OK, where did I leave off last. I think I was in Bangalore recovering from a late curse of Chicken Pox last I wrote. The Pox really wasnt so bad. I was lucky to get away with mild fever for three days. Going to Bangalore ended up being a big mistake. I spent most of my efforts busing across town to the Tata Indicom service center to have my mobile modem service repaired. In a week there was no success to I took the loss and threw in the towel. I guess the future of information technology is not for me, not quite yet. My big Bangalore highlight was test driving a REVA, India's own electric car. Short but sweet. I also randomly visited a non proffit, Anti Corruption Agency, and learned all about India's systemic funds filching woes.
On a whim I set off to Goa to recharge my social life and boy am I pleased I did. I landed in Benaulin then bounced up to Arambol after a couple days seeking out the young writhing masses. There they were, European, jobless, free, and getting tan on the warm cow infested beach. Arambol is where it's at. Beach huts from $4/night with restaurants and bars line the sand (my hut was enviably the most exposed with a door that landed me directly in the beach traffic). Hella hippie outfit shopping lined the one street with swirly colors and Ali Baba pants everywhere. I bought nothing expecting to get my fix in Jaipur. And the water is bath temperature with happy little waves to play in.
A short walk around the hill at the end of the beach and you will discover a small paradise with another beach, isolated and backed by a clean and swimable fresh water pond. The ridge above this beach hosts lovely conditions for paragliding. For $30 you can go tandem. I opted to throw down $120 and spend the week learning to do it solo. My instructor was a super tanned Dutchman renamed Madu by his Guru, Osho. Everyone was talking about Osho. Apparently he was arrested in Oregon at some point. Madu is a wise paraglider and heatedly advised me not to do it as he could provide no insurance or responsibility for my life. But I thought, "Isn't that how did people do things before trial lawyers?" Besides, how could I say no to flying free like the birds, soaring effortlessly, hundreds of feet above the earth and what a view. This was definitely my style. The grin on my face says it all.
I also picked up a staff and started to learn to spin fire. Flying like a bird, playing with fire, stupid things I know but hey, I made it right? Actually, I never got around to using fire. I just practiced my moves.
Yeah, Arambol was loads of fun. Lots of new agieness going on. One of my favorite spots was the magic park where you can receive a sermon on The Great Freedom (short moments of awareness many times is the road to salvation) in the morning, and participate in a contact improv session after dark eating vegan chocolate cake in the mean time. To all my alternative minded, hippie, burner, circus friends, go to Arambol if you get the chance.
I will leave you with an especially insightful ditty David, my slightly cynical English friend, and I picked up from a group of spiritualizers on the beach at sunset. "Everything is magnificent. The waves are coming in. The waves are coming in" Repeat until you are the last one there. A hand drum helps as well.
