Morning Time in Arambol, Goa

I woke up this morning to the sounds of roosters and scooters starting up. The sun is shining and its safe to open the windows (no mosquito's during the day). I drape a sarong around me and find my flip flops. I wander down the stairs of large guest house that we share with an extremely large family from Arambol (the beach we are staying at). I always stare at the courtyard and surrounding areas to see what my eyes will find. So far I have seen empty pop bottles of all kinds, old flip flops, chickens (living), pigs, 2 parakeets in a cage, old coconut husks, volunteer papaya trees, an old tire, old suitcases with wheels, and a close line full of clothes, today they happened to be our clothes.

I wander down the path a little further and see two men scrubbing a pig with sand and straw. I was wondering how they held the pig so still. I asked the mother of our small little community and she explained to me that it was her nieces baptism so they killed the pig in celebration. She was explaining this to me as she was sitting on a wooden stool with a knife coming out of the middle of it. She was using the knife to split the seashells that her two young daughters had collected on the beach earlier this morning. She said she is going to fry them up for lunch. Yum, sounds like clams to me.

I love to see how the locals of a fishing village use every part of the sea and the animal. As a tourist the options are the whole fish or prawns, but really there are all sorts of other foods that can be utilized from the sea.

India

The people are kind. Sitting on a beach surrounded by palm trees, little girls running around with Sunday dresses and bare feet. Dogs running in packs. Cows roaming from one side of the beach to the other, grazing on trash heeps. Lifeguards dressed in red, baywatch style. Everything is for sale in front of your beach chair. Sipping on a lime blended up.