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Full circle |
...February 2003 |
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After a week in Auroville, which despite being on my initial places to visit, I'm not going to discuss, I got word that Roni (brief encounter in Varanasi) had staved off her parental injunctions to return and was waiting for me in Goa, and I jumped on the bike and we spent a very happy month together, which I'm also not going to discuss. The bike market was red hot in Anjuna, this being the beginning of the season, and I spent time trying to pick up cheap bikes from folk who needed to leave urgently, thinking I could then sell them at my leisure.I would be doing those poor shortsighed guys a favour! Alas, I was never in the right place at the right time. When Roni leftjust before Christmas, I moved back to Arambol, where Georgie and Johnnie were successfully running their 'Melonfucker' clothing business, Sasha had arrived, Bjoern and Judith soon showed up and then my mother, and then David from Dublin from last March. I had some social juggling to do! |
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Also I invested in a CD writer, and made my music
available to the general public, which went down very well. One evening,
running a jukebox night in a restaurant, I learned of an English chappie
down the coast who had three times as much music as me and three computers
for browsing his database - that seemed to be the way forward, but
my visa extension was running out, and the season was half over. Maybe
next year.
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I sold my computer to Georgie and Johnny in a transaction that left a bitter taste. Eventually everybody but Bjoern and Judith had left, and it was up to me to decide what to do. Having put a 'for sale' sign on my bike, I enrolled in a one week Enfield maintenance course, to get it in tippy toppy condition. And then - what? I was running out of ideas. Running out of will for sitting on or near the beach. Running out of visa. Running out of will for meeting people who were always moving on. I decided to go down the coast to Palolim for no reason. When I got there I realised just how pointless an excusrion this was. I bumped into Mike, a friend of Deepti's from Dharamsala, and the very next day drove him back to Arambol. |
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On the way, the bike flipped onto its side and we rode the tarmac at 35mph. Perhaps the back tyre had been a bit soft. Fortunately the leg guard I fitted in Dharamsala kept the weight of the bike off my leg. We made it back to Arambol though, wounds red raw, fortunately mine more extensive than Mike's. I judged antibiotics unecessary for such superficial wounds, and was soon unable to stand upright and covered in pussy scabs. It took over a week reading Shogun and Das Boot for Bjoern and Judit to find out and track me down, whereupon they were most charitable. Bjoern took me to hospital where antibiotics and antiinflamatories were prescribed and my knee X-rayed, and two days later the pus stopped and I was walking. |
 Two weeks later |
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Time to leave india. ASAP. I would go to Thailand and Isabel, a family friend from 20 years ago who would spoil me rotten. My fortnight in bed hadn't facilitated the sale of the bike even slightly. Not wanting any nonsense I went to Anjuna market, and sold the bike next day to a middle aged resident German with a teenage wife for just over half what I paid for it. So much for "excellent condition." Then I picked up a new hard disk and headed to Poona where my visa extension had to be stamped. I worked out I could save about 100 pounds by taking the train to Calcutta and flying from there. Tried to get into the (in)famous Osho's ashram for some sex and Rolls Royces - not to mention mediation - but they didn't like my visa extension, so I was left outside having not been refunded for my compulsory HIV test. I wailed and gnashed my teeth and hung out with an Israeli girl called Heli for three days, who, though she was one of the chosen, didn't want to dive in at the deep end. (It turned out she went all the way changed her name, and roped her boyfriend in after I left.) |
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Then 36 hours on the train reading Salman Rushdie. With my new haircut and top bunk I was able to avoid all conversation. In Calcutta the airline refused me a one way ticket without a visa.On the other hand www.thaivisa.com said I needed a ticket to apply a visa. Spent the next morning crossing Calcutta to visit the embassy who denied both of those claims. Then just before I bought my ticket, my wallet was stolen with 150 pounds left from the sale of the bike. Bugger! I lost as much in that moment as on the bike on which I had lavished 6 months of love. On the other hand, it wasn't so bad. Went to the cashpoint and all was well. One forgets the value of money sometimes. |
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| The last month had too many misfortunes and I'm so relieved
to be moving on. Thailand should be relatively civilised.
Matthew |
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