i am not in anjuna, goa. this is the place where goa gil settled in the early 70s, and started experimenting with the music that became the goa-trance that you hear now all over europe. it is also where colonies of not-terribly-welcome nudists set up camp, also in the 70s. there are still clubs and raves often, particularly for christmas and new years, but not like in the 70s and late 90s.
the town itself isnt much. there are lots of resort style places and dodgy beach bars that look more like something you would find in cameroon or gabon than in asia. last night we went to a street market that was one of the largest and wierdest i had ever seen. it was huge and stretched up a hill. the stalls were run by both europeans and indians and sold everything you could imagine from bedding to jewellry. i got some pirate cds, but nothing else. still it was interesting to see, more like a museum than a shopping experiience.
this is also the place where it seems damaged souls come to hide and slowly die. yesterday max and i wandered into a rooftop bar. it turned out the bars one and only edible specialty was "space cake" with each portion containing 1 gram of hash. i declined, but max ate up (and rapidly fell into a stupor on some pillows where he remained for a good 3 hours). this left me to make conversation with the bar owners, two odd characters. assuming i was south african, the first guy started telling me his life story. he spent 3 years shooting heroin in johannesburg, and dealing for a gang of nigerians. he filled me in on the cost of everything in south africa, and on the african power structure there: nigerians are straight players, they give you what they say they will give you and they regulate themselves. if they mess up or cheat, they are punished by their own bosses, kenyans are all students. their villages save up to send one bright guy abroad to study. he then has to return and work for the village to pay of his debt. tanzanians you meet abroad are crooks. rather than jailing them, the government gives them a passport and a choice of 5 countries or so they can go to, with the order not to come back for 10 years, it is cheaper than jail....at least that is what this guy claimed.
anyway, after 3 years in jo'burg, he got deported back to britain. nothing happened to him there. he applied for a new passport and set off for india, funded by nigerians. he claims he has been here in goa 12 years. it could be true, god only knows. he has no teeth. the one in his mouth were fake, he took them out to prove it, and it was true, the guy has not a single tooth left. he will never go back to europe, he knows he will never get a job. he will rot here, rather rapidly given his present state. his conversation wasnt always coherent, he was high as a kite and smoking the whole while. at one point he stopped to give me a 15 minute lecture apparently aimed at convincing me i could cook. he spouted off recipes faster than my brain could process them, telling me how to prepare everything from rissotto to various indian dishes. his friend was equally strange, just not so talkative. he had also done time some where, but i didnt get the whole story.
finally max woke and we went to dinner.
the town itself isnt much. there are lots of resort style places and dodgy beach bars that look more like something you would find in cameroon or gabon than in asia. last night we went to a street market that was one of the largest and wierdest i had ever seen. it was huge and stretched up a hill. the stalls were run by both europeans and indians and sold everything you could imagine from bedding to jewellry. i got some pirate cds, but nothing else. still it was interesting to see, more like a museum than a shopping experiience.
this is also the place where it seems damaged souls come to hide and slowly die. yesterday max and i wandered into a rooftop bar. it turned out the bars one and only edible specialty was "space cake" with each portion containing 1 gram of hash. i declined, but max ate up (and rapidly fell into a stupor on some pillows where he remained for a good 3 hours). this left me to make conversation with the bar owners, two odd characters. assuming i was south african, the first guy started telling me his life story. he spent 3 years shooting heroin in johannesburg, and dealing for a gang of nigerians. he filled me in on the cost of everything in south africa, and on the african power structure there: nigerians are straight players, they give you what they say they will give you and they regulate themselves. if they mess up or cheat, they are punished by their own bosses, kenyans are all students. their villages save up to send one bright guy abroad to study. he then has to return and work for the village to pay of his debt. tanzanians you meet abroad are crooks. rather than jailing them, the government gives them a passport and a choice of 5 countries or so they can go to, with the order not to come back for 10 years, it is cheaper than jail....at least that is what this guy claimed.
anyway, after 3 years in jo'burg, he got deported back to britain. nothing happened to him there. he applied for a new passport and set off for india, funded by nigerians. he claims he has been here in goa 12 years. it could be true, god only knows. he has no teeth. the one in his mouth were fake, he took them out to prove it, and it was true, the guy has not a single tooth left. he will never go back to europe, he knows he will never get a job. he will rot here, rather rapidly given his present state. his conversation wasnt always coherent, he was high as a kite and smoking the whole while. at one point he stopped to give me a 15 minute lecture apparently aimed at convincing me i could cook. he spouted off recipes faster than my brain could process them, telling me how to prepare everything from rissotto to various indian dishes. his friend was equally strange, just not so talkative. he had also done time some where, but i didnt get the whole story.
finally max woke and we went to dinner.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire