Only a little more than an hour and I must check out from the hotel. Yesterday I felt feverish and had a small cough, so New Year’s celebrations consisted of resting in bed and sleeping a lot. Due to nonexistent sound insulation I was forced to listen to the bands playing out of tune on the hotel yard, but still managed to sleep a good ten hours with a little help from my small, white friends.
Coming to Goa was definitely worth it, but I’m not sure if I want to do it again. I’m less than fond of the atmosphere of cheap entertainment, tourist herds and people trying to live directly on my expense. If I was coming back, it would be with someone special an during low season, probably still somewhere outside these tourist centers. I now remember why I don’t like them.
So back to Bangalore for two weeks, after which I am heading towards Oulu to see my loved ones. It is great to be out around the world, but being here alone becomes less and less appealing as weeks go by. I hope to have someone with me the next time I travel somewhere for a longer time.
— (about two hours later)
I just arrived at the airport in a hurry, only to find that the flight is delayed by one and a half hours. So instead of running to the plane I will have plenty of time before they even start boarding. The security checks seem to be there just for the show, at least by the standards of European ones. The amount of metal I have in my bag is something equivalent to a mid-sized aircraft carrier, but no one was even remotely interested to see what’s really inside there. Or maybe they have better X-ray machines than us.
Finding the gate with some much time was easy, but I could have run into trouble if I was in a real hurry. The announcement told me that the right gate is in the first floor, but it took me a while before remembering that the Indian definition of “1st floor” is actually “the first floor above ground level”. To me this is already the second floor, but I guess I am the one who has to adjust here.
Goa airport is about as small as the one in Oulu, with less than ten gates and no apparent terminal borders. Still the amount of announcements exceeds the frequency I have gotten familiar to in places like Frankfurt and Arlanda, both at least ten times the size of this one. Unfortunately all the echoing around the building makes them difficult to understand, so mostly I just try to spot familiar names and codes from the noise.
I could easily say I have already written more than enough, but one more thing is bouncing around in my mind. As I write, I can’t help of thinking about the variety of clothing the locals present. Colorful sarees, jeans, semi-formal wear, monk robes (a monk on a Bullet looks wicked crazy), kurtas, brand clothes, everything is there. I am currently watching a guy walking around in formal suit trousers, skin-tone shirt with a couple of buttons open, a turban on his head and bright white skating shoes, all in one. Maybe not the most stylish combination, but definitely a bold one – and why not, if you want to?
Tags: holiday, medication, oh bugger, people in india, sleep, time, travel, ways of working