Wednesday, 26 February

By 2 AM, I was still wide awake so I popped a pill to sleep. When I woke up, it was nearly 10 AM.

I had been thinking about which clothes I should keep and which I should throw out and foremost on my mind was this white embroidered top that Rosan had given me. It was beautiful, but it was also too big. (It says that it’s a size 42.) But I had seen similar embroidered shirts around India and they are rather expensive so I had been waffling about having it altered for fear of ruining the shirt and its wonderful embroidery and impeccable stitching. But if I kept it as it was, it was either look like the Indian version of David Byrne or not wear it all. I grabbed the shirt and went to some nearby tailors.

“200 rupees”, the men wiggled their heads at me. “Wait ten minutes.” Foolish me was just too happy that they didn’t charge me 1000 rupees that I readily agreed, forgetting that 200 rupees could have fetched me a brand new beach dress, dammit. Ah, well…

The tailor didn’t even measure me. I had brought over some tops that fit me; he compared two of them, and then snipped away at the white shirt. I shuddered. There goes the impeccable stitching.

When I tried it on, it looked a lot better, but the sleeves didn’t seem to hang right. And I knew that I would wear the top more often if it didn’t have any sleeves. It’s too hot in India – and the Philippines – to wear anything with sleeves.

I sat on the floor, laid out the garment and showed him what I wanted. The tailor finally took a measuring tape and measured – something, without marking anything. Then he took a pair of scissors and cut the shirt again. I thought to myself, “Well, you were thinking of tossing it anyway…”

When I put it on, I knew I had made a mistake and that I should have been content with its first alteration. I tried not to look too disappointed, thanked the gentlemen, and left.

I decided to mull over the problem of the white shirt at Gunavanti, the restaurant where I met Lua and the big group the day before.

I ordered the veg thali. With a side order of fish. It cost the same as the one at Satpuresh (60 for the veg thali and 100 for the fish), but theirs came with chapati. But they also charged (10 rs.) for more dal. And they didn’t have any curd.

I tried on the top again back at the guesthouse. While it didn’t look so bad, it still wasn’t quite right. I took it back and, again, the tailor threw it under his machine and sewed it up without measuring anything. I tried it on again. It would have to do. It’s far from perfect but it’s more wearable now than it originally was.

At 4 PM, I went to meet Kim (half Indian, half German), whom I had met at the dinner at Shanti, to give him a massage.

After we finished, it was so hot that I stopped at Cafe Delicieux. They had available slices of the Red Velvet cake and the Chocolate Truffine. They only ever had those available as whole cakes – which is my excuse for having a slice of each. I needed to try them! The truffine was good but – I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I think I’m bored with anything chocolate already. Sacrilege, I know.

And I’ve always regarded salad as a waste of space. Could this be why I am now unimpressed by anything chocolate? 😉

The Red Velvet, however, was outstanding. And they have one more slice left. Oh dear… And the carrot cake is still calling out to me. ARGH!

I stumbled on yet another hurdle on my way back to the guesthouse (- the pitfalls of walking to and from the massage school) – a shop called “Hola, Señorita!”. I was going to buy one skirt but couldn’t decide between two colors. I then made the mistake of converting the cost to Philippine pesos, realized they were cheap, and bought the two. GAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Hola, Señorita!

Bought another 5-liter bottle of water.

In the evening, I went to meet Kim, Sagar and Pawas at Cafe Dolphin. I was still full from the cakes, so I just had a Tuborg, a Danish beer. Afterwards, we went to a cool little bar on the road called “Don’t Tell Mama”, where we had some white wine. Diana (Columbian), whom I had also met a Shanti, joined us later.

The night stretched on and I finally hit the sack at 6 AM.

Thursday, 27 February

Pawas’ call woke me up. It was his last day in Goa so he decided to cancel his massage with me and spend the day at the beach instead. Did I want to join him? I was still dead from the night before but finally joined him at around 4 PM. I had only had a mushroom, tomato and cheese sandwich at the guesthouse so, by the time the sun was setting, I was getting hungry. We headed to Babu Huts to watch the sunset. I ordered a papaya lassi and probably the best cheese naan that I’ve had in India. The cheese wasn’t just grated on top of the naan but was inside it. It was thick, hot, runny, and beautiful.

Watching the sun set from Babu Huts.

In the evening, a big group of us headed to Thalassa, a Greek restaurant in Vagator

There were eleven of us. From me to my left, going around the table: Pawas (Indian), Lubna (French), Irina (Russian, manager of Shanti), Sagar (Indian), Jo (American), Aless (French), Lionel (French), Julia (German), Jonathan (German, Indian), Kim (German, Indian), and Mikkas (Danish).

White wine was the poison for the evening. I shared some stuffed sardines with Sagar, then had a lamb moussaka for my main course, both of which were very good. For dessert, I shared a pannacotta with Lionel but I found it too gelatin-y.

