“‘Do you really like London?’ I asked.
‘I don’t,’ she said…‘but London’s as good a place as any to hang your hat.’”
— Bruce Chatwin
The plan had been Pondicherry.
It’s a moderately sized city over on India’s east coast, and is what’s called a Union Territory. Up until 1954, it was actually ruled by the French, and if you try hard enough, you can still feel a bit of a colonial vibe leftover.
The streets, which all start with Rue de la, are unusually wide for India – furthermore, they’re actually safe to cross without fearing for your life. There are cafés and patisseries and a delightful promenade by the sea. I visited Pondicherry the first time I was in India and loved it so much in fact, I had to leave – here’s my “it’s not you, it’s me” break-up note with Pondy, in case you missed it.
Between all my running around with the Adventurists on their Rickshaw Runs, project visits with the NGO I do work for, Jeevika Trust, and other story-finding trips such as my three weeks in Thailand in December, you might say I haven’t really stopped moving since arriving in India.
“So where are you this week?” my friend Erin asked me in January. “We need to put a GPS chip in you.”
It wouldn’t be a bad idea, actually.
But then suddenly, miraculously, I found myself with five weeks and nowhere to be. I know – I didn’t believe it at first either. Where would I go? What would I do? The possibilities were endless.
I could go to Malaysia! I could go to Japan! I could go to Kashmir!
Here’s the thing, though: I didn’t want to go anywhere. I wanted to pick a spot, curl up in it, and not move again until the five weeks were up. And lest you think I would spend my time in such a spot idly, fear not: I wanted to write. I wanted to rescue my book from the backburner of my mind – where it has been covered in cobwebs for far too long now – and start writing it again.
It was time to find a spot that would allow me to do so – and, I decided at first, Pondicherry was it.
But then I went to Goa.
I had planned to pass through the balmy, beachy state anyways after leaving the finish line of the January Rickshaw Run, and when I told my friend Hannah this – who runs a beautiful blog called Further Bound, and has been living in south Goa for the last six months – she offered me a place to crash for two nights.
The bus from Margao dropped me at the end of Hannah’s street, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to the little house she has been renting. And somewhere in those five minutes, as my flip-flops slapped against the narrow road, as coconut trees swayed above me and the quiet waves of Colomb Bay curled gently towards the rock-lined shore, it occurred to me, in a rather simple fashion, that I had been wrong about Pondicherry.
Very wrong.
This was it.
I didn’t say anything at first. I spent the rest of the day hanging out with Hannah and her friends Monica and Andreas, who were serendipitously visiting at the same time, but as we swam at the end of Palolem Beach, had a pre-dinner and then dinner, and walked home under a spectacularly star-festooned sky, I kept taking it all in, trying to picture myself here.
And the picture in my head said YES.
It was only on the way to Galgibaga Beach the next morning that I asked the fatal question.
“Hannah, are there are any more houses for rent?”
And so it was that I returned to Colomb Bay two weeks later – after an epic jaunt around India that had me clocking some 100 hours on trains – and found myself at Hannah’s house again. After breakfast at one of our favorite restaurants in town, we picked up my backpack, my rucksack, and a third bag full of snacks and fruit from friends in Chennai, and set out down the street.
“Let’s take you home,” Hannah said, and I swear to you, I could’ve cried. And after an hour of unpacking and setting out what few knick-knacks I’d brought with me, I did cry, just a little, and they were all tears of big, huge, inexpressible joy.
Home. So what if it’s only for five weeks? For the next month, this little baby – in all her one bedroom, one bathroom, and tiny kitchen glory – is home, and I am giddy in love with her. And now I can’t wait to show her off to you…after you, my friends:
I love the compactness of this house, the way it’s just enough for me. I love that it isn’t showy, that the place to store my clothes is just a few boards nailed together to form shelves; that I get to hang my beach towel to dry on a single line strung across the kitchen.
I love that when I asked my landlady Asmita if she had anything to cook with, she said, “A few things,” and brought me: one pot, one pan, one plate, one knife, one spoon, one glass, one coffee mug, one cutting board.
And you know what? It’s enough.
I get by, even if it means doing the dishes after every meal. Which, let’s be honest, is one way to ensure you never have dirty dishes in the sink for too long. I love the one burner, the way I have to cook my pasta first, take it off, put the pan on to sauté my vegetables, and then throw the pasta back in to heat it all up together.
I can’t guarantee I could keep up such a system forever, but for now, it’s enough.
I love popping into the nearby town of Chaudi to buy groceries, how they all fit into a single box, and how, when I get home, they all fit on a single wooden shelf above the sink.
You guessed it: It’s enough.
I love the papaya tree that stands guard outside my door, I love the red flower growing beside it that I don’t know the name for, and I love that when I sit at my desk some mornings and hear a rustle outside, that this dude is right there in my front garden having his own breakfast, too.
I love that I live within walking distance of views you see on calendars, of my friends Hannah and Jenny and Kim, and that on most nights, we meet up for sunset drinks at a local joint called Boom Shankar. Now if that isn’t the best name for a bar ever, I don’t know what is.
There’s a sense of community here that I don’t ever want to leave – a sense that maybe this is just a little bit closer to how life is meant to be.
But remember what I was saying about my book? About actually, you know, writing it?
Well I am, slowly, doing just that, wading through a sea of notebooks and photos and figuring the damn thing out. It feels good to no longer just be talking about it, but to actually be doing it, putting words to the page – even if I just rip them right up again the next morning.
So as much as there is to love about this place (and as you might’ve picked up on, there’s a lot), what has captured my heart the most about my temporary home is simply getting to sit down here every morning:
Alright, who am I kidding? This is what it actually looks like 99% of the time:
There’s a place for my books, and for two small but significant souvenirs: a shell I found on Made’s secret beach on Nusa Penida, and a fan I was given during a dance lesson a couple days later on the same island.
