Read on, read on... sorry about the bad layout, from time to time the blog goes funny. Try downloading FireFox to fix any problems with viewing the site. I keep the blog to maintain memories I'm likely to forget and share them with the world. Typing stuff is also easier than writing with a pen and saves paper:) You can select which blog subject I've written under on the left, although most things will be Thoughts and Feelings or Rant (its too easy to rant about stuff)

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

I've Goan away

3.01.06
Let me just say first of all- Goa is in west India for the information of not-knowers. Apparently there's another Goa in Africa so I'm just confirming any presumptions.

This is my first time east ever so in all honesty, my only expectations me somewhere where I've never been is based on what I've seen in the media.

Its the 3rd January so I've been here two local days, three if you count British time (we're 5hrs 30min ahead of English). Although I say that, really I've been awake two days with the occasional nap wherever possible. Jetlag isn't so bad as I'm really just staying ur later than I would at home. Sleep is almost immediate despite a very hard bed.
So I'm in a country with very humble living but yet where tourism is a precious business. I wouldn't ask for too much luxury coz I'd feel out of place doing so.

Every service and good deed is worth a tip, something I'm not familiar with. Already in the arrivals of the airport and someone who offers to carry my bags asks for a tip. I explain to him I have no rupees but he says he'll accept English money, so I hand him £1. Given the exchange rate, I'd given a small fortune to someone when I could have done the job myself for free! One of the tourist mistakes people make is over-tipping so I'm watching myself.

Its also really easy to spot a foreigner here. Heck, I can do it myself. Once spotted, you're pounced by people offering goods or a taxi!

Indeed, another way of spotting tourists is the colour we lack and the women. Typically its a male-dominated country, which leads me to question the safety of ma mère et ma soeur when going about in swimming costumes- if all the women aren't about, who else is, aside from our own?

This has meant, despite us moving about while swimming, I've presumed a group of camera-wielding young men to be following my sister, which winds me up instantly as every angle seems to try including a shot. I'm not a killer, but don't push me. I'm quite hostile towards too much friendliness- its sleazy.
That's it so far in only a day.

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