Whose house is this?

I had to stop off for the night last night as the road was getting quite lumpy and it was getting late in the afternoon, ended up stopping in a small village called Potul (I only found this out after asking people where I actually was and pointing on the map). After riding straight past a town called Kannad an hour before and thinking I could make it to Aurangabad I wish I had stopped, I think this village isn't somewhere tourists go often as there is actually nowhere to stay, no shop, just a few houses and a road.

On asking around though, an older lady told me she could rent out her place as she had another place at the back of the house she could stay in, it's a pretty basic house, but luxury compared to the place she stayed in last night as I've just found out this morning!

The hut the owner stayed in last night.

It's just made of corrugated metal and palm leaves, I said sorry when I saw her just now because I felt bad I'd made her sleep in there just for 200rs, especially as she bought me round a vegetable dal and some achar round last night! But she reassured me that's where her friends and family stay if they come to visit so I don't feel too bad now if she expects them to stay in it!

This is a strange little place, it's just a small village based around a small road that runs through it, but there doesn't seem to be any boundaries to people’s properties, they're just sort of all over the place and overlapping. I sat outside a bit this morning when I woke up and just saw people popping in and out of each other’s huts and houses, I don't know if they're one big family or just really friendly neighbours but it's kind of nice to see.

Another strange thing is that there are concrete houses next to an old tin hut that's next to a brick house, there's no higher or lower class areas like you get in towns, it really makes for an interesting walk around and makes it very hard to find your way back, maybe that's why I saw so many people popping in and out of different huts, they couldn't find their place either!

From my on/off travelling journal November 5th 2010

Potul, Maharashtra, India

Russian Mafia?

So today was a beach day with the girls, and we hadn't been on there for more than 5 minutes when a young girl in a blue dress came over carrying what looked like the entire stock from a local shop.
The first thing she said was "Where you from?", "England" we said.
"Ahhhh, London is groovy baby yes?", she said almost before we finished telling her which had us all in stitches.
She quickly followed with "Want to buy something? Cheap as chips, cheaper than Primark for you".

After we caught our breath the girls started to look through her inventory, I couldn't believe the stuff she was carrying, sarongs, sarees, jewellery, beaded bracelets, girls tops, everything.
The girls decided to look keep her happy because she had made us laugh so it just seemed rude to ignore her or tell her to go away as you do with all the other 20 or so sellers you see in the short time you’re on the beach!
At least she was making an effort!
As we chatted to her we found out she was actually 14, she had been taken out of school at 12 to go selling for her parents on the beaches of Goa, her parents live in Chennai on the opposite coast of India!
Her name was Nikita.

Nikita

Nikita was expected to spend 5 months of the year working for and sleeping in a beach hut shop in Harmal, Goa sending the money to her parents in Chennai.
I actually learnt a lot from her in the hour or so she was trying to sell her items to us.
She had her nose pierced which she explained was for good luck when you become an adult and leave childhood behind, when I pointed out she was only just 14, Nikita told me when she went home in April she would be meeting the man she would be marrying in June!
We asked her if she would want to wait a while before marrying someone, but she said she just wanted to settle down now and have children to look after. I do respect other cultures, but I don't know where I stand on this as it seemed more forced on her and sounded script like, rather than something she really felt.

She said she could probably earn 1000rs a day which is about £11.50, but out of that, 25% goes to the police in bribes to let them sell on the beach for a day, or a minimum of 150rs depending on what stock she had sold. And another 25% went to the Russian mafia.
Errrr excuse me?
Nikita told us that the Russian mafia owned a lot of property in Goa, that they then rented to the locals to run as shops and restaurants. They charge them rent as well as taking a percent of the takings each week.
They use the property and shops to launder money into Indian accounts that then gets digitally transferred, clean, back to the motherland!!!
I really didn't believe her at first until I chatted to a waiter while having dinner who said that the Russian mafia actually owned the restaurant we were eating in, he was more surprised we hadn't heard about it as it's no secret in Goa.
Well, I've been her just over a week and something new still surprises me each day. I guess that's India, you just have to accept that it has its own way for everything and you either embrace it, or are repulsed by it. After getting over the culture shock, I think I could start to embrace it actually.

(Yes the girls bought a sarong each, and after getting in and out of the sea and then laying on them a few times, they had lovely dyed legs!)

From my on/off travelling journal February 13th 2008
(My first ever week in India)
Harmal, Goa, India

Landing in Bombay

The taxi from Mumbai Int. to Colaba was pretty uneventfull, it was kind of nice actually, as it was a night time landing there were no beggars at the traffic lights knocking on the window asking for money or food, no one at the lights selling maps, cd's, VHS's and flags!
It was also nice, not landing in the midday sun, stuck in a traffic jam, in a cramped 1950's car with no aircon!
It was totally different though driving past hundreds of people asleep on the road, paths and on cars. There were beds dragged outside onto the streets with four people piled onto a metal framed, army style single bed.
Strange, but really didn't surprise me, being India and all.
It was still absoulutely blistering hot and humid, it still smelt like a thousand festival toilets driving past the slums surrounding the airport and it was still awesome being back to my second home!

It was about 3am when I jumped out of the taxi at the Gateway to India monument in Colaba, I walked up to Aurther Blunder road where I normally find a cheep room to sleep for a couple of nights but the only two places open were full.
As I came out the second place a kid ran up to me with a guesthouse business card in his hand and told me "Single rooms this way", so I followed him round the corner to a door with a lift behind it that had a sign saying delight guest house.

Damn, no parrots?

He was obviously a lower caste Indian looking at his clothes and feet so I got out my wallet to give him some ruppees for taking me to the guesthouse when another kid ran up to him and just laid into him, hitting and slapping him and shouting at him. I got in the lift, the newer kid came in too and tried to take me up but I kept the door open for the first kid.
Once I'd got checked in, I gave the lower caste kid 20 rupees and the second higer caste kid I told he could have nothing so he sat in the guesthouse communial area sulking as I went off to get some kip for the night.


From my on/off travelling journal October 30th 2010
Mumbai, India