Bagpacking Christmas in Goa

Hello people
I’m currently in Goa, Arambol to be precise, and am yet again sweating my arse off and loving every minute. Last time I wrote was Cochin I think? which feels like absolutely years ago now, time goes so quick but so slow all at the same time. We have completed most of our long journeys now (thank the lord) and are moving about by a mixture of scooter, rickshaw and sea.
After I last left you in Cochin, we headed a little further south along the backwaters to Alleppy where we stayed in a family’s house and experienced real Keralan life and possibly the most amazing food ive eaten in all of India. To get there though we really did ‘rough it’ per say and almost lost ourselves and our precious precious back to the mercy of the keralan river. The big taxi boat wed got dropped us off at the wrong side of the river to what we needed to be on, so we had the choice to either swim or find an alternative method. Naturally we went for the alternative, stumbling across a five year old boy who spoke perfect english and showed us to a tree where he said a ‘ferry’ came every five minutes to take people across. Relieved, we relaxed and put our bags down, looking out for a boat like the one we’d come on to take us across. Instead, along swam a man who looked as though had been dug up from a grave at least a century ago in a canoe that looked as though it was barely a float with his own weight. We looked at each other in despair, thinking that it would probably sink with one more of us on there, let alone all four of us and our massive bags that practically count for another person each. But he insisted we all got on and despite our protestations, we kneeled inside and prayed for dear life … Definitely the most hilarious/terrifying five minutes of m life so far.
From the homestay we went on to rent a houseboat, a massive expense but so worth it, where we experienced a real tropical thunderstorm and lizards aplenty, again along with food to rival the best restaurants. However, the fan in our room was so poor and the heat was so intense that both Frey and I woke up with our sleeping sheets soaked through with sweat, mosquito nets drenched and hair that looked as though it had just been under one hell of a shower. India is definitely the most difficult country to look in any way shape or form acceptable in because you are ALWAYS shining with sweat and smell like crap.
From there we caught a train down to Varkala, the first leg of which was an hour and a half for which we paid 7 rupees. 7 rupees is less than 10p. Absolute madness.
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Christmas this year

I first heard about it when dad picked me up from school. Stucked in traffic jam, we listened to the radio, it was ‘the news time’. Of course, they stared off with the most tasty and the most shocking bit.

Christmas is cancelled this year. At least in Britain.

‘What?’, I muttered, not really believing my ears. My father also seemed puzzled, judging by the crease that appeared on his forehead. He glanced at the radio as if it bites him if he touches it. I hurried up and increased the volume, trying not to miss the littlest piece of information.

‘… the  idea was brought up in Copenhagen, where the United Nations Climate Change Conference takes place… christmas was claimed to be ‘one of the causes of global warming’ as millions of electric-powered Christmas decorations are used every year, each one emitting additional heat into the atmosphere and causing overuse of the current energy… both Queen and Prime Minister had confirmed the event’s cancellation…protests against the decision are held in cities across Europe and North America…The crowd which gathered in Rome in front of the St. Paul’s Chapel…’

I listened to the bits of information which my mind could process, still doubtful.

‘They can’t cancel Christmas,’, said I, turning the radio off. They won’t play any Chritmas songs anyway. ‘Can they?’, I asked, hoping that dad will just comfort and pat me, saying that everything will be okay. Instead, his reply was quick and simple.

‘I don’t know,’ he sighed. ‘But your mother is going to be furious.’

And indeed she was.

‘Have you heard the news?!’, she exclaimed as soon as we had stepped through the front door. Normally I would not know what news she meant: it could be anything, from grandpa’s heart attack to George Clooney finding a new girlfriend. But today, we knew what she was thinking about. She meant THE NEWS.

‘Yeah… But chill out, mum, I’m sure it’s some kind of a–’

‘Joke?’, she interrupted me. ‘I doubt it, this is bloody serious! Take off your shoes, honey… I mean, what is Gordon Brown thinking? That he could just cancel Christmas, who is he to do that? Even bloody Gordon Ramsey would have been a better PM!’

I obeyed her command and stepped into the living room, my dad followed. Neither of us commented on mum’s political views. However, as we sat by the table, waiting for dinner to be served, it was clear that she hasn’t finished yet.

‘Oh, Harold, what are we going to do?’, she cried. ‘Everything’s arranged… All presents bought… YOU, don’t listen to this!’, she said, meaning me.

