Markets and Beaches and Bikes, oh My!

Driving a motorcycle in India at night is …. Wow.  It’s like driving directly into oncoming traffic on a road that they paved, but forgot to smooth (so it’s like a four-wheeling in the mountains because of all the bumps and potholes), while someone shines strobe and flashlights in your eyes and a blow-dryer into your face.  Meanwhile, cars, bikes and such are approaching and passing you from behind (honking all the while, because that’s what you do to announce your presence on a road here), and the cars coming from the other direction are crossing over (the nonexistent center line) to pass the cars in their lanes.  Each vehicle honks and honks at the other, and at the last possible second, they cross onto their own side of the road, cutting back into their lane in front of/right next to you, typically missing the oncoming car within a hair’s breadth.  It’s exciting, to say the least.  Even when you’re just a passenger in a car. Driving adds a whole new element to the mix, however.  This is how they drive during the day as well, but at night, when everyone has their brights – highbeams – on (because there are no rules here about turning them down to regular headlights when other cars are approaching), it’s a whole new story.  You also can’t see the speed breakers or potholes until you’re nearly upon them, to say nothing of people, cars, cows….

At Thalassa Greek Restaurant

After I had dinner at the Greek restaurant, my Honda Activa and I ventured out on our night drive, and I was pretty  pleased when I found myself outside the night market again, but then I realized I would have to park my motorbike somewhere, and it was a madhouse! There were so many people and cars and bikes, with the sounds of horns and voices and music and lights flashing. Luckily, there was pretty convenient paid parking, so I maneuvered my bike into the lane they directed me to, and under the tree branch midway down the path (which was at about chest height, so super-safe) and parked between some other motorbikes.  I paid a couple bucks for the parking pass and realized I had successfully arrived at the night market!

Booth at Night Market in Goa

It was quite enjoyable.  It reminded me of the exhibition they have during January in Hyderabad which is rather like a large state fair, with booths and entertainment.  This was rather international, however, with vendors from throughout India, and some global. There was a food court in the center and entertainment throughout the night.  It only happens once a week during the tourist season, and goes until 3 in the morning.  They say it’s for the foreign tourists, but I certainly saw a lot of Indian tourists there as well.  . I actually met a guy from the US named Neptune who had a booth selling mouth harps. He taught me how to play one, which was totally awesome, since I’ve had one for YEARS, and (although I thought I’d tried every possible position and angle to make that harp project sound) I hadn’t figured out how to do it right. Actually, I think my mouth harp used to belong to my grandfather from upstate New York. It’s funny that I had to travel to Goa, India to learn how to play it from someone else from the other side of the world! 

Bands played throughout the night and at one point there was a fire dance. Here’s a not-so-great video link… The crowd really liked that.  There were a few rides and such, and the vendors were colorful and interesting.  I enjoyed browsing and even bought an item or two – which is fun because of the bargaining/haggling that one does with the salespeople.  I confuse a lot of them because I look Indian, but then if I speak and they realize I don’t know Hindi, they know for certain I’m foreign.  I’m not always sure if they can tell – and there is frequently a different starting price for Indians than for foreigners.  Sometimes, they’ve already quoted me a price, and have to work with that one, but it’s interesting to see where the bargaining goes.

Actually, I’ve been confusing a lot of people here.  It’s quite funny.  I enjoy messing with people too.  I like making people guess where I’m from.  I must be staying in an area of the beach where they get a lot of Northern Europeans, though, because I’ve never been asked if I’m Swedish so many times in my life!   I’m often asked if I’m from Mumbai – I think that’s where the main Bollywood film industry is located, and they must have more lax dressing standards there.  But in general, I don’t carry myself like an Indian.  Also, I wear caps (because of a head injury, I am get migraines and am light-sensitive) and make eye contact with people when passing by, both of which I don’t think are very typical of an Indian woman.  And I don’t always sound like an American, but I don’t dress like a proper Indian. But since my Dad’s Indian and I’ve spent some time here, I have some lee-way when I answer the inevitable “Where are you from?” question that is one of the first I’m usually given.  For example, some guys (usually around college age) are rather idiotic here in that they like to approach foreign women and ask to take a photo with them.  A couple of guys approached and asked where I was from.  I told them I was from Andhra Pradesh.  They were surprised, but relatively pleased ‘cause that’s the state they’re from, and said they’d thought I was foreign, and had wanted a photo.   I relented and told them I was half-American.  I let them take their pics and I walked on down the beach.  Then two more guys (who were in a group with those other two) came up behind me, calling and wanting the same thing.  Exasperated (because I was walking in the surf, looking for crabs, and rather enjoying myself), I actually asked, “Why?!?  What do you actually want the pic for?”  I’m pretty sure they’re going to go back to their home and put the pic on Facebook or something, saying “hey, look at the foreign girl I picked up in Goa.”  But clearly all 4 of them are friends, and they can’t all post pics with the same girlfriend.  Maybe they hadn’t thought that far ahead.  Also, most people are on Facebook, and when their face got tagged might be rather angry about these fools’ posts…. I didn’t point out their stupidity.  I just wanted to continue my splashing by then, since I’d been walking for a couple hours in the sun, and wanted a nice cool drink back at my hotel, which was in the direction I was ambling.  Luckily, it was far enough away that I was certain they weren’t following me anymore by the time I reached my beach area.

Name Buddies – me with Sushanth in Goa

Of course, once I got there, I had to contend with the waiter at that restaurant who decided we’d be friends (esp since our names are similar), and introduced me to his friends (most of whom didn’t speak much English), who all hung out by my table during their downtime (and then wanted to take pics with me, of course). They were pretty funny, though as they kept reappearing at my table, getting increasingly tipsy as the evening progressed.  Silly boys…