"Madame, Please!" Can't I have A Towel?!?!?!?!"

An Awkward Experience in Goa, India.


India........A country that I always thought I would fit in because of its extreme modesty. Saris and oversized fabrics can hide a not so toned Buddha belly. Arms and shoulders are covered to avoid the unwanted glances by creepy men. Legs buried under many layers. And in some severe cases, many faces are hidden completely, except for the eyes.

Now, bring in the Traditional Kerala Massage.

Our first destination in India was to be a relaxing week on one of the beaches in Goa. My sisters decided to indulge and be pampered by having a massage at what appeared to be a reputable spa. They convinced me that I should try having one as well. I had never had one before, as I don't like to be touched by people I know, let alone a complete stranger. This time around, though, I vowed to be open about having one.

From the moment I walked into the room where the massage was to take place, I knew it was going to be a strange experience. My female masseuse told me to take off all of my clothes. I gasped, and asked her if she was serious, "You want me to take off everything?!?" "Yes, everything." Call me a prude. I don't like to be naked. I am uncomfortable with nudity. I can't even change in front of other women in a locker room, and here I was having to be in my birthday suit in front of a random woman, a complete stranger from a culture who can't even show her neck or ankles. I asked her if I could at least have a towel. She said I was ok without it.

The most uncomfortable part was that she didn't even turn around so that I could undress. I proceeded to sit on a chair where she began my massage by performing chop suey on my head. I had never felt so vulnerable or exploited in my life. I shed a tear or two, and tried my best to sit in a manner where I wasn't so exposed.

All, in all, she was a very professional masseuse, and it wouldn't have been so bad if I could have concentrated on the massage and not on my insecurities. My thoughts kept going back to "she is making fun of my thighs and my old man's butt." I was really uncomfortable about the fact that she had a full frontal view. In days that followed, I heard horror stories of what goes down in some massage parlours in India. Women being raped by men who trade places with masseuses at the end of their sessions, massage parlours turning out to be brothels, or massages being videotaped. I am just lucky that it didn't turn any uglier.

Oh, and by the way, I also learnt that nude massages are the norm in India because of the oils that they use.

India is filthy...

For every good day in India, there is a bad one. It is a constant roller coaster ride of trying to figure out how to appreciate this land and its people. You love it, you hate it. You wonder how people can live this way; you have the utmost respect for those who decide to live this way. It is a land of constant contradictions. This morning, I find myself sitting on a rooftop restaurant in our haveli, shahi palace, in Jaisalmer India. As I sip on my morning coffee, it would appear as though today will likely be one of those days where I spend the entire day trying to wrap my head around all of the garbage in the streets, the open sewage, the cows which are left to empty themselves anywhere they choose. As I continue to sip on my coffee, I know that essentially, everything that has made its way to my mouth these past two weeks has also had contact with feces. How do I know this? Because as I sit here writing this, I am watching a little boy sit on an opposite roof patio in his bare feet roll colorful sweet balls into candy form. The balls are rolled and then laid on the rooftop. Peiodically, as he rolls, he gets up and walks along the rooftop to collect certain tools he needs to continue the job. These candy balls share a rooftop surface that is a public walkway for his family. In a few minutes we will then witness him walk along the streets in his barefeet. Streets that are full of so much waste and feces. Yesterday, I watched two cows in the middle of the street urinate about 2 liters each. Locals walked by as though it were nothing; a holy water jutting out onto the streets. I further passed what looked like a simple bus stand hit where half a dozen men openly relieved themselves against the wall. When I came home and googled this, I learned that it is one large public urinal... An orange stained hut that will never be washed clean. A fly lands on my coffee cup and i am aware. I am aware that five seconds ago, this same fly was feasting on human waste that is being emptied out into the streets in an open sewage system. I just don't get it. I can't help but wonder what Indians who have never left their country must think when they come to a country like Canada where littering is as punishable as theft. And why doesn't the government take action? In canada, don't we put criminals to the streets to serve their country in a useful way while they rehabilitate? In a country of over a billion people, why have things gotten so out of control? There are good days, there are bad days; but every single day is a day whereby one finds themself looking around them atu the beautiful landscapes, temples, forts, and asking WHY?

