Goa!!!

Goa, is such an amazing place. Home to a unique culture, tons of beaches, and beautiful churches

Getting to Goa in a lot of ways was as interesting as being there. Indian trains have a stigma of being dirty, dangerous and the worst possible way to travel, but I disagree. Yes, compared to pristine western countries, India's trains seem dingy, but so is India. It seems a bit naive to expect trains, the mode of transport for the common people, to diverge greatly from their common environment. I will not pretend that the train did not terrify me upon my first exposure; it smelled awfully of feces and smoke, it seems horribly out of date and remarkably simplistic. But once I found my seat, put down my things and looked around I realized it was actually nice and strangely comfortable. Really, trains are India, both in terms of their cargo and general impression. India is dirty, smelly, and physically different than home, but somehow it has the remarkable ability to welcome and embrace the foreign, like me.  

Among the sensory overload, the train embraced me in the form of a three Parsi senior citizens sitting in our berth. Rarely have I had the pleasure to interact with such kind, open, and easy people. Sarah, Kattie and I talked, eat, and laughed with them for hours without wanting to find our other friends, and enjoyed every minute of it, as I am sure they did. In fact our berth was so interesting that our ACM friends actually came to use instead. By the time we had left the train they declared us as their own children, and insisted that once we returned to Pune we call them for more conversation over chai.

Once there, we immediately followed the advice of one of the old ladies from the train, and tried fenny, the regional alcohol.  That first day was an overload of sunbathing, swimming and general non academic behavior. However the next day we balanced it with a full day of touring Old Goa and the capital, Panaji. To do this we needed a driver. (Hiring drivers in India when traveling for the day is very common) Usually our driver’s cars are decked out in sparkled fabrics on the dashboard and around the windshield with a series of Indian idols sitting right in the middle, possibly also decorated with beads and things. However, Goa has a shocking twist to all this. Instead of Ganpati, or Vishnu on the dash, a squat white, semi-translucent cross emerges from the colorful chaos, and instead of Ashok, his name was Alex.

Traveling in and to Goa was one of the coolest parts of my trip to India so far. I am so happy that in a week and a half I leave for two weeks to travel in North India, including the Himalayas. Sometimes being in this country is like being in a dream.

Love from India