The plan to spend an extended amount of time in India was conceived so long ago that trying to remember when, how and who initiated the thought leads mostly to fractured fairy tales.

I think it was my husband’s idea to change his life radically to serve the same function as cleaning your palate between courses. He was looking forward to total retirement and fantasized about a period of time to wipe the slate clean and begin to formulate a next stage in his life.

Life has a way of whisking away parts of our ideas and morphing them into other versions of themselves. Total retirement, when contemplated in the reality of the altering of lifestyle that financial change would necessitate, has been postponed for another few years and transformed into six months working and six months…not working. (Still no definition as to what that might entail.)

But that might be exactly what led us to sitting around the pool at The Fern Spazio Resort and Spa – which sounds far fancier than it is; though it’s very nice – in Arjuna, North Goa, India. It might be kismet, karma, or just one of life’s serendipitous events. It’s feeling a lot like one of those proverbial gift horses in whose mouths we’ve been forewarned not to look too carefully

Five days in bustling Mumba; a city with a population of an unbelievable 22 million people. Mumbai is a city of contrast. Extreme wealth in its commercial center and extreme poverty with literally millions living in the slums with which we became familiar in Slum Dog Millionaire (which, by the way, is quoted extensively by guides in Mumbai.)

We arrived during the Diwali Festival – five days of vacation celebrating the removal of darkness and ignorance; The Festival of Lights (not to be confused with Chanukah, though there are similarities). The fireworks were on Sunday so we missed them but we didn’t miss the crowds of Indians on holiday in Mumbai.

As we approached The Gateway of India, lovely architecture reminding us of the not-so-lovely period of British Rule when in 1911 the stone gateway was built for the king and queen’s visit, we saw a mass of humanity second only to the million people we joined at Woodstock. Dripping sweat in the hot Mumbai humidity, I could only smile at the outlandish possibility of inserting myself into that press of people. It seemed so ludicrous.

My children pointed out to me long ago that the only possibility of not having to stand in a long line for activities for kids is choosing really boring activities. I take my grandchildren into lines and crowds I never would’ve taken my children. The funny thing is that when I mentioned that recently to one of my kids she said she was happy that I take her kids to those crowded fun places because she’s not willing to.

A sweet young man was kind enough to show us the right line to be in to get onto the ferry to Elephant Island to see the caves, and seemed to be saying that the tickets would sort themselves out. The long but orderly snake line looked daunting but he assured us it would only take half an hour. Google advised getting on the 2 o’clock ferry so we were standing in the hottest sun Mumbai could serve up and it was plenty hot. At some point a man came and sold us tickets and, lo and behold, in 40 minutes we were on a ferry. The promised 45 minute ride stretched out to an hour and a half, but the breeze was welcome.

Elephant Island has no elephants and neither do the elephant caves. It seems that once upon a time there were two big statues of elephants at the entrance to the island. The British, as is their wont, stole them and took them wherever they fancied, but the name stuck.

We took a local guide, Harish, one of the 1200 inhabitants of the island, and made our way up 125 narrow stone steps, four and five abreast, with people packed in front of and behind us. Along both sides of the stairs was a market of trinkets, including wonderful Tibetan singing bowls for a tenth the price we pay for them in Israel. Carried along by the crowd, we ignored the vendors’ pleas.

The Portuguese (who also ruled here for a little more than 500 years) tried to destroy the elephant caves but the beautiful carvings of the nine images of Shiva as well as the caves themselves are made of basalt and remained mostly impervious to the attempts. The carvings are beautiful and their stories well told.

We went on a private car tour of Mumbai and a walking tour of the markets. The sights were interesting but the guides were more so. We saw the in/famous Mumbai laundry, got a peek at the slums surrounding it, and were fascinated by the Gandhi Museum.

Our driver/guide told us a tragic story that may or may not have been partially or totally true. He said his father died when he was 12 and his mother ran off. He slept on the streets or in temples and learned English from an old man who read the newspaper with him to teach him. He married and rents a tiny place in the slums for himself, his wife and their two children. We said hello to his two, very sweet, children on his phone.

There’s really no need for a guide in the Mumbai markets but our pleasant 25 year old guide gave us many tips for bargaining that have come in very handy as well as sharing his insights into Indian culture. He yearns to move out of his parents’ home and live independently, mostly to indulge his desire to have unbridled fun. He and his parents disagree about what he should be doing to prepare for his future as well as what his future should look like. (Sounds like young people here, or at least this one, have a lot in common with their age group in the States).

We both took to pure vegetarian food immediately again, as if we hadn’t been carnivores for the past 3 years since leaving India. We found our special place to eat dinner and ate there most evenings. At home I make an effort to get to 6000 steps a day; here I get to 11,000 and even 18,000 without trying. At home I’ve developed tricks to remain hydrated; here I swig liters of water constantly.

Feeling healthy and happy and relaxed after a week in Northern Goa. Met up with a wonderful yogi/teacher on the beach.

But that will wait for my next post.

Namaste