India. We live here now. For awhile longer anyway. It wasn’t part of the plan but South Goa, Patnem and this lazy idyllic beach dwelling existence sucked us all in.
Goa is India-lite for sure. The boys quickly made friends here and asked to try school on again for awhile, so here we are until March when we’ll become itinerant once more. The beautiful staff tell us the boys (all three, Tom insisted on attending the onsite preschool) fit in so well it’s hard to believe it’s only the third week, ‘wild and fun but always respectful (really?) and a joy to have around’. What praise. This is looking like the best thing we could have done for us all.
We’re currently living this surreal existence where now we start each day squeezing our five bodies onto two scooters. Always nervously (Alissa) we navigate brand new sealed highways, potholed roads and dodgy dirt paths as we weave our way around various water buffalo complete with egrets, the ubiquitous Indian cows roaming free, stray dogs, plus of course try to keep out the way of the many motorcycles, cars and the brightly decorated, as if for some highway parade, Rajasthani trucks that barrel along as we make our way to school. Actually after everywhere else we’ve been in India the roads mostly feel empty thankfully.
Every afternoon is spent on our adopted beach watching the sun dip below the horizon floating in the warm water, while the boys play on the beach and in the water in amongst one big gang of beautiful likeminded kids.
Road rules here appear to be optional, one way signs just a guideline and the Goan police stop those without helmets to issue ‘fines’ in order to supplement their wages. We wear our helmets. No fines as yet. No photos of course of these wonders that have become just another part of our daily routine, of the roadside stand selling live chickens encaged in the shop counter. The ladies dressed in beautiful bright saris walking alongside the highway in somewhat horrendous temperatures with expertly balanced loads on their heads, as of course my priority on these journeys is protecting my own cargo. the little one who stands in front and likes to try out the buttons at inopportune times, and the bigger one on the back, who knows not to wiggle too much and throw his weight around. The biggest one rides with Mark, too big and unwieldy for me to carry on longer journeys and still somewhat too reckless (and uninsured) to be put in control of one of these at 15.
Have you met the other New Zealanders we were asked repeatedly. Not many of us here of course as Kiwis seeking palm trees, coconuts and warm seas can head to the Pacific for those much closer to home. So finally we do and in true New Zealand two degrees of separation style it turns out their best friend’s children attend the same primary school we’ve just left and their daughter was even in Nate’s hockey team back at home. Of course. Around here it’s predominantly British & Israeli families, with a handful of Russian, Swedish, German and Polish. Add in a few domestic tourists, some Americans and Australians. We hear Hebrew and Russian more often than Hindi most days, with menus written in English and often the Cyrillic alphabet.
Everyday I can’t help but question the privilege that sees us come and experience their country like this while so many locals spend their life in hard labour and servitude. Entire families breaking rocks in work gangs or mixing concrete by hand on the side of the road, labour is the cheapest commodity going. Beach hawkers bus three hours + return each day to ply their goods to the grossly reduced numbers of beachgoers since the collapse of Thomas Cook, peaceful for us, devastating for those whose livelihood depend on the numbers. They dress in full sari and walk back and forth under the baking sun and 35 degree temperatures for 7 hours straight, as our children tear around on the beach arriving home to their own families after dark each night. I can’t reconcile it. No answers, many questions. 1.37 billion bodies live here. The boys absorb it all.
Mostly we live temporarily in our bubble. Our Indian experience will live on in our dreams.
SO MUCH still to come with updates of our travels in Rajasthan, Amritsar, the Wagah border, Varanasi & Agra – We’re working on it x
So fabulous to read of your adventures, Alissa. What an incredible experience for you all. Xx
Hung on every word!