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Goanetters visiting Viva Goa 2006 in Toronto, Canada on July 29, can use
the BMX booth as a meeting point. Please list your name on the message
board that will be provided, courtesy of BMX.
http://bmxgoa.com
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In search of Goan politeness
Beach-belt courtesy can be just skin deep
By Cecil Pinto
I finally got hold of the controversial Reader's Digest issue that pegged
Mumbai as the world's least polite city. For those of you not in the know,
here's a synopsis. The magazine sent out undercover reporters to check for
three tests of 'politeness' (a) People holding doors open for others (b)
Sales people saying 'thank you' to customers (c) Passers by helping to pick
up papers fallen out of a folder. After compiling the results from all 35
cities, New York was rated as the most polite and amchi Mumbai as the least
polite, in the July 2006 issue of Reader's Digest.
As can be expected all hell broke loose in India's commercial capital.
Every person who has ever felt Mumbai's warm embrace defended the city and
its people. Some fine pieces of writing emerged that showed the kindness of
the city, especially as it coincided with the cruel bomb blasts. Whether
the defense was about 'kindness', 'helpfulness' or 'politeness' is a bit
ambiguous but anecdotes of the humaneness of the city were cited in every
media. Jerry Pinto wrote a superb piece in the 8th July issue of Tehelka
magazine. In his concluding paragraph he quoted Suketa Mehta's essay in the
book Bombay Meri Jaan, "If you are late for work in Bombay and reach the
station just as the train is leaving the platfor, don't despair. You can
run up to the packed compartments and you will find many hands stretching
out to grab you on board, unfolding out from the train like petals. As you
run alongside you will be picked up, and some tiny space will be made for
you on the edge of the open doorway." Consider how Mumbaikars will somehow
make space, where none exists, as they empathize with the passenger who
might lose his job, or worse, if he is late. After you're in the train they
might even reprimand you for trying to get into a moving train, but first
they will help you in. These are the type of impolite, but helpful,
Mumbaikars I have come across in my many encounters with the city - and I
salute them heartily.
'Politeness' is a rather culture specific quality and difficult to measure
across different populaces. An orthodox Hindu will feel insulted if offered
an edible with the left hand, whereas an Arab feels compelled to burp
loudly to compliment the host for a good meal. Asking a woman in New York
her marital status would be bordering on discourteousness, but a similar
question posed at Palolem beach is considered basic foreplay.
Along with a good friend, Kate, who happens to be a fair skinned foreigner,
I decided to check the 'politeness' quotient in Goa. We started off in the
early evening at a beach shack in Baga. Kate decided to take in the sunset
and was promptly ushered to a beach bed and her limbu-soda was served with
a cute little umbrella sticking out the glass. When I requested a beach bed
I was very curtly told it would cost me Rs. 100/- even if I sat on it for
just five minutes. My large beer was served to me in the bottle,
un-chilled, and with no accompanying glass.
Later we went to a 'happening' discotheque in Candolim, about which I had
read rave reviews. I was told by one of the black t-shirted bouncers to
wait outside with the rest of the taxi drivers! When I protested and
identified myself as Kate's friend I was allowed in but only after paying a
'cover' charge of Rs. 300/-. I saw all females, foreigners, journalists and
those-who-looked-like-big-spenders being let in without any cover charge.
Inside there were many similar black t-shirted guys with the word 'BOUNCER'
printed prominently on their backs. Quite unnecessary, unnerving and rude,
I think. Nowhere have I seen a bouncer needing to be labeled as one. They
normally can be identified by their attitude and brawn itself. Kate and I
headed towards the bar. She got immediate service. I had to yell to get the
barman's attention. I asked for a peg of Caju Feni and was quite aghast
when he sneered and told me they don't serve local drinks. "Looks like you
don't want to serve locals either", I muttered.
From there Kate and I headed to South Goa. The tourist taxi driver
completely ignored me but spoke to Kate in a sort of Jamaican accent and
asked her if she was interested in buying a house in Goa. Apparently he
moonlighted as a real estate broker and had contacts with lawyers and
government officials to bypass any property ownership laws for foreigners.
In an aside he whispered to me in Konkani that if I helped cinch the deal I
would be given a good commission. Despite our protestations he stopped at
exactly five Kashmiri handicraft shops on a six kilometer stretch and
insisted at each place that we just enter and exit the shop. How this
benefits anyone, if we don't buy anything, I cannot comprehend.
At this large restaurant in Benaulim when Kate asked what fresh fish was
available a whole platter of the day's catch was bought for her
examination. When I asked, in Konkani, what local liquor was available the
Keralite waiter didn't understand what I was saying and brought in another
waiter to translate - and a bouncer, just in case. An elderly obese Russian
woman went up to the one-man-band on stage and sang a dreadful song,
totally out of tune, in her native language and was provided with
accompaniment by the musician and a loud roar of applause by the five or
six tables that her guests were occupying. I think it was her husband's
birthday. The waiters, bouncers, cashiers, cooks and owner too joined in
the applause with beaming smiles. When I offered to sing a Konkani mando
the musician told me that there was no time as he was about to start his
Beatles' medley.
Was it my attitude? Did I just have the wrong currency, the wrong accent
and the wrong shade of skin? Or have Konkani and Caju Feni become
undesirables in Goa?
-----
The humour column above appeared in Gomantak Times dated 27th July 2006
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