being human

It’s been a long day; very long.  It starts with a lot of noise and crashing about and dogs barking.  The monkeys are back. (see extras). They cause a bit of mischief - one is chewing through the insulation of the telephone cables.  A mother and baby watch.  Anniemay rushes into the garden and tells them off; “I’m using my teachers’ monkey voice” she says as they leave. “Still got it.”

Then we and Varnika head off to an Arts festival in Panjim (capital of Goa).  It takes about an hour to get there.  I won’t describe the journey in detail - just the usual crazy, noisy, high speed dash. If you’ve seen the opening sequence of The Darjeeling Limited you’ll get the idea.  It takes about an hour.  The taxi driver arranges to pick us up 4 hours later.  

The festival is too big to take in everything - dance, music, artworks, performances ….. we settle for a small taster.  I’m struck by this hand print; it was made about 150 years ago by a woman making roof tiles from the local red soil.  It reminds me of a red hand print we saw in a cave in France.  That was about 25,000 years old.  It’s what makes us human.

By late afternoon, the heat is getting to me - and for once - Anniemay too.  We decide to sit in the park opposite the festival building.  To get there we must cross 6 lanes of traffic.  No pedestrian crossing.  Somehow we make it.

There are more exhibits in the park - and birds.  I can’t identify them, but they’re tuneful and colourful.

The park backs onto the Mandovi river - a vast waterway reaching inland from the Indian Ocean.  Moored in the middle of the river are what look like three large cruise ships. They’re floating casinos. Although lit up, the windows of the ships are opaque - punters can’t see out and those on shore can’t see in. 

We head back across the 6 lanes of traffic to meet up with our taxi.  It’s rush hour.  Or more accurately - slow hour.  It takes nearly 3 hours to make the journey home.

At one point we’re stuck for about half an hour.  We’re in two lanes of cars/lorries, surrounded on all sides by scooters and motorbikes.  It’s the same on the other side of the road.  Nothing to separate us but a white line, which most people ignore.  Traffic is also trying to cross from roads either side of us. A traffic policemen makes his way to the middle of the road, waves his arms around for a bit and then gives up.

We eventually leave the slow lane for another high-speed race through countryside, this time in pitch black.  It’s about 8.00pm and the taxi driver has to get back to Panjim for an 11.00pm pickup. 

Somehow we miss the cattle wandering down the road, the bikes with no lights, the pedestrians with no lights.  By the time we get home the driver looks as exhausted as we are.  I pay him and give him a tip; “take it easy in the dark”.