Frank is concerned that I won't make it back to Mumbai in time to catch my flight. He says if we stay here tomorrow the time is too tight to allow for any accident or interruption in the schedule. That means we should leave tomorrow morning instead of waiting until Monday. I don't want to leave that early but he is right. I would never be able to afford to buy another flight home if I miss the one I have booked. But that means I will miss connecting with Rajeev tomorrow as we had planned, which I have been excited about since last night. But I think I will have to let Rajeev down. After a leisurely breakfast, I stroll up to the north end of the beach letting the waves wash over my feet. I miss the sea in Vancouver where I used to live. Toronto is on Lake Ontario, but it has no tides and the beaches have too high of a fecal count to risk swimming or wading in. I enjoy my walk as long as I can.
I reach the north end of the beach in half an hour. Here the ridge of hills we crossed to reach Palolem comes down to the sea. A river that flows along the base of this ridge empties into the sea. A small rocky jetty juts into the bay, separating the stream from the beach. I climb out onto the rocks and find another colony of thick-bodied, short legged purple crabs crawling slowly between the boulders. I watch them for a while before I climb into the outflow of the stream on the far side.
Frank had mentioned the stream and that I should check it out. Now I see why. This is paradise. The water is crystal clear and slightly turquoise in colour. The deepest part of the water is up to my upper chest and the current is just strong enough to be playful. The bottom is comprised of smooth white sand, like the sand on the beach but a bit coarser. The water is so clean and fresh, emerging right out of the jungle. I would never drink water in Canada, where all the fresh water systems are contaminated with Giardia parasites, but this water feels pristine. I play in it like a dolphin, jumping, ducking under and summer-saulting. I let the current carry towards the sea and swim back again.
All this activity has stirred up my insides and I have a sudden compulsion for a bowel movement. I would never make it back to the village in time and I certainly don't want to do it in this lovely stream, so I climb up the bank to a flat patch of open space, covered in waist-high yellow grass. There is a straight path that leads from the river into for forest. I don't want to go into the jungle, not knowing what I might find there. It would be best to leave my dump somewhere in the tall grass where it cannot be seen, but I realized at the last moment that tall grass is the perfect habitat for cobras and other jungle snakes that might be hunting for mice.
My options are limited and my insides are insistent, so I reluctantly squat and do my duty on the path. At least it is out in the open so anyone who happens to use this path can see it. I wipe myself as best I can with nearby leaves and walk back tot eh river to finish the clean up. I have not gone more than a few paces when I here a rustle in the bushes at the edge of the forest. I spin around not knowing what animal to expect. All I see the back end of a pig going back into the forest. The shit I left on the trail is gone.
I swim a while longer in the stream and then slowing make my way back to Palolem, to the beach restaurant where I find Frank enjoying a fruit smoothie on the patio. I tell him about my trip up the beach and the pig in charge on sanitation patrol. ‘Well, I guess I won’t be hungry for a while longer,’ he laughs.
We have our final evening meal in the restaurant with Jesse and Karen. We watch an incredible purple sunset. When it fades, we tell them we are leaving tomorrow, a day earlier than planned, and they take this in stride. There is a river of changing faces looking for a sea and one takes in the changes like passing clouds after a time. They ask us what we plan to do as soon as we get back. Frank will be preparing for medical school and I plan to do something about my hair as soon as possible.
There is another gathering around the campfire tonight. I look around for Rajeev in case he has been able to make it, but he doesn’t show up. Jesse asks me to sing some Canadian songs. I know some of the words and the tune to ‘Four Strong Winds’, some Gordon Lightfoot songs and ‘Both Sides Now’ by Joni Mitchell. He only knows the cording for ‘Four Strong Winds’ but since I only know one verse he returns to singing what songs others know. A stiff breeze comes up, bringing with it sprinkles of rain. The blowing smoke and ash changes direction again and again and eventually drives us back to our rooms for the night.
I pack before bed so I won’t have to do it in the morning. I lay out my cycling clothes. Frank does the same. “I guess this is it,” he says with a resigned grin. “Tomorrow we will start our journey home.” As much as I want to get back to a normal life and routine, earn money to repay my debts and regain my weight, I feel a sinking anxiety in my gut. I hate the uncertainty of making travel connections and the possibility of something going wrong.
PHOTO 1: Palolem Village in the morning
PHOTO 2: sunset at the beach
PHOTO 3: Jesse and Karen's van
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