As my main writing goal here is the section of my book about Nusa Penida, these two objects sit on either side of my laptop, reminding me of the work I’m here to do.
Because in the end, that is what I’m most grateful for about these next five weeks. As much as I love the house itself – and the papaya tree and my one mug and the enough-ness of it all… – what I love even more is the work it enables me to do.
OMG YES!!!!!!!!!!!! I totally, totally, TOTALLY FEEL THE SAME WAY. And I just love that you love it too, and that you are here, and that you take beautiful pictures so that I can show everyone where I live (for now) with pride. Ahhh, I love it. Boomshanker soon?
YAY!!!! I love that we are just one big bundle of love for Goa right now! I truly feel so blessed that all of our paths have crossed here, and I am just basking in the glow of the sun and the sea and all these wonderful friendships. Boom Shankar soon is a MUST! Tonight?! (Since some of you already have plans for tomorrow night 😉
Simplicity at its best! Beautiful pictures! I hope you enjoy the next few weeks “off” 🙂
Thank you, Pauline! And yes, I am in love with simplicity at the moment… a wise friend of mine recently said, “There is profundity in simplicity,” and I am making that my life mantra right now 🙂 Thanks for stopping by, and I hope to see you here again!
The feeling of having your own space for a set time (specially after crazy traveling non-stop) is among the best feelings ever… and this place looks so cozy!
It really is, isn’t it, Katherina? I keep telling myself I shouldn’t be this excited over cooking pasta or doing the dishes, but sometimes it just means so much when you haven’t felt that sense of ownership over a place for a while. I hope all is well with you! Where are you off to next?
This post sent a little shiver down my spine. It reminded me of how I felt when I first moved in to my Sri Lankan house, and how I loved it SO much, despite its flaws because it was my little piece of property in a country I adored, set across a backdrop of beauty that got my heart racing with its wonderfulness. I imagine that is how you feel.
I hope that you will be really happy in your new place in the world! It seems like an excellent spot to get some writing done, and I’m very excited to read your book when you do eventually finish!!
Natalie xx
Hey Natalie! This comment brought such a smile to my face – I love that you know the exact feeling I mean 🙂 I so wish I could come see you in your Sri Lankan element! When are you headed back there? Thanks so much for your well wishes…there are definitely great writing vibes in this little house, so I look forward to making a big dent on my book here. (And yes, I can’t wait to share it with you one day!) Hope all is well back in the UK xx
Candace, as I read this my heart just melted, and I had to take a moment upon finishing before I was able to scoop it all back up again. This was so beautifully expressed, and your quote “There’s a sense of community here that I don’t ever want to leave – a sense that maybe this is just a little bit closer to how life is meant to be.” – oh boy, that just had me sitting here nodding, YES!, a thousand times yes. I love having you as a neighbour, and a friend 🙂
Aw, I love thinking of you sitting in the internet cafe, nodding your head a thousand times yes 🙂 Thanks so much for your sweet comment – I can’t wait to make the most of these next three weeks while we’re all still here! xx
“I love the red flower growing beside it that I don’t know the name for…”
The common name is Cardinal’s Guard. Like you, this beauty is non-native to India. She was introduced from S.America and now thrives in her new home. Ah, kindred spirits. No wonder you love her so. May you and your writing bloom!
Amazing! I can’t believe you knew the name of it 🙂 Thanks so much for enlightening me, Mrs. Gregus, and I especially love that she too is a non-native here. I will think of that every time a new one blooms outside my door now. Hope you and the family are enjoying the weekend!
Hey Candace! Where exactly is this and how much per night, etc? Thanks!
Hi Lela! Thanks so much for stopping by 🙂 This costs me 9,000 rupees a month, or just over US$160. It’s located in Colomb Bay in south Goa – the closest train station is Cancona/Canacona, and from there you can catch an auto-rickshaw here. It’s right in between Palolem and Patnem Beaches, and shouldn’t be too hard to find! Please let me know if you have any more questions ([email protected]), as I’d love to help – it’s a beautiful corner of India.
It all seems so very perfect. In a ramshackle kind of way, of course, but there’s nothing wrong with that. So very understatedly ideal and perfect. How do you carry all those books in your backpack? You must have a very sore back.
Ramshackle is the perfect way to put it! It definitely felt like that – especially during a freak monsoon-like shower one Saturday morning when the rain fell straight through my clay tile roof 🙂 And believe it or not, those are just a few of the books I have with me here in India – the rest are currently at a friend’s house in Chennai…I definitely have way too many for my back’s good!
Still in love with goa?? 🙂
One place which is geographically looks like Kerala.
Of course! A little piece of my heart will always be in Colomb Bay 🙂
This is amazing. I am 26 and wants to do all these things that you are doing specially travelling alone. all the best Candice. you really helped me realise what I really want to do. 🙂
All the best for your book. 🙂
Thank you so much for taking the time to write and share this. I especially enjoyed the pictures and it provided me with much needed inspiration for my upcoming trip to India
You’re so welcome, Kim! I’m just glad to hear that it’s been helpful to you as you plan your trip – if you have any other questions about India I could help with, please do let me know 🙂 My email is [email protected].
Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums is a great book. So is The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen.You are definitely multi talented and a source of inspiration Candace ! Thank you for a great blog. http://www.nomadensolo.com
I couldn’t agree more, Jean-Marc! I loved coming across both of those books while I was in India, and The Snow Leopard has continued to be one of my favorites. Thank you very much for your kind words here, and I look forward to sharing more stories and sketches with you soon 🙂