Goa 2: CyberCafes And Other Indian Miracles

September 5th, 2007 at 04:12am Barbara Floria Orcutt 332

From the street, the building with the large "Cyber Cafe" sign looked promising. Then we entered the 10x10 foot first floor open-air office and saw the steepest, smallest circular staircase we've ever seen as the only way up to the second floor. We ascended to find a 10x10 foot room with no glass in the windows that held six computers, two of which were working. The sign said broadband, but it's clearly dial-up. When we sat down there was one other customer - an Indian who was on a nasty porn site- I told Allen in a loud voice to "watch out for that guy - he's looking at PORN." The man quickly switched to other sites, then left.

After the clearest, sunniest morning we've had since we arrived in Goa six days ago, it's now raining again - not torrential - but a good solid drizzle. So our plan to walk around Panaji - the lively (a travel-writer's euphemism for crowded) capital of Goa, we had a long lunch and now are settled in to check e-mail.

Lunch today was at the Hotel Mondovi - the oldest hotel in Panji, built in 1953, when the Portuguese were still here. When we sat down in the second floor dining hall we were the only customers in the somber, cavernous room. In the two hours that we were there maybe three other tables were taken. At the back of the room a one-man band with a drum set and electric guitar loudly played and sang an eclectic mix of American pop and lounge music including "L is How I Love to Look, at You," "The Tennessee Waltz." Gene Pitney's "Crying" -- which all the waiters knew, "100 Miles" by Peter, Paul and Mary and various Elvis and Beatles songs.

I ordered a Tandoori Chicken and Kanul, our waiter suggested I also have a Goan side dish made with green peas and cashews, and some "gravy,”" "because Tandoori is too dry." I tell him, it can't be too spicy, and he assures me it won't be. When my lunch arrives I try the green gravy - which turns out to be a green curry, and of course it's incredibly hot.

When Kanul returns to check on us (which Indian waiters do at an uncanny schedule -- every 5 minutes for awhile, and then they disappear for 20 minutes) I tell him it's too spicy. He once again insists it's not too spicy, and I respond,” it is for me, I'm American.” Then he understands, "Yes of course, then it might be."
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I brought my Mac laptop to India with the idea I would do some writing, check e-mail and so on. Ordinarily I wouldn't think of bringing one to Southeast Asia, but I thought it was worth a try in IT-mad India. As it turns out, some of hotels have Wifi, but I don’t have the right conversion plug so I can’t charge it, and the surge I protector has three plugs, so I can’t plug my computer into it either, and due to the incessant power fluctuations and failures here (at least once a day) the hard disc could easily get fried.

So I asked around, specifically, a Ph.D. in astronomy who edits a magazine “for the population, so they will stop believing in astrology, and understand the science behind the stars!” and he drew us a map of how to get to a nearby “gift shop” that would have what I needed as well a charger for Allen’s video camera. (BTW – astrology is very much as part of the many Indians lives. Our 5-star hotel, the Taj Holiday Village, has an astrologer in residence, for those who need one to plan their travel and business decisions).

We found the shop, and noted the hand-painted signs on the exterior for baby items, picture frames, Catholic books and film. The miracle? They had everything we needed.

It just noticed it stopped raining, so we are going to hit the Lively streets,
B and A