‘It’s not like I do believe in Santa, mum…’, I shrugged and turned the TV on. I wasn’t surprised to see THE NEWS on BBC.

My parents were talking in low voices, murmuring something about aunt Marge and cousin Barry. Oh, they must be seeing red. Barry won’t receive the newest, the fanciest and the most expensive mobile phone available in the world.

What a pity.

I focused on the speaker in the television. She was presenting arguments for and against THE IDEA, and I must say that I was now a little more convinced that it made sense. Generally, it seemed reasonable. Since the global warming gets our butts, and hasn’t been resolved yet, it is a wise thing to do to remove the reason. So, Christmas and its lights… Literally heating the atmosphere up. I have no idea how the ambassadors in Copenhagen came up with the ridiculous idea of canceling Christmas because of it and I don’t really care. But how come somebody had accepted it? The programme I was watching informed that almost half of the EU, as well as U.S, have agreed and the other half is still to decide.

‘This will cause strife, I tell you’, I voiced my thoughts, ‘it’s an important event in Christian calendar. Can they revoke it just like that?’

‘Maybe it will be postponed’, suggested dad. ‘I’ve read that Christ was in fact born in August. Why don’t we try celebrating it then?’

‘No spirit!’, shouted my mum from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of tapping bowls. ‘No snow!’

‘There is no snow now,’ said I. ‘And what would be the difference, if it was in August? I thought the idea was to cancel it.’

‘Oh, you know… Days are longer in summer, so there won’t be the need to light the lamps.’

I laughed. ‘Sorry, it makes no sense. Do you light them because it’s dark? Or because it looks nice?’ Just after finishing the question I heard my mobile phone ringing with Santa Claus’ famous ‘ho, ho, ho!’. ‘Moreover, there will be winter in Australia. It makes no difference.’

‘But winter in Australia is different to winter here’, my father defended his thesis, as I read the text message that I had just received. My friend, Lee, wrote:

‘lulz. no presents this year huh. undress the tree gurl or im informing the police ur breaking the law’

‘ur not having the xmas tree either, duh’, I texted her back and looked at my dad. Apparently he was waiting for answer.

‘Uhm, sorry, I wasn’t listening…’

My dad just rolled his eyes. Luckily, my mother saved me by entering with three plates of fried eggs and chips.

‘Ronnie’s not coming?’, I asked. Ronnie was my older brother. My mum shook her head.

‘Speaking of which, I bet he loves THE IDEA’, she commented. ‘Imagine how many turkeys it would save!’

I giggled. Ronnie’s vegetarianism wasn’t accepted fully by my parents, who considered it as another teenage extravagation.

We started to eat. The TV was still on, so was THE NEWS.

‘Oh, the Pope agreed!’, exclaimed m mum. ‘The world is going mad…’

My phone rang again. The ‘ho, ho, ho!’ signal sounded more grotesque than before.

‘danish rules dont apply to us chinese’, Lee wrote.

‘Hah, it seems like Lee’s having normal celebration’, said I.

‘Oh? Why is that?’

‘She says that >>Danish rules don’t apply to Chinese<<’.

My parents giggled. ‘Well said’, commented dad.

For a while, we ate in silence.

‘Let’s look for pros’, I broke it. ‘We’ll save up a fair amount next year. Ronnie won’t argue with you about the turkey. So much paper will we saved without Christmas cards! And we will save the world!’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ah.’

‘You’re not eager to save the world, are you’, I said bluntly. At least they won’t cancel the New Year’s Eve…’, I haven’t stopped looking for positive sides.

‘Let’s hope so.’

‘I won’t go to school…’

‘Oh no, schools are open during the what-it-used-to-be-Christmas, you’re going.’

‘Mu-um! I’m totally not going!’, I opposed.

‘Yes, you are.’

‘So let’s rebel! Let’s have a proper Christmas Eve! What a conspiracy!’, I exclaimed. ‘What d’you think?’

‘I think… You’re going.’

