February 6, 2006

I could think of no better juxtaposition to explain the diversity within India than what I saw this morning. Yesterday my roommate and I left Goa to return to Mumbai. Panjim, the capital and largest city of this small southern state, was a veritable ghost town on Sunday. The metal curtains of all the shops that line the streets were shut and no one was out trying to make a sale. Even the invitations of the few taxi and rickshaw drivers lacked persistence. The streets were swept, only two drunks were seen sleeping on the steps of a church, and we walked the unbroken sidewalks for hours in the hot sun. We kept getting lost, not because of how big, but rather because of how small Panjim is. We passed the same church about three or four time until we finally reached where we wanted to go.

We arrived in Mumbai at 5:50 this morning to see the market next to the train station bustling with activity. Hundreds of people milled around buying and selling flowers. No other goods could be seen except maybe an occasional reed basket. On the footbridge across to the market other vendors could be seen sleeping under their blankets on giant rugs that obviously covered their wares. The disabled and homeless were already out begging at the station and the city was barely starting to crack its eyes open for the new day.

The weekend was a good change from busy metropolitan life as I got to visit the beaches of Goa. Mumbai is one of the largest ports in the world and the water around reflect its status. Goa is a more touristic area of India and has a very distinctive culture. The Portuguese controlled the area until 1961 and their influence is strongly felt in the language, the architecture, religion and all other aspects of life. We spent the first two days enjoying the sand and water. I was a bit disappointed that there were no waves but relished the opportunity to be in the water once again.

When we finally reached Old Goa, the former capital which has long since been eclipsed by the new capital of Panjim, we barely had enough time to enter the church of Bom Jesus where the body of St. Francis Xavier is kept. We could make out his outline but couldn’t see too many details from the distance.