Diveagar

At the beach this past weekend, I found a screw in my curry. We joked that I should call the waiter over and ask the waiter for a screw driver.

We boarded the roof of a wooden motorboat that took us to a fort surrounded by water. We were asked to pay ten extra rupees and when we pretended we didn’t understand, incensed that the fee might be because we are foreign, we were told to come down below because of something about the police. How much we miss by not being able to speak Marathi! Though Prishuk didn’t seem to understand the captain’s reasoning either. Eight boats full of people met us upon our arrival and the sole entrance to the fort was teaming with people.

In what seemed like complete confusion, people were exiting the motorboat and climbing onto a sailboat as the people who had exited the fort and boarded the sailboat climbed simultaneously onto the motorboat from which we streamed.  For what seemed like hours, we floated in the hot sun as the boat waited to near the steps of the fort. Boats cut in front of us, and the man who stood by the mast, seemingly in command, smoked his beady and watched.

When the boats ahead of us had emptied and reloaded, we neared the slippery, watery steps and were essentially thrown from the boat. My feet slipped into the ocean, but hands pulled me up and pushed me forward, up the stairs. My eye, red, swollen and seeping pus since Friday throbbed painfully, feeling grainy each time I blinked. On the boat many people had surreptitiously snapped my photo. I didn’t want my face to be seen, red, swollen, uncomfortable and here I was entering family albums as little boys and men’s wives were thrust beside me for a photograph.

Mikael taught me how to take a picture of the moon. He has the funniest method for picture taking, not looking and just pointing the camera while keeping his arm long by his side. It is all about chance. I like that.

Mikael, me, Prishuk, and Brent

I am surrounded by good people. My intuition is improving I think.