Well, considering that aspect of the new law, it was a really, really senseless one.

battle of generations

“Every generation revolts against its fathers and makes friends with its grandfathers”. In my opinion it is definitely truth. The same relation repeats among all generations. In order to illustrate it I will present “the battle of generations” in my own family.
My grandpa (a person who I highly admire) told me many times how it used to be in the past. He also mentioned how his relations with the parents looked like. You cannot even imagine how close it was to my actual situation. He was arguing with them, had different views of the world, was doing things to spite them – just like I do. My grandpa also told me few things about my father. I was extremely surprised to hear that a man against who I am revolting was a rebel too when he was younger.
An interesting fact may be that I discovered my family relations thanks to the grandfather. I think it is also significant when speaking about “the battle of generations”. I talk to my father every day, but I find out the facts about my relatives from a man who lives in a different city. It is demonstrating with whom I am able to communicate better. Of course it happens because of the roles of these people in my life. My father’s responsibility is to raise me well. I understand it, but I often argue with him due to his decisions or advices. The grandfather treats me more friendly. He is less serious and allows me to do things my father would not let me do. As an example, he gave me his old car to become my property when my father does not even want to borrow me his one for a moment.
I suppose that my “battle of generations” is very similar to what happens in every family. I also do not think that it used to be different in the past and that it would change in the future. The generations were revolting against their fathers and making friends with their grandfathers, they are doing so, and they always will.

Dangers of Conformity

I think the biggest subcategory of danger of conformity is mixing with a crowd. You don’t have many friends, because you’re an ordinary person. If you mix with a crowd you probably won’t see so many exciting things. Why? Because normal people do not do such crazy things. At work you will be a normal worker that has to always stay after hours. Why? Because when your boss tells that you “must do it”, you have to do it. You won’t say “NO!” like people, that are crazier than you are. Another danger of conformity can be travelling. When you are an ordinary tourist that goes skiing, you will not leave the beaten truck. The people, who do not mix with other people, would ride on much dangerous routes that are unfrequented. They would jump 5 meters etc. All these subcategories come down to one. It’s YOUR own style. You won’t see much in your life, you won’t feel adrenaline if you do things that normal people do, for example diving – it’s for people, that have their own styles. They always would feel adrenaline while jumping. Many people don’t know that they don’t have their own style. Maybe they don’t dress up like others, maybe they think “Oh! You are wrong, I have my own style!” Maybe I’m wrong, but if you think about what you did in your life you will say “Oh no! I settled into a groove!” Don’t cry, just think how you can stop it! Do something that not so many people do, that makes shivers on your back. Your life is more than standing up, dressing up, eating breakfast, going to school/work, going back from school/work, eating lunch, watching TV, having dinner, washing yourself and going to sleep…

Conformity?

Gosia (from Wild Child) shares her reflections on watching Dead Poets Society
The most dangerous aspect of being a conformist is that you can’t have your own style. You don’t have your own opinion about trivial things like an article in a magazine. It is better to be independent because if everybody is the same, the world will cease to exist. Conformity is dangerous, but do not think you should always say “no” when everybody says “yes”. Sometimes it is better to reach a compromise.

5 things that break my heart

1. Jónsi’s scream in ‘Ný Batterí’. Sipmly. Doesn’t have a reason I guess. It just is.

2. The photo of C.McCandless, the one in the brown jacket, the one I’ve put on my pasteboard (?tablica korkowa?). Only seeing the picture brings me to an paradoxical swirl of emotions I cannot really understand nor name. Every time my sight wanders by it I freeze, like it was reminding me of something I should have done, but I didn’t;  or something I should do, but I already know I won’t. Which is very disturbing.

3. The knowledge that one day, I will die for sure. Everybody dies. It’s undeniable.

It’s not that I’m scared to death (sic!) of what will happen when I kick the bucket. It’s just I’m having a great party here and I don’t want to leave. One day, it will be over. Which is as heartbreaking as  knowing it.

4. That the world is ruled by the verb ‘HAVE’ and ‘WANT’. All right, nothing’s wrong in them directly, but aren’t we overusing them? These two verbs seem to like each other very much since they often come together as WANT TO HAVE. Which is bad, bad, bad. Slaves of possesions and assured of neccesity of all of our wants, that’s what we become.

Another evil verb is, in my opinion, HATE and HURT. Have you noticed that the h-words (HAVE, HATE, HURT)  seem to be making us worse.  Shun them please. We ought to.

5. I guess I break my hear myself. Doing things (stupid/unnecessary/I wouldn’t have done normally/I don’t want to do but I do out of conformistic reasons/insincere etc) or being (lazy/a liar/cruel/egoistic etc). Well, maybe it doesn’t break my heart, but it rots it. And conciousness that I can perform such actions breaks it. I know that some of them are the charms of life, and yet…