Saturday, October 14 Old Goa, Massage

The driver Elvis and an English-speaking guide took us for a tour of Old Goa. We drove through Panaji and a series of low-lying mangrove settlements on the Mandovi River. Old Goa was built on an island by the Portuguese for fortification from the locals (who probably hated their colonizers considering they killed cows, stole their land and wealth, and executed those who rebelled or wouldn’t convert) and from the other European maritime powers. The gateway had a huge arch with a statue of the explorer Vasco Da Gama who reached Kerala via the Cape of Good Hope. He had on funny poofy pants and tights. The first sight was the Church of St. Cajetan, a large but unused building used to preach Christianity to people in the hinterlands, built in 1655 along the same lines as St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Next we drove to the Churches of Old Goa, a World Heritage Site. The largest is Se Cathedral, a huge brick and plaster living church with wooden pews, gilted gold wooden statues of saints and a bearded Jewish dude on a crucifix. The buildings are very tall and cool inside. Walking across the road is the Basilica of Bom Jesus. Insert any word here: Basilica of: awesome, tight, dope, cool: Jesus; Jesus apparently is bomb. This church is famous around the Catholic world because it houses the remains of St. Francix Xavier, a Jesuit who spread Christianity to far-reaching parts of Asia. ‘Far-reaching’ is the wrong term, since his hand was cut off and sent to Rome. There were a bunch of other convents done in Gothic and classical styles. We were given some time to shop in Panaji, the capital. The city was immaculately clean by Indian standards, and was very quaint and on the waterfront. The palm-fringed blue, yellow and white whitewashed buildings were a welcome change from the slums and dilapidated apartment buildings of Mumbai. Shops were overpriced, as they cater mostly to foreign tourists. At the heart of the city was the whitewashed Church of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception. I really don’t know how the missionaries managed to spread European languages to the rest of the world; If I was converted to Hinduism and I was expected to learn temple names like Babri Ka Agnipariksha Aur Varnashramadharma Mandir I would have no desire to learn Hindi. After visiting town, we came back and hit up the pool again. I love being able to bask in the sun, doing absolutely nothing for once. Actually my day was filled with sightseeing tours and massages. Mom and I went to the spa because they offered dirt-cheap massages. Dad didn’t want one, because it’s what faggots do, but whatever, his loss. The spa was really nicely-decorated with waterfalls, dark lighting, and aromatic flowers. Because it’s India, I had a male masseur and Mom had a female masseuse. Under a bathrobe they give you disposable underwear. The underwear was the smallest garment I’ve ever warn. This thing makes a loincloth look like a ski jacket. Elastic strings were for the sides, and the front and back flaps were probably 4 inches wide. Awkward. First my feet were soaked, and then I got a coconut body scrub, which smelled amazing. Then I was wrapped from head to toe in five layers of towels like a mummy, and couldn’t move at all. Then I took a shower and got a full-body massage. I was fully relaxed and felt really light afterwards. Then I went to dinner with Mom and Dad to a Goan buffet. It had amazing food including mutton vindaloo, fish curry, chourisso, sorpotel, potato periperi, king prawns, xacuti, recheiado, sanna, dodol, bebinca, and coconut ice cream.