A PLACE CALLED KILLA
somehow not a bad day at all
hello world
from an easy late afternoon
in the green brown world
under the canopy of the trees at Killa
on the head below the fort at Ratnagiri
while Hindi for “fort” is “Killa”
so this gentle village
nestled softly in the curve of greenery beneath the fort
is called Killa
where i’ve landed pretty smoothly into village life
and village life is, for me, the best of India
...
i thought i was going to the big town, Ratnagiri
yet here i am
over the hill from the city
in the easyness
...
i thought i’d stay, maybe, two days, before moving on
yet it’ll be more like seven
here at the Konkanratn Homestay
...
so here i sit
while birds twitter and bugs buzz and eagles soar
and all is good
though, by rights, maybe it shouldn’t be
i mean, nothing has gone well today
yet its pretty pleasant to be extra weary
and have nothing needs doing
...
so where should i begin
on my list of woes that failed to woe me
the suckingnesses that did not sink me
the downs that did not down me
where should i begin?
the terrible nights sleep?
or the failure to find a next berth after here?
that my gout is up to 7, if not 8?
or with the impossibility of linguistic communication?
or maybe with my aching legs ?
yet i just walked 20k
pretty much by mistake
and the question i kept asking myself
towards the end of yet another venture begun
as an epic saunter
yet concluded
as an epic trudge
the question i kept asking myself was
why don’t i feel tired?
how come my head is impervious to so much of this relentless sun?
because i walked in the high heat round midday for almost six hours
at least, when i wasn’t waiting, with hopping frustration, for a
bus i didn’t know how and where to get
or taking a quick luxuriating break in a chai shop
so i really should have been, and should now be
a sight more tired than i was and am
for which i have no explanation
while the stark language issue is at the heart of much of this unsuccess
for few of the locals speak English
some passing travellers in the restaurants might
but the locals out there in the boonies
they don’t
and you know what?
it was very the-boonies out there in the woods beyond the mangroves
where i was looking for a homestay or three
with no map
for i had, crucially, elected to leave my tablet back in Killa
so it was rather galling to finally get back
after the final trudge
down the drab big-roaded last gasp of Ratnagiri
up the leafy green hill
through the wide gap in the walls of the old fort
and down the quaint rock steps
back to my homestay
and my laptop
yes it was rather galling to find
that my instinctive navigation was pretty damn good but
alas
just not quite good enough
for i had
in fact
at one point
been right near and even between the three target homestays
[a homestay being a low-rent b’n’b]
the places i could go stay
out there in the jungly woods by the Aare-Ware beach
[pronounced, unlikelily, “arry-warry”]
each of which must have had no signage
like none
because i can now see on the map where i walked
and, yeah, i was right close to all of them
so i could’ve got sorted for next place to stay
but i wasn’t
and aren’t
and only traipsed on, oblivious
to wander up that beach
fail to communicate with a local
digging / stealing sand from the beach
by loading it onto a big cart to be pulled by two
enormous white oxen
and therefore getting the wrong directions
as has happened many times before
because, in India, you have to watch it with getting directions
because Indians, i believe, think its rude not to try to help you
even if they don’t know
which cultural-difference has had me wandering a few farflung boonies in my time
yet it wasn’t the wrong directions that sent me out at 9 a.m.
through the filthy rubbish-caked industrial fishing village / town
for miles along that long winding green sun-dappled road
through those friendly smiling waving villages
over those expansive bridges, with their wide-open vistas of river and mangroves
down that attractive lane of trees and occasional houses
along the huge empty beach
up that next attractive lane
which suddenly ended for no reason
next some abandoned prawn farms [i think]
meaning i had to proceed
while getting bloodied by passing thorns
on a smaller and smaller lovely country path
which, to my amazement,
suddenly issued me out on to the main road...
so, to cut a very long story shorter
what i’m trying to say to you is that
despite the fact i achieved nothing
consummated no plan
found no next
and only wandered a highly convoluted road to nowhere and failure
for twenty whole kilometres minimum
under a proper hot sun
and clearly defeated myself by not taking a means of navigation
what i’m saying is
that this
the fishing town, the winding road, the chai shops,
the river bridges, the orchards, the thousand greens
the lanes, the beach, the omelette, the wood, the bus back
was all good
this, was a great day
...
...
...
...
in other news
i used to say
one beer is a waste of money
five beers is a valid investment in your own future
...
but now i say
one coffee is a waste of money
five coffees is a valid investment in your own future
…
…
yet there’s currently no beer
and little coffee
in my life
…
…
…
in other news
if you see the second photo
half of which is light
well the next thing that happened was …
i got walloped and drenched
right there
by a freak wave
like had never happened to me before
and was lucky to keep my footing