Rescue 108

Was it a potential pest situation? Leftover residue from the passing monsoon? Mosquito bites? We may never know if we were truly alone in the rooms of the quiet, laid back Bean Me Up, but on night # 3 of our Goan Holiday, we decided we didn't really want to find out. The evening started out with an enjoyable dinner at the Mango Tree: groovy music,a lazy atmosphere, awesome food, and a bottle of Indian wine. The thoughts of our itchy bites far from mind... Until we arrived back to our beds. It was near midnight, and our detective skills (Marcella as prime inspector) basis ripping through sheets and pillows. It was time to go! With no way of contacting the owner, M&T ran for the streets, seeking out one of the MANY taxis that passed. But when you want one? None in sight. These two girls in sundresses caught the attention of a local/foreign vacationer, who insisted she help them. A quick call to our next hotel had the fire started for our great escape. We packed in a flash and headed to the gate, where our knights in a small black car rushed to our rescue. 1 man, 2 man, 3 man---our convoy led up to Bean Me Up. The owner drove us, fresh from sleep and still in his drawers. The princesses were brought to the Ginger Castle

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Traditional Hindu Symbols of Love:

Everywhere we go, we are surrounded by beautiful Indian women in their saris wearing an incredible amount of jewelry and decoration. We had heard various rumors that the red dots on their foreheads and the position of their nose rings may be linked to their marital status. Yesterday as we attempted to add a bit of color to our "Barbie" white skin, we got a lesson on the Hindu culture from some of our friends, or rather the local women wandering the beach in a mad attempt to make a few rupees off of the few items they clenched in their fists, trying to be relatively discreet in their selling from the glares of police whom patrol the beach every few hours. During our three hour beach time, the police were observed twice. When the police would arrive, the women would quickly get up from their sitting perch before us and make for the bushes where they would hide out until it was cleared that officials had left. We observed that one of the girls acted as a watchman, patrolling the beach and keeping watch for the police arrival/ departure. We imagine the girls selling gave her a cut of their profits at the end of the day.

In speaking with the women as they allowed us a reprieve from their selling antics, we learned that in the Hindu faith, there are a few different symbols of marriage which are much different from the western norm of married persons sporting a wedding band on their left hand. As we came to learn, in india, a woman symbolizes her marital status in several ways; in Hinduism, when a girl gets married, she adorns certain jewelry and observes certain customs to make obvious her marital status. Married Hindu girls mangalsutra or a gold necklace that her husband places around her neck at the time of marriage. Bangals, toe rings, and a red bindi on a woman's forehead also symbolize not only her rite of passage from a girl to a married woman, but also her heightened position in society as an adult who is respected and capable of running a household.

It's Like Dairy Queen Soft Serve...

Killer 'bugs', a broken sandal, chased by locals, and cheapie cheapie eats! We have arrived!

Honk for Buddha! Headed to Asia/india.The trek begins...

48 hours to departure...

48 Hours to departure... A visit to the LeBlanc household:

 

3 days later and Angela continues to ponder over the remainder of her belongings. What will make the final cut?

Who would have thought that eliminating clothing for a 56 day adventure could be so difficult. After this, she may never wear her beloved leggings again (will she regret her 3 sock minimum?) Lessons learned thus far: bikini bottoms can dub as backup underwear, layers are best, and a red plaid top is probably not necessary in Asia.

 

 



Never invite a phramacist on a backpacking journey. Here`s why.

A pit stop in Tessie Poo Poo`s room. "You a tough lady" Struggle street as she practices lifting her essential luxuries: |1 litre shampoo & 1 litre conditioner. We`re already taking bets how long she goes before she starts chucking these things aside.

 

A carry on backpack on the verge of giving birth.

While the others fret over their last minute clothing cram, I myself opt for a final cram of my own: travel dos and dont`s.

Cool and collected third time around? Nah- not likely.

 

A weary mama bear who thinks we`re nuts.

An aspiring world traveller wishing he was being included in the shenanigans (or a waiting beneficiary....? hmmmm) 

Korean psy`s girlfriend shows us how it`s done.

An aspiring Thai "lady boy?" (but then he lets out a rip roaring toot that squashes that theory)

Little Red Riding Hood pays a visit.

A lesson in yoga from an aspiring yogi?

Fallen and can`t get up? A lesson in yoga returned.

A lesson in riding the Korean pony in case the Americo travel dance gets a bit old.

A lesson in the dangers of getting another foreign tattoo.

A lesson in epipens for possibly the first person with a peanut allergy to venture to the land of all things peanuts.

