In the Land of the Dancing Flames- Day 9

Calangute was an enterprising cultural roller-coaster of a town, and our ride was coming to an end. On the third of January, Bianca and I woke up early to have enough time for a leisure breakfast before we traveled to Vasco da Gama at noon. Named after the famed explorer, the city was founded in 1543. For us, Vasco was just a quick one-day layover before moving on to our next destination the following morning.

We decided not to stray too far from the guest-house and had breakfast in the restaurant next door. Simple enough. Away from the amazing beaches, Calangute was a hectic busy place that kept you on your toes. We wanted to avoid any possible mayhem and smoothly continue our journey.

As we were enjoying our breakfast in the open-air section of the restaurant, we heard the sound of crackling flames on the other side of the wall. A young guy was perched on the rooftop of the building beside us. He was cutting down and throwing dry palm fronds to his friend below, who then chucked them into a roaring fire in the middle of the courtyard.

Soon the flames rose above the wall, crackling and dancing in a mad bonfire that reached so high it began to scorch the branches of the trees above it. A lady began yelling at them. I could not understand what she was saying but she sounded rather alarmed and none too pleased by the dangerous turn of events outside her doorsteps.

The restaurant staff had also come out to see the spectacle. One of the guys ran across the rooftops and hooked a hose to a water tank. The other threw buckets of water into the flames. Once they got it under control, we all clapped. With a sheepish grin, the two rascals waved and chuckled embarrassingly. We could still hear the lady haranguing them for their antics, so they made themselves scarce and disappeared inside.

Bianca and I continued enjoying our breakfasts while exchanging amused looks.

"The action is non-stop in this adventure," I said.

"I'm just glad the lady said something. The trees are very close to the houses."

Travel is not all about the grand temples and extravagant festivals. Those simple moments can also create long lasting impressions for they are the vicissitudes of life, and the types of cultural tales that anthropologists try so hard to capture in their reports.

As the road unfolded, I peered at the world of Goa, its bustling activity in the heat. The commercial veins that ran through this ancient world still pulsated in modern-day India.

Everywhere I saw the overt expressions of their industry

and the colorful structures inspired by their metaphysical beliefs, which have not only influenced this land but also those beyond the Goan sun.

In Vasco, we found ourselves in a daze. This city was not a tourist destination and has retained its uniquely Indo-Portuguese character through the centuries. It was a city in between spaces. A Hopperian abstraction of the hauntingly liminal.

We went to bed early because we needed to make it to the station before dawn. Tomorrow a new adventure would begin. A train journey towards one of the most fabled cities of the Vijayanagara Empire: Hampi.

Dive into another section:

1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 4.3, 5.1, 5.2, 6.1, 6-8, 9

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