Okay, I have no idea how this great 'Goan' adventure actually started, but I am already in the middle of it. Haha, well, kind of coming in in the very early morning hours somehow around November with an Overnight bus and my beloved Miss Brighton. Haha. Meanwhile survived Goa, can laugh about it, even start to miss it and still aren't wiser, just more confused about life, the universe and everything. 

Well … Goa … that was – again – an experience of the special kind. The place who thought me 'to trust' again. There, on some dark days in my small room, let the universe me feel again. Wishes got send towards the sky … and heard. Dreams got sendfrom the sky, about places and actions as guidance. Moments, so many moments happened. But this is far too much forward in all happenings. Let's go back together. Let's start with one – one of the later moments. Let's hear ...

We are back in Patnem. Opposite Chai Shop. I am almost 'done' with Goa. The feeling of movement starts to emerge. But for the moment, it's for me to stay, to wait, to trust and hope. I asked desperately for a partner on my way, on my journey. From the bottom of my heart I wished and prayed and wished for a life, at least a travel, companion. A friend, I can share moments with. A friend, I can collect and live moments with.

… and … here he is: The fulfilment of my prayers and wishes. Let me introduce you PABLO – Super dog Taffy, Marshmallow, Pedington, Clumsy, Chapati, Tommy, Singharam … so far, but this is another part of the story.

Mario – landlord, friend and special – comes one day home with those two adorable puppies from the beach. Little. Not even a hand full. Eyes still closed. Their mum got attacked and - apparently for her better – than killed by a pack of beach dogs – so Mario's story. A bit later his younger fancy hip brother (thanks universe to sending me this gigolo by the way :D :D ) comes home with this proud, beautiful Doberman lady (with long tail, Jeanne ;-), but thats just a side track we won't go for now.

So. Here we are: With three puppies more or less jumping and running around the property. Calisto – brown, active, agile, interested. Lady – black ass, clever, so fucking clever and jealous.

Pablo – the 'chosen one'. Sick. Weak. Clumsy. Falling over. Out of balance. Brave. Frightened. Braver. Frightening. Day after day I fed him. First with syringes, than with a spoon, than showed him in self performance how to drink and eat out of a bowl. That was funny. I watched him grow. I watched him becoming stronger. I started to like him and open up my heart for him. What a clumsy, cute, little creature. So helpless in some stages, but trying. So valiant in others and still going. Damn, so fucking like me! How he is running on his wobbly feeds around, falling over, loosing balance, standing up and never loosing his beautiful curious and happy smile. ... mindbubbeling ... well, we can discuss how much of the last half stateent is at the momement in my 'I', but I do recognise too many similarities between this little fellow and me. Funny! Rediculous funny! ... end of mindbubbeling ... 'Happy goes lucky, man!' Pablo starts to follow me around. First just on the property, than in the neighbourhood, than to town, the beach, by walk, on the scooter. Everywhere. He becomes my shadow. I haven't asked for it.

Than, an idea is slowly but powerful arising – in my mind, my chest, my heart, my inner self. A picture, a movie, a dream. I start to imagine myself travelling with this little fellow across India. 'Would be cool!', I feel. 'Totally crazy!', I think. Travelling with a dog. Sure. A dog in a backpack? I am not even able to look properly after and for myself. How can I take the responsibility for such a tiny little creature on board? In a foreign country? And let's be honest: The journey wouldn't just be India. … and not just a couple of weeks. It's a commitment. A huge commitment. Travelling with him through crazy colourful earth and life? Haha! … but … SHIT … I am seriously falling more and more in love with this idea. I asked the universe for a partner. There he is! I should listen, shouldn't I? I really merged myself into this phantasy. Dived into it, holding Pablo like a baby in my arms, feeding him one more time with the syringes sugary milk and biscuit. I look at him. He looks back at me. 'What a good, brave, strong boy you are', I have to tell him. He was struggling – seriously- the first days he was with us. Stubborn. Not willing to eat nor to drink. He looks at me. The last syringe is empty. Meal finished. He looks at me. Proud, with his capturing adorable smile and bis huge big eyes. I hold him up. Right in front of me. Picturing us traveling. Right in front of my inner eye. Keeping the idea awake, alive. In mind and heart. We are looking at each other. The world around us seems to dissolve. You and me? I more hear those words forming in my head, instead of thinking them. Like it is not me who is the creator, the thinker of them. You and me? Seriously? He grins' back at me.

Agreeing.

Agreeing?

Agreeing!

What the f***

A dog is grinning at me. Not JUST grinning. It's like an answer to my mind. I mean. … What? Sure. He's communicating with me. Beyond the spoken word. For sure. (Attention: Sarcasm - or my beloved Miss Brighton would say - cynism. She has apparently never met in her life before such a cynical person than me. Well, I would never consider myself as cynical. But ... well done Germany, hey?