Then the snow and fireplace came (only further reinforcing need to leave)

And a further "it`s time to leave reinforcer": Anne`s carb overload.

14 days to departure. Things that make you go "WAHHHHHHH":

October 1st.

In an ideal world where things just work out, Murkle would be packed to the brim and en route for home, good `ol Cape Breton, at the best time of the year when the leaves are starting to turn colour. But things rarely work out as planned for THIS girl. With a week of vacation that took some arm twisting to secure seeing as how it fell on the Thanksgiving long weekend, I never in a million years thought that I would find myself spending it in CORNHOLE. Wahhh. But everything happens for a reason, right? So maybe an added week spent in Cornhole not as a resident, or employed citizen, but rather as a visitor, will help to reinforce that it is time to make a move out of town; that packing up my comfortable life and allowing myself to bust out of the Cornwall bubble will put things into perspective that a change is for the best. At this point, Cornwall is the life I know. Though I have only been here a year, it has become comfortable. It has become routine. Maybe not literally, but metaphorically, I am wrapped in the fetal position at 117 Sydney. The fact that I have to wait for my passport which is presently being held hostage at the Indian Embassy for the sake of $2 is only allowing me the time to sit around like a sloth and question where my head was at a few months back when I made the decision to hand in my notice in announcement of my retirement. A part of me is afraid that the longer I wait around for it, the further and further into the fetal position I will become. At this rate, two sisters may need to take a pit stop en route to India to unclench my sloth nails from my beloved bedpost.

How did I get here? My last month in review/ Things that make you go "wahhhhhhh"/You know you`re a trainwreck/have lived in Cornwall too long when:

- Two weeks ago I got a positive testing for strep throat, after having been a carrier of it for approximately two months. All around me, people crumbled at the seams with sore throats. One friend whom took three rounds of antibiotics only to still suffer from a sore throat, insisted that I also needed to be checked; rumour had it that I was infecting those around me. I laughed it off. The very concept of infecting people without actual symptoms seemed absurd. Besides, we all know how little tolerance I have for germs and waiting rooms. Sick of hearing people tell me I needed to get tested, I decided to get tested just to confirm their ridiculousness with a negative testing. First stop? Service Canada to apply for a health card. Apparently when I re-applied for a health card in 2009, I had moved from one apartment to another and when the initial card was returned to sender, they had cut me off. I had spent three years in Canada without a health card. Things that make you go "Wahhhhh". Testing= positive.No bragging rights. Again, things that make you go "wahhhhhhh."

- At the end of August, I was stopped by  in Ottawafor the very first time and walked away with 5 different warnings. In Cornwall, there is so much crime taking place that unless you`ve threatened to kill someone, have vandalized a building, or tried to punch out a cop, you generally will not get pulled over for something so harmless as an expired sticker. Would you believe that I had no idea that these sticker things on one`s license plate have an expiry date? Things that make you go "Wahhhh." Warning # 1. Other warnings? Three driver`s licenses all with a different address, expired car insurance, pulling one`s ownership out of the trunk (there was no room in my dash with all the travel snacks. sheesh), a cracked windshield, and mismatched addresses on ownership versus insurance. Three days permitted to go to the department of motor vehicle to change one`s address? Who can keep atop this stuff, really? Things that make you go "Wahhhhhh."

