will be more updates soon, but for now I need to put my mosquito net up, eat some papaya fruit and consider a refreshing cold shower.
