Gokarna

After five nights in Palolem Beach, I caught a local train south to Gokarna, in the state of Karnataka. It was a bit lonely to leave Nancy, so I was very happy to meet two new friends while waiting for the (late) train: Yael, Israeli, 2 months India, and Marcelle, German, 2 weeks India, 11 month journey.

The train tickets were general boarding, with no guarantee of a seat. When it arrived I had to push and pull my way aboard, ignoring the fact that my huge backpack was offsetting gravity and acting as a body guard against competing Indian bodies. I made it on with Yael and Marcelle, plopped my bag down, and stood in the aisle. As the Indian families and young men filling the benches looked me over, I too eyed them with curiosity. I noticed at the first few stops that when people got up to exit, others appeared to seamlessly take their places, as if it were all planned out ahead of time. Eventually I encouraged a little girl in a sequined pink princess dress to scoot over and I squeezed onto the bench. When she got off at the next stop, I found myself with butt room and a nice Mangalore family to speak to about their pilgrimmage to Goa. The scenery out the window was really beautiful (in between seemingly endless tunnels). The landscape is very lushess green from palm trees, rice paddies, and jungley plants and ochre from the earth of the paths and roads and the peoples' houses. Every now and then we crossed a broad river.

We stayed near the many-templed town of Gokarna at Om Beach, so named because its bays are shaped like the Om symbol. After one night in a Rs 100 woven palm frond shack with a communal bathroom, the sink of which consisted of a barrel of dirty water, we decided to share a nice bungalow with attached bath up above the beach. It was quiet and calm on the porch among the plams and banana trees, the waves rhythmic in the background.

One morning I hiked a trail overlooking the sea to the next beach over. I was greeted by butterflies as I entered thought the cow-proof gate and found a sweet little beach with a small settlement just on the other side of the trees from the beach. I met three lovely beings who were renting a little house from the local family (the grandmother, who brought us a pineapple, apparently has to chase the monkeys from the rice fields each morning). Sunil and Biju (of Kovalam, Kerala, India) and Christina (of Germany) invited me to join them for breakfast, and of course I accepted. They buy their food in town, knock coconuts from the trees with long sticks, sing songs, do yoga on the beach, and cook over a fire. Sunil had decorated the little house with flowers and leaves for Duwali (see next blog), and their shrine to Shiva and Bob Marley peeked out the door. I felt like a queen in this paradise as they fed me egg scramble with toast, black coffee, bananas, pineapple with chili powder, and fresh coconut milk. It was inspiring to speak with friendly folks living simply and happily.