- A non- approved tourist visa is returned to me mid- September. Why? Good question. I take a Monday off of work to head into Ottawa to get down to the bottom of this. The verdict? On September 8th, I called the Indian embassy for the cost of the visa. $83.75 was confirmed. I mail in the money order along with my application. A letter is sent to me dated September 12th notifying me of the rejection. Apparently the price of the visa went up $2 to $85.75 on September 10th (whereby my application was either in transit or was sitting on someone`s desk somewhere waiting to be open). It`s 2:25pm and the clerk tells me that I can`t just simply pay $2, as all payments need to be in the same form. I pull a running man down to the nearest quickie and pay not $2... but $2 plus another $6.75 for a second money order. The woman tells me I will have enough time to get the money order before they close up at 2:30pm. I look at her like she is insane, but I attempt it. Sure enough- I get back to the office at 2:31pm and she hasn`t waited for me. The doors are locked with a notice to return the next morning. I start banging on the door like a lunatic. There`s no way I can take another day off work to return for the sake of this $2. They let me in. I am advised that the visa will take 5-10 business days to process. I tell them I am leaving the province in a week. Can the passport be mailed to me? I am told they only ship within province at a standard rate of $20 because otherwise shipping charges would be too difficult to figure out. I need to make the decision now whether to ship it or pick it up in person. I ask them if it processes before Friday if I can pick it up and get my money back for shipping. The woman points to a line she just had me sign that reads "absolutely no refunds for anything." I tell the woman that this is ridiculous, that the woman I called to have the price confirmed should have advised me that in two days that price would go up $2, as the entire process has inconvenienced me and will have cost me up to an extra $100 in extra shipping, money orders, and in putting me behind schedule in my plans to leave the province by the Friday. No apologies. Nothing. With an expired metre waiting for me outside due to not wanting to lose my spot in the queue, I am cursing India. "India, already I hate you." Things that make you go "Wahhhhhhh". When I explained my dilemma to my supervisor on my last day of work, she told me "only these things would happen to you" (apparently she remembers the deer accident dilemma in rural New York from last November).
- I`ve skimmed a considerable number of travel blogs these last few months while preparing for a departure of my own. A common theme I see in all of them is the difficulty experienced in coming to terms with the loss of job security. A few months back, as I read this, I thought to myself: "that`s the easy part." Boy was I in for a shocker this past Friday when I packed up my sad looking box of office supplies and walked sadly toward my Murkle. This was only reinforced half an hour ago when I went to get a prescription filled and the woman entering the details into the computer looked at me and said: "Wow, you have really good benefits. $2 only." I looked at her like a sad puppy dog and replied, "I know." The fact that these great benefits expire on Friday hits me like a pound of rocks. Last week I had dental work done and got a bill for $600, asking me to pay the $9 amount that my insurance didn`t cover. On Saturday, I`m on  my own. Things that make you go "Wahhhhhhhh."

- I bought an Ipad for the trip about three months ago. I accidentally plugged it in to my roomate`s apple laptop to breathe it life. Now it will only respond to her apple ID. I got frustrated and threw it into a corner for the past three months. This morning I blew the dust off and gave it another go. It`s reading my own email address now but I can`t remember the password I would have entered. I can`t get into it and there`s no option for a password change. Things that make you go "Wahhhhhhhh."

- Typhoid Shortage. Yes, that`s right. The one vaccination I needed and it just so happens that it is not to be had in Cornwall/Ottawa. How do I know this? Because I`ve called a gazillion pharmacies, who apparently get their drugs from the same supplier. The oral dose is on back order, and the vaccination is out/recalled. Things that make you go "Wahhhhhhhh." Anti- malarial pills? Got a prescription for three month`s worth. $519... $246 after benefits kick in. Only to lead to the inevitable rumbly belly. Things that make you go "Wahhhhhhhhhh".

- So I`m feeling pretty sorry for myself and having just said my good- byes to a friend I`ve had in Ottawa for the greater part of two plus years, as he was on his way to Vegas for the week, I decide--- where better to drown my sorrows then in my number one comfort food: The McDonald`s Smarties McFlurry. I`m sitting in the drive thru... my sorrows about to be washed away in a cup of soft serve, hot fudge, smartie crunch explosion. Discontinued. Check the Brookdale location. Discontinued. Try our new Drumstick flavour instead. My hate of ice cream cones and waffles is right up there with rodents, bodily fluids, pharmacuetical sales, and the Indian Embassy at this point. Things that make you go "Wahhhhhhhhh. "

14 days to departure. I`ve done no planning for the trip. My passport is being held hostage. The workaholic that I am, I`m experiencing anxiety and a need to be payrolled somewhere/anywhere. 7 days of antibiotics that leave me with symptoms which require further meds to treat, and I now feel a sore throat coming on. I`m on "vacation" in Cornhole, my only option for driving home is through Montreal and that stirs an unthinkable amount of anxiety in me. I have a list of items from Wal-mart that I could pick up for the trip such as deet (since anti-malaria pills are still up for debate), toothbrush (since my current one is strep infested), but it being just past the end of the month, I am too scared to go there because I am worried I will officially self slip myself into the same category as those who frequent there (my ex. clients). On a positive note, I am entitled to free masssages for the rest of the week, there`s a cute little coffee shop around the corner from the condo that I can now appreciate, and I get to spend my days with a needy kitten Gretchen who worships the ground I walk on. Where will tomorrow bring me? I don`t know. But that`s half the fun of the adventure, right?