Then we went to party at Katzensuppe, an indoor club at Vagator, where Pawas and Jonathan were DJing.

It was the last day in Goa for a lot of people in the group so it was a happy, farewell party.

Julia, Jonathan, and Sagar at Katzensuppe. You can listen to some of Jonathan Haehn’s sounds on SoundCloud at Alma & Mater and Son Sun.

I can’t keep track of what I drank at this point. Vodka-sodas, I think. The last of us four stragglers got back to Morjim at around 6 AM.

Friday, 28 February

Had a quick breakfast at Esperanto Cafe (scrambled eggs with aubergine – can’t recommend it; it was bland and dry) then I packed up my stuff and moved to the guesthouse across the street. I’m running out of cash fast and need to cut some expenses and the room I’m staying at now is much smaller – but I can buy a nice outfit with what I’m saving. (I have my eyes on a kaftan that I found at a shop beside Babu Huts.)

I then went to the massage school to meet Diana, but she had gone with some others to have lunch at Mandrem. Chetan was on his way to join them so I hitched a ride with him.

We found them (Diana, Aless, Lua, Sveta – Russian, and David – German) at Happy Monkey having fresh fruit juices. Then we moved to Ketan, a restaurant across the street, for lunch.

Since the boys I’ve been hanging with the past few days have been having fried rice (Pawas had it at Cafe Dolphin, and Kim had it at Babu Huts), I finally ordered my own and had a fried rice with chicken. I also ordered some mixed vegetable pakora to go with it. The others had veg thalis that were real, proper, hefty ones – and not the lame ones we’ve been getting at the shacks in Morjim. (It was also double the price though.)

Now, that’s a proper (but blurry) veg thali.

Afterwards, Diana and I went to catch the last rays of sun before she had to leave for Pune. Diana’s friends, Eric (Canadian) and Sebastian (French), joined us later, as did Chetan and Sveta.

Just as we got to the beach, the sun hid behind some clouds. It came out for maybe five minutes before going back into hiding. Meanwhile, a strong wind started to blow. There was sand everywhere, and we were freezing.

Now, that’s a proper (but blurry) veg thali.

Afterwards, Diana and I went to catch the last rays of sun before she had to leave for Pune. Diana’s friends, Eric (Canadian) and Sebastian (French), joined us later, as did Chetan and Sveta.

Just as we got to the beach, the sun hid behind some clouds. It came out for maybe five minutes before going back into hiding. Meanwhile, a strong wind started to blow. There was sand everywhere, and we were freezing.

Me and Diana, freezing on the beach. I put on Sveta’s jacket and used my Keralan towel as a scarf, while Diana bundled up in Eric’s shirt and wrapped a towel around her neck.

In the evening, we had dinner at Cafe Dolphin to bid Kim and Diana goodbye before they left for Pune. I was still full from lunch and had a Tuborg.

After dinner, I rushed back to the guesthouse to get changed. Lionel invited me to a party at Marbela, a plush resort. Cover charge was 500 rupees but that included unlimited beer (only Kingfisher and Miller.) I can’t remember if I had four or five Milllers but they were rubbish because I was still sober. Then we hung out with the guys at the next table: Mike and Oscar (Indians) and Katrina (Romanian-Lebanese) who had bottles of Grey Goose, and the whole evening took a new turn.

The music was really good and we danced a lot. I got home at around 4:30 AM.

Um, dancing counts as exercise, right? But, yeah, in 10 days, I’ve only done four massages, haven’t had enough sleep (unless it’s Xanax-induced) and have drunk and smoked too much.

Saturday, 1 March

I am totally and utterly exhausted.

Forced myself to get out of bed at 1:30 PM to get something to eat. Crossed the street to Gunavanti for the non-veg thali with extra fish, but found their fish servings too small today. Went back to the room to crash.

While I was sleeping, an Indian guy with a disfigured face came into my room and told me that I really shouldn’t fall asleep with the door unlocked. I tried to get up and lock the door but I was so sleepy that I could barely lift my head. When I finally managed to get up and check the door, I realized that it was only a dream.

Went back to the Night Market to exchange the two dresses I had bought before. The stitching had come loose on one dress, and the color bled out on the other dress. I told myself that I wouldn’t eat at the market and, of course, as soon as I got there, I went straight for the food stalls.

It wasn’t very good…

I gave myself two hours to walk around.

Then, just as I was about to leave, there it was – the hot pink kaftan. With a 400-rupee discount. I had to buy it.

I only have five more days to go in India and it’s starting to look like I’ll be going over over budget soon and will have to withdraw cash from the ATM. Nooooooo… The truth is that it is very easy to leave cheaply in India – IF you don’t drink. And if you don’t have an addiction to beautiful clothes. Sigh…