Panjim

I took a taxi to Panjim. I couldn't find good opinions for accommodation so I just asked the taxi driver to drop me at Fontainhas quarter, the historical Portuguese neighbourhood. From there I would go around knocking on hostels' doors to find a place to sleep.

Apparently the high season was just starting and prices were off the roof for Indian standards. After a few tries I found a bed in a mediocre hostel called Marquito's guest house, in the historical neighbourhood. After checking in, I met one of my four room mates, his name was Sagar. We quickly became friends.

He was a young Indian, a freelance model, produced house photography for advertisement and did a bunch of other other things. I came to realise that he couldn't summarise his job in a single sentence. He was looking for a temporary job as a waiter and was going to fill the roll of a marketing coordinator in a few months. Made me think of how we as westerners let our jobs become part of our identities, but it doesn't have to be that way.

We went out exploring together. First to the immaculate conception church, which while being pretty I found weird that it was closed off to the public. Then Sagar took me to Bodega's house, a coffee place with a modern art gallery.

He payed for my coffee. I found out much later that he was in a difficult situation with his family and was facing a lot of uncertainty for the next couple of months. I don't think I ever found someone so carelessly generous. He payed my coffee! Me, an European tourist! While he doesn't know how he's going to pay for food in a few weeks! And it's not like he ever expected me to pay back, he only told me his story much later the next day, after I inquired about his situation.

We enjoyed a glorious view of the horizon from the beach, right after sunset. And on our way back he took me through street food stalls where I had pani puri and Indian chicken kebab. Both incredibly delicious.

Later that evening, after exploring an art exhibition and getting chicken Xacuti for dinner, we got a weird fruit shake that I don't quite remember the name of. Something like Chuki? Anyway, we were sitting in a bus stop just chatting and drinking our shake when a little kid passed by and asked Sagar if he could have his shake. Sagar very casually handed him his half full cup, as if he was just passing over the salt at a table. The kid took his shake and went cheerfully away.

These demonstrations of generosity had a big impact on me. Even now, days later, I can't help but feel my eyes getting watery from remembering these experiences.

Back at the hostel we met Lisha and another girl that were staying in our dorm room. We went to the common area upstairs where we spent hours talking. Lisha was over the moon excited when I told her I worked at CERN. We discussed science, Indian philosophy, baghvad gita and everything in between. It was an amazing exchange. I exchanged contacts with them hopping to meet them again some day.

The following morning started with a relaxed solo walk through Fontainhas, the old Portuguese quarter. I love to see new places become alive at dawn. I walked the whole neighborhood ending in the Hanuman temple at the top of a hill. I stood at the temple for awhile observing the temple's rituals. Besides praying, the believers would pour some liquid on the god's statue, light incence sticks and hang flowers in the altar. I saw them spinning 3 times after pray, walk around the statue and bring offerings to the monastics of the temple. I'm not sure if they are monks, yogis or something else.

I went back to the hostel and after checking out me and Sagar went for a delicious breakfast at the Confeitaria 31 de Janeiro. Sagar decided he would join me for my daily exploration so together we took a bus to the Basilica of Bom Jesus where the the body of saint Fancis Xavier is kept. Many christian pilgrims come to this site because of it.

The surrounding area is quite pretty, and the church very old. There's something odd about its interior decoration but it's hard to pin down what. As for the relics themselves there's not much to see as they are kept in a glass-like tomb at the top of an altar, two or three meters above the visitors.

The visit didn't take very long. Soon me and Sagar were on our way back to Panjim first and then south to the airport. On the way to the airport I got me and Sagar some lunch. He opened up more and told me his story. Both his parents had died in an accident and left him, his brother and all their money and properties in the hands of his grandmother. His grandmother had passed away a few years ago and now he lived with other relatives. But they were pressuring Sagar and his brother to surrender all that their parents had left them to be managed by the family. So Sagar decided to run away from his family with all the paperwork and remain unreachable for a few months until the money of his inheritance unlocks from a fixed deposit.

I felt that he was very vulnerable and needed a friend. I tried to offer whatever support I could. He ended up taking me all the way to the entrance of the airport and was visibly sad to see me leave. I think I'm getting too good at goodbyes.Read more