... ohhhkay .... back to the grinning dog story ...

Yes, I did see dogs smiling before. Our little princess had the most beautiful, happiest and most satisfied smile ever on her face. Yes, dogs do have their own facial expressions. ... mindbubbeling ... remembering her face, when she was cautiously inspecting my finger tip with Guacamole and than her change on her face when this new taste reached her taste buds for the first time. So funny. And her ears. So funny. She loved it … ahhhh … good memories! ... end of mindbubbeling ... Pablo's grin was somehow different. More intense. More related. This grin. Pablo, Super dog Taffy, Marshmallow, Pedington, Clumsy, Chapati, Tommy, Singharam. His grin. A silent approval.

Bamm!

That's it universe!

I surrender!

The idea manifests.

I can't take him! … Can I? … I would love to! I just want to! He is me. In format 'dog'. He seriously is. It seems that we are on the same 'emotional wave'. If I am in a good mood, he is it although. If I have a bad day, he seems to be in a bad mood, too. It's not, that he relates to me, copies or adapts my mood. It's more that we resonate with each other.

I watch him carefully over the next days. His reactions. His behaviour. Naa. We can't go exploring and traveling together … not really! He is a beach dog. A free dog. But he is dragging my attention … and … I am dragging his attention. … and more. He is showing me, that he wants. He shows me his curiosity for the new and the world. He shows me his sense for fearless (and sometimes headless) adventures. He is so small. Still so weak. Playful. Pure. But fuck, he has character and I love it! No! Think about all those possible hindrances and troubles a dog would course. Yeah, India is a country that hosts as much dogs as people. They just belong to this colourful disturbing country. But that doesn't mean, that they are treated very well. Dogs are tolerated, often not treated very well. And than imagine a white young woman showing up with a small puppy on a leash? Is it allowed to take him on busses? On the train? What about hostels? What about border crossings? Question marks over question marks. Problems. Troubles. Hindrances. No! No way! BUT …

HE IS JUST STUNNING

Unexpected friends and unexpected moments

For about ten days, I was lucky enough to stay and sleep in my little Goan blue paradise with brown bathroom in change for
help on the property. In action we are talking about brooming the drive way, collection pecan nuts, feeding pigs and painting a gate ... and honestly? Those ten days were some sort of special and also one of my favourite Goan memories. Here I've met true people in a very special way.

Here, during my days of pecan collection and gate painting, I spend most of the day with Mario, one of the sons as well as the 'drunken bastard and sober genius' Mario. The bits and pieces of his life he shared with us during the day, while cracking pecan nuts, washing close, having lunch or painting the gate, were kind of spectacular. Nearly unbelievable. Well, I can tell, you can make up your mind for yourself. For those, who have been lucky enough to come and explore this special place of earth, those know ... in Goa there are running around a lot of special characters and a lot of crazy stories. For me, how much over the top some bits and pieces.

Now - Marco is old and a legend in Goa. For sure he is known from the most southern tip to the fares northern sand corn in
the whole area. He had a stroke that make him drag his left leg behind him. His walking with a long wooden stick, he also liked to use to give his anger a little bit more expression. But in the bottom of his heart? He was sad and broken. With his heart, thoughts and memories so often with his old dad. A day in his memory that was sticking there for ever and ever. The sixties birthday
of his day. The big party with the big bottles. The filed glasses one after the other. His present for his old day was a beautiful red shiny car. Marco has mentioned for sure the brand of the car. I just remember red and shiny and that his father was very happy, getting handed over the car keys ... and driving after the big party ... into a huge big bang ... and his end.

BOOM

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Marco was talking a lot. That his roots were in Israel and somehow also in Italy. His father by blood was a name within the Italian
mafia and made Marco with 17 to a millionaire. He was talking about his ups and downs in his life ... and one thing he mentioned over and over again: he was a drunken bastard and a sober genius. The prison? He was also allowed to visit for a while from the inner side. When he came to Mario, he was asking for a bed, a shower and food. His visa was expired as well as he was a well-known person in the embassy. Some over long termers were trying to help him out, with money and cash and a new visa. I had to leave before I could find out what was happening to him. Sometimes, when he was in a very good mood, he was talking about
us the three wise monkeys. Mario, who sees no evil, himself, who sees no evil and to herself, who speaks no evil.

This broken fellow from overseas seemed to me in some stages like the only real person in my whole Goan fantasy. He was
rough. Feeling, talking and acting like he felt. But he also was appreciating the bed Mario was offering him and the full plate of tasty food Mario's mum was giving him. He was looking caringly over Pablo and the other dogs on the property as well as he tried to help as much as he could with his one half that was properly functioning. In those days, I was seriously happy about them two
being there and going with me through the day. Thank you for the moments. Thank you for the pictures.