Getting to Goa is easy, but getting out is another story.

So I arrived in Goa last Saturday, or was it the Saturday before that, or the one before that. It seems like I have been here for years or at least forever.
The journey from Kalhapur was horrific, one part of the road was so unroad that it took me 4 hours to cover 40kms and in fact I didnt stop or get off the bike for five bloody hours! And the dust and the huge trucks aimed directly at little me! But they all love seeing a mad white guy on a motorcycle in the middle of nowhere and try their best not to hit me! Sorry about all the exclamation marks (!) but everything causes me to exclaim!
And trhen as the song says "The bear came over the mountain" and there were waves of bright green mountains floating away into the distance and scattered clouds scattered lightly and birds singing and I was in Goa and it was a different India, like Israel before 1967. So I toddled off to find my cousin Ariel and Tali You see, I do have a cousin everywhere! And when I found him they welcomed me and I spent the night there and most important, I had a shower there.
The next day I set off to find Arambol and I did and now I am stuck. And the fucking place is not even marked on the map!!! I was going along this green winding jungle road and suddenly I was in Arambol and it was like all the othe villages I'd been through on my way here but this one did look different, well there were lots of white faces for one thing. So anyway I met a girl and she needed petrol but wasnt sure how to ride the moped and asked me, in English to go with her to the petrol station which I did but they didnt have any petrol, I told you this is all about India. At that she spat out a Kus Emak so we continued in Hebrew and she showed me the center af town where I was kidnapped by an enterprising young Indian gentleman who showed me a great room where I have happily settled in. That evening my upstairs Israeli neighbours introduced me to the joys of "Garras" and I am totally happy and content.
This is Homers" Land of the Lotus Eaters from The Odyssy" - for those who dont know what I am talking about read the Odyssy or ask me. Any way in the Land of the Lotus Eaters, if you eat of the lotus flower you lose all desire to ever move again and this is what happens here, in the little town of Arambol. You take a hit or a puff and you are lost, you become an Archi-Satlan, a high priest of garrras, a rabbi of bongs. And you never want to leave.
Of course there are many important decisions to be made each day. First of course is do we have enough garras, then where do we eat breakfast, lunch, dinner and what do we eat and whose going to be there and...Take another hit..and just one more before we leave ..and one more!!
And I love the cows. Its not like the big city where you see a cow here or there, here they share the roads and narrow lanes wiyh you and sometimes walk into the restaurant where you are just starting your steak. They fight in the streets and send the basta (stall) owners into hysterics and they poke the bulls with sticks to chase them away from their basta. And they crap all over and they stink up everything and I love them. In Denver I visited a mall that had a display of cow statues but these are the real macoy, not painted.
Anyway, under the circumstances it has not been easy actually sitting down and writing this thing but this is all I could manage (need another hit!) . I will eventually escape from here but if you dont hear from me for a couple of weeks, dont worry, just take another toke or hit or whatever.