June 6th, 2011
As I lay in bed last night, uncomfortable in the heat, bothered by the things that crawl and aware of every sound for fear of burglars, I thought of the times I had felt this way. “You have been here before, Tonia. It will take a few days to find yourself at ease. Yes, this is a strange place, so far removed from the comfort of your own home, but you adapt. You always do. Listen to the rain. Go to sleep.”
When I arrived in Goa just after dawn yesterday, I watched as the ship yards, makeshift temples, stray dogs and Sanskrit marketing Western products passed. It rained hard on the drive from the airport and my pleasant driver wagged his head and smiled at me in the rearview, “monsoons,” he said.
My arrival at the office where I will be working was the succumbing point. Here I am, in the lush tropical coastline of India. I don’t look like those around me. I don’t understand the language. I don’t know where to find a market. I don’t have a sense of direction. I don’t know who I am here. But that means that I can be anyone.
A history washed away by the pouring rain.
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