Traveling in India, you quickly realize that you must – under all circumstances – remain flexible and go with the flow as much as possible. The difficulty in doing this, though, is knowing when to become rigid so you don’t get eaten alive as well. It’s an intuitive feeling one begins to possess - India is a country of extremes that teeters it on a fine wedge: a beautiful palace stands next to slums; a woman is ornately dressed, but doesn’t have any teeth; a rich man builds himself a 40-storey tower of glass to live in, just for himself, while a beggar with no legs goes hungry; one of the oldest civilizations in the world, propagators of major religions, has citizens that defecate on the street, right next to the roaming cows, in plain view. And that’s the key – the dichotomies are all in plain view, not embarrassingly concealed, swept under the rug; and it’s enough to make you bonkers.
In any case, remaining flexible after three bus connections in order to traverse about 40 kilometers, we made it from Palolem to the Margao train station. We had a bit of a wait ahead of us
central train stationsince our train was late, so had a late lunch. We had to observe a few people to figure out how to order, then deduced at which counter to do so. I walked up and put in my order, paid, and received a little piece of paper with my order on it.
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