Breakfast with Mr. L on the 24th December morning...

...implied getting up at 04:20 in the morning to undertake the trip from Sai Baba Nagar to Road "A" behind Churchgate. Sanjeev came out with me and procured a taxi near the main drag. From there we raced down the Western Highway, passing close to places like Kandivali Candolim; Goregaon Goregão; Andheri Anderim; Vile Parle Irle-Parlem; Santacruz Santa Cruz; Bandra Bandorá; and so forth. Close to the S. Gandhi national park, the early morning midst felt cool and pleasant. later on, the stench raising from the Mahim creek was the right queue to break air without molesting my driver. When we entered "A" road, I woke up some night watchmen to pinpoint my benefactor's apartment building.

Mr. L. had obviously just got out of bed when I rang his door bell at 05:50. However, with a lungi tied round his waist and his hair slightly dishevelled, he was still the coolest secretary in the Maratha Government by far. And he ushered me into his living room outlooking towards the Arabian Sea.

I showed him my permission letters and some other paperwork. At the same time, he cooperated with his wife in serving me breakfast, including papaya, tangerine, onion-tomato uttapam, toasts and tea.

Time elapsed and my train was leaving shortly from VT. Mr. L. offered to drive me to the station on his car and came down with a special light to be fixed over the hood in order to make haste. However, another resident had parked in front of his car, obstructing it. Mr. L. then suggested we should grab a taxi. Walking a little beyond his building, we reached Churchgate, where a lot of cabbies stood their ground; however, none was keen to take us to VT, a very short distance away. Finally, at the fourth refusal, Mr. L. coolly mentioned to the driver something with the words "police", "Maratha government" etc. and we were on our way. As we stepped out of the cab at VT's gate, I had exactly three minutes to locate and board the Mandovi Express before its departure.

Mr. L. rushed in front of me carrying my white linen suit for Fernando's wedding and I followed close on his heels carrying my brown suitcase full of olive oil and gifts and my black mochila with the working material and paperwork. And so it was that we found the train in platform 17 and Mr. L. made sure I was set on my way to Goa, towards a different landscape and different food.

As I sat back on the berth and took a long breath in, I reflected upon those ten days in the great city of Mumbai. According to the best interpretations, the preliminary work for my Konkan Surveying Tour could be considered a success.

Manuel de Souza, a Goan from Saliago working in the Gulf, entertained me for the rest of my trip.

Recorrente

No início, o mar está sempre calmo, é inofesivo e silencioso. Depois de umas braçadas, começam a nascer as ondas, devagar, ondas engraçadas...depois crescem. Quando atingem os 4 ou 5 metros, a costa já está a quilómetros de distância, as pessoas e os guarda-sóis na praia já não se distinguem. E então as ondas levam-nos para o mais fundo do mar, em turbilhões de espuma e areia...finalmente o aquecimento global vingou. E então, começamos a reastejar lá em baixo, debaixo das águas, em direcção à praia, porque a água das ondas desapareceu...agora são apenas bolhas de oxigénio que fazem um barulho ensurdecedor ao quebrarem na areia. Na praia, a polícia inspecciona a disposição das toalhas, brinquedos, etc. E vamos ser multados - ou presos - porque está tudo um caos.

Segunda de Reentreé

Começou com uma manga para o pequeno-almoço seguida de uma deslocação aos correios de D. Pedro V. Sinceramente, não sei o que põem no café daquela malta, mas são todas de uma simpatia enternecedora. Seguiu-se uma viagem até Coimbra e encontro com algumas pessoas que já não via há muito. O prato social estava bastante aceitável nas azuis; seguiu-se o cafézinho lá em cima e uma tarde em frente ao computador. A caminho de Aveiro, o meu carro avariou na autoestrada e tive de esperar uma hora e meia pelo reboque. Entretanto, veio o tipo da Brisa que ainda ficou a conversar comigo durante um cigarro e uma olhadela ao motor. Jantar remeteu-se para perto da meia-noite. E assim começou mais uma temporada.

1999 - 2009

Manhãs Caídas

Quando te vieram prender,
Eu sei sem ninguém me ter contado,
Toda a tua coragem veio ao de cima
Enquanto se ofereciam copos de vinho

Quando friamente amanheceu,
Eu sei sem ninguém me ter contado,
A morte não te conseguiu prender
Apesar de teres ido com ela.

(Agosto de 2009)

The famous tout of Jodhpur

is about 10 years old and not higher than my wasteline. He comes straight at you, eyeing you like a kill in a weird and twisted safari. He then tries to lead you inside any of the numerous shops that line up the main drags of the old town. He's a freelancer - he has no allegiance to a particular shopowner and probably gets a general commission from the whole neighbourhood or from the older and shop-based touts. He speaks fluent english and is aware of the tourist's basic needs - shopping and water.
And if you see him in Jodhpur, you know just where you stand.