7th Jan 13        Day 5   

Maoser and me set off for a walk outside the hotel gate. An elderly guard in his official hotel uniform salutes us and we are catapulted out into the real world. It is busy, warm and dusty, the single track road lined with shops and a surge of assistants who greet us joyfully.

‘Just look, no buy, just see, Sir, Sir, Mem, Mem.’ It would be rude not to speak and join in. They give us head rolling smiles but as we walk determinedly saying ‘no thanks’ they don’t over hassle and reluctantly let us wander on.

The shops are square, low, rendered brick houses. Some flat roofs, some thatched with palm. A few are dilapidated; one is being painted bright turquoise. A man sitting at an elderly hand sewing machine offers to make us whole outfits in a day. Brightly coloured shirts, jewellery  scarves, fruit - with all the accompanying smells and chatter of local small shops line the road on both sides. We are perfectly safe but as we don’t want to buy we must keep moving. An elderly woman asks us for money, the first approach we have had here. We say no and she follows us for a short time but soon gives up. Her clothes are clean and I try to justify my refusal by saying it would just bring more people if we gave her something. Really though it’s because I would feel vulnerable getting my purse out and I haven’t any small notes. I have tried to change some rupees for lower denominations for tips and gifts but the hotels are unwilling to do it. They say they don’t have any.

The jungle walls the back of the shops but small palm covered houses are scattered in every clearing. Becoming lost among the trees would be difficult. I ask if I can photograph one house. It isn't wealthy but there are hens and tethered kids in the yard and an air of comfort so different from the extreme poverty in the big cities like Delhi and Mumbai.

We pass a group of women digging a plot of land overseen by a man who is sitting down. I ask for a photo of them and they laugh and pose. 

They say, ‘give me money.’

‘No, you’ll only give it him.’ More laughter. 

He says ‘give me money.’

‘No you’ll only spend it of booze.’ I show them the photo and they laugh again returning to their digging.  

We do a circular walk ending back at the beach. Maose bends down to stroke a calf and as he puts his fingers out towards its curious nose, a woman tries to sell him some bananas to feed it. He refuses and again we try to rationalise our decision not to give. It leaves us vaguely irritated of course.

Back inside the hotel grounds we swim and laze about round the pool with the girls. We have our toe and fingernails painted by a sad lady whose husband has left her. Suj has an Ayurvedic massage but declines the shapeless green dressing gown which guests wear after they have been indulged. The hotel is quiet and restful, no loud pop music or raucous Brits making holiday noises. A Russian woman displays her bum cheeks in a bikini thong as she bends over to play with a toddler in the pool making us all whisper and giggle. It seems quite brazen in this community which still expects a modest dress code underwritten by polite notices for guests in the restaurant. But it is hot and friendly and there is time to relax. I like it.

This evening we drink some white Indian wine, ‘Sula.’ It is served very cold, is light and not too dry. Of course the alcohol sponsors serious discussions about India, the state of the nation, politics and global economies.