We took breakfast in the Tourist Hostel (Chit-Chat) café as usual, and as usual The Police (rock band) provided the musical accompaniment. We wandered up to the cinema which should have changed to screen a new film, but we were misled as “Escape to Victory” was still showing.
We had a browse in a hotel bookshop on the waterfront and I bought a “Teach Yourself German” book to usefully kill time in future. It had pictures which made it easy to follow and rekindled my knowledge from my German language lessons at Isleworth Grammar School in Isleworth. I had got a D at O-Level (A, B, & C were passes) so the terrifying Mr Stevenson had not done a great job.
We walked a large circuitous route around the outskirts of Panaji where crude houses were spaced out on lush lawns in the shade of palm trees. Locals called “hello bubba”, as we passed by. Water buffalos with long, red-painted horns grazed near the dwellings as we followed the red dirt track passed many Catholic cross monuments bearing the inscription “INRI”.
The letters “INRI” are initials for the Latin title that Pontius Pilate had written over the head of Jesus Christ on the cross (John 19:19). Latin was the official language of the Roman Empire.
The words were “Iesvs Nazarenvs Rex Ivdaeorvm.” Latin uses “I” instead of the English “J”, and “V” instead of “U” (i.e., Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judaeorum). The English translation is "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews." The Early Church adopted the first letters of each word of this inscription “INRI” as a symbol. Throughout the centuries INRI has appeared in many paintings of the crucifixion.
At a chemist (pharmacy) we took the opportunity to stock up on medical supplies, especially Lomotil tablets for diarrhoea (Lomotil is a combination of two medicines: Diphenoxylate and Atropine, which slows down gastrointestinal movement and bowel function. It also relaxes the gastrointestinal muscles to prevent spasms).
We made it back to the Chit-Chat just in time for the dinner time spin of The Police vinyl LP. I had a prawn curry for a change, and it was very good in taste and value. Including rice, it was only 8 Indian Rupees.
Today on our walk we had stopped to watch some road construction in progress. This was a very crude process. A layer of stones had been spread out and compressed by a steam roller, and on to this bed was sprayed a thin surface layer of runny liquid tar. The labourers then hurled loose gravel onto this wet film of tar with gusto and great clouds of dust.
This was all accompanied by much hooting and commotion as the road was still open to traffic and every now and then a lorry would zip across between the shouting workers. As usual, most of the donkey work was done by women.
After lunch we collected our bags from the lobby of the Flamingo Hotel, had a coffee in the Tourist Hostel Chit-Chat café by the bus station and reported to the bus terminal at 15:30 hrs. The bus to Mangalore was in and despite a bit of misdirection from “helpful” locals, we got on the right one.
It was indeed a luxury bus with brown imitation leather reclining seats and leg room. George and I sat behind a Dutch bloke with a hearing defect and his girlfriend, while Martin sat next to an obnoxious local who oiked him out of the window seat, backed by the logic of an illogical numbering system.
In front of Martin was a pair of German beach bums. One was a 6’6” exhibition smoker and the other was a middle-aged wretch who was trendily clad in youthful beachwear and clinging on to the vestiges of youth for grim death!
The bus trip was fast and just too bumpy to comfortably sleep. At the Goa-Karnataka Border there was a Customs search of the bus looking for smuggled alcohol. There was only one enjoyable aspect of the journey and that was the snack stops where we gorged on boiled eggs, bananas and tea.
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