Anjuna, Vagator and Chapora

Beloved --

Okay. I know how to beat this heat game. I get up at 5:30am, shower and pack. I down a canned Nescafe Latte that I bought last night. I hit the bus stand before 8:00am and catch the local bus (7 rupees) to Mapusa. All goes well until the transfer to Anjuna Beach. The bus is sardines all the way, with school kids and resort workers (I guess) heading west to the Arabian Sea. I feel guilty for my backpack, but I can't move it out of anyone's way. I'm anxious, but no one seems annoyed. The bus empties as we reach Anjuna town. I hop off at the first place I recognize from the "Lonely Planet" guide book and book a room at the Villa Anjuna about 200 meters from the beach. I have a delicious breakfast of yoghurt, muesli, honey and hot chocolate. By 9:30am I figure I've beat the odds, but it's starting to get hot. I take a guiltless nap, figuring I've done a good day's work just getting here.

After waking up around noon, I head for the beach. I'm dripping sweat after 20 meters and in a daze from the airless heat. That's probably why I'm vulnerable to one of the slicker con artists I've met on this trip.

He walks up to me at the end of my climb up from the beach. He starts talking about my right ear. Thinking he was being helpful and knowing that I typically have gobs of SPF 40 in my ear lobes, I start to rub it off, thanking him. Before I could say "What the hell?!?" he's going at my ear with a couple of ivory colored probes. He's pulling out enough "ear wax" to make a votive candle. In the middle of the wax there is a "stone." (I know that none of the wax or stones are mine, having just showered and thouroughly Q-tipped myself.) He then produces his credentials--a card in rough English. He is a "Certified Ear Stone Remover!" Further, according to his card, he expects payment of 250 rupees for each "ear stone" he removes. Before I can think twice he as four--count 'em--four earstones for a total "treatment" cost of 1,000 rupees (that's $20 at today's exchange rate). I give him 100 rupees for his magic, but he is unhappy and stalks me for about an hour. He finally disappears when I pull out my cell phone and start "dialing the tourist police." A lucky ploy. It's worth carrying a dummy cell phone for!

(Picture above is Anjuna Beach with a sun-bathing bovine.)

I love you and miss you all,

Jim