Goa, The Rome of the East

Hello from Mapusa, capital of Bardez, North Goa.

I came here because they told me there was a Wi Fi spot here at Cafe Coffee Day in Panaji, the modern city of Goa. Well, these were the people of the cafe in Panaji and guess what? There isn't even a Coffee Day here. So, despite what I can call valiant efforts no photo uploads for this part of the trip, unless I find another place here.

My arrival at the Panjim Inn was magical. I have a room in an old colonial mansion with gorgeous rosewood furniture, a four poster bed that my sister Joan would adore, the best A/C, a fridge stocked with soda and beer, a safety lock box, spotlessly clean, just inside from the veranda where there is an excellent restaurant where I had a snapper that night and chatted with a charming food and beverage youth who looks just like Dave Chappel. Wait til you see the pix. This place was a heavenly arrival because I'm sort of a wreck with everything happening so quickly and the intense, not to say infernal, tropical heat. SO good to be out of the smog of Mumbai, but it bit me in the nose, where I am going through a vicious outbreak of herpes. This too will pass and I have a cream for it too.

Sunday there was a quick bus to Old Goa where St. Francis Xavier is buried in Bom Gesu Basilica. I got there and attended two masses in the local language of Konkani and in between brought my new passport to the relic venerated in front of the ornate baroque chapel where the Apostle of the Indies is lying incorruptibly after centuries. It reminds me of when i was a boy and loved church so much I would hang around during and between and after masses. This was when I was about 5 and the church was just down the block from 106 West 90th Street. O the Beauty of Holiness cherished in the house of the Lord by the psalmist and his followers. The Duke of Tuscany had the shrine built in 1698 in exchange for the pillow under the saint's head. The building of the church dates from 1594 as does the Professed house next door. Totally awesome Renaissance proportions and the finest materials with a Christian art from the hands of Hindu craftsmen. The place was packed with worshippers and, like St. Ignatius, I had the consolation of copious tears, to see such devotion. I bought the sweetest little statue of the saint in his rapture meditating on the cross. His fervor is still felt in the dedication of the people here to his cult. They flocked to the shrine after mass, bringing candles and flowers and reverantly kissing the barefeet of his statue. St. Francis went barefoot as he baptized over 30,000 converts here. The Cathoics here are still going strong and still look on him as their great patron saint. This was a real consummation for me after all the years of reading Bartoli and studying the history of the Jesuit missions. I was totally wiped out, so I put off seeing any of the many other religious sites of Old Goa for antoher day and went to my wonderful room for a respite. Last night I had an evening walk around the colonial quarter Fontainhas, took hundred of photos of the great cloroured houses and took a boat ride on the Mandovi River, packed with vacationing Indians who did a disco trip the whole time between the presentation of local dancers. I wonder if the 30 second film of the gents buggieing can be put on the blog. It's too marvelous. Last night I had chicken Muglai and port wine, as that's what they have. Today I went to the Foreign Registry Office of the Police to see about my exit visa. I'll have to do it either in Kochi or Delhi, closer to the date of my departure. Then I took another bus to Parvolim where there is a Xavier Research Institute. There I got an article about Bartoli's writing on India and looked through the amazing three tomes of Fr. Wicki's Documenta Indica, part of the Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, volumes 124-126. He was librarian at the Jesuit Historical Institute in Rome where i spent 1979 reading the ten thousand gorgeuos pages of Bartoli's History of the Society of Jesus. The tomes have fascinating letters from the Provincial Valignano and other illustrious figures about the building of the Professed House and the missions to Japan and the relations with Mar Abraham. He was the bishop of the St. Thomas Christians who were there since the arrival of the apostle buired in Mylapore when the Portughese arrived in 1510. They were not thrilled to be dragged from their Nestorian ways into orthodoxy and Roman Cathoicism at the insistance of the reverend and unremitting fathers of the Society. Good thing I looked at the article I had copied. The librarian took the title page and went backwards, so I got a whole other article. She did the pages I needed though. She had told me that there was too much work to do them before two hours. Two hours later she arrivesd with her shopping bags and runs off the article backwards! The place has a lovely museum of religious art with many beautiful wood carved saint reliquaries. There was even a portrait of St. Gregory with triple tiara and inspiring dove. No photography allowed. In India reaity is multi-layered. The first level is NO. The second level is confusion. There third level is maybe. Often you can get what you want if you are prepared to penetrate the shifting levels of mystery and that takes time and patience. In the vast majority of cases the people have no choice but to wait through the cloud of unknowing. So far for me, so good.

Another aspect of India is the size of the cabs. There are suited to people half the average size and girth of those in the States, so you spend the considerable amount of time in cabs slouching back or leaning forward in a sort of Gulliver's Travels experience.

I'll be here until next Sunday when I'll go to the English Mass at Bom Gesu at 10:15, now that I know there is one. In a few days I'll transfer to the beach. Kristina di Nola, [Finnish], a friend of Catherine's from Rome is renting a house in Calingote. Near enough to where the hippies play at Anjuna Beach.

Okay, you all. Enjoy the autumn weather while I swelter. My hair is gradually lightening. It's sort of a Death In Venice experience, but, it's definitely all good.
Namasthe