Ignorance is bliss

For some, ignorance is bliss. But it is only when you see certain things, or learn about particular aspects of life that these people fail to see, that you begin to realise you would rather be in the know than out of it. This was the conclusion I came to while travelling through the shanty towns on the thickly wooded outskirts of Goa. I may have been aware that I would be travelling thousands of miles to reach the destination; I may also have been aware that I was letting myself in for somewhat of an experience, if not a culture shock. What I was certainly not prepared for was the massively overwhelming feeling from the moment I stepped off the plane. The very first thing that hit me, aside from the heat, was the reality of the work these people did - work that would put us Brits to shame. In the two weeks that I was lucky enough to be there, I never once heard anyone complain about the amount of work they had to put up with (and for very little) and the conditions they had to work in. This was regardless of the sweltering heat; that almost wraps itself around you, absorbs into your skin and clings onto your clothes. This was regardless of the few pennies they would receive for the unbreakable, repetitive tasks, day in day out. And regardless of the fact that they have very little to actually go home to at the end of the evening. Those lucky enough to be able to buy a taxi - or tuck tucks - as they were commonly known, certainly didn't have the easy trade. These unfortunate persons fought for customers with their fellows, and would drive a good couple of hours for a customer, half way across the state, for as little as a fiver This is one of the many reasons that I arrived back in England almost ashamed of myself and on behalf of Britain. When you are able to see such poverty, you begin to appreciate every little thing you have. What shocked me most was that the people of Goa had nothing, literally; and yet they were underprivileged in every way possible apart from in spirit. I soon came to realise that when you survive on the bare necessities all your life, you have nothing to complain about. Another thing that I was quick to catch onto was the way in which the people of India trade. On numerous occasions throughout the holiday I was lucky enough to taste some real Indian spice, and I'm not talking about the curry. Various towns around the complex I was situated in held bazaars - the closest definition I can think of is a market - though they were unlike anything I have ever seen. The people of Goa shed a whole new light on the word haggling, something that is harder to adjust to than you would think. However, eventually I began to understand that I would always be the lucky customer or their first buyer of the day, and realised that whatever price I put to them, they would gladly accept. This may sound cheap and probably cruel, which is precisely what I considered it to be at first; in spite of this, however, tourists cannot fail to notice the craftiness and intelligence of the people and the skill of the culture in general, and it can scarcely be ignored that these tradesmen and women know exactly what they are doing. While writing this review, I began to think that one can only give some criticism after such praise; and yet the only fault I could think of was that in fact, that there was none to actually even give! It may be hard to comprehend such a place being so blissfully perfect; the distinct attributes of Goa being bizarre and extraordinary I questioned this myself while being there. However, it finally clicked that perfect was not, in fact quite good enough for such a place, it being an entirely different world, and one certainly unlike any other. I must stress that my personal favourite aspect of Goa would probably have to be the people; poor they may have been, but one thing is for certain; they were rich in kind-heartedness and humanity.

Author: Amy Coombs
Manchester iJourno group