who made who

Goa. A dump for westerners. I need to get the fuck out of this place. It is full of market stands selling things you can find in my hometown. Sellers even know stupid rhymes in Italian. Old hippies are here and there to be seen but they look passe' and drained up. The Blue Tao restaurant was good though: i had tufu with spinach cream and rice, plus papaya and pineapple fresh juices. No flea market tomorrow (the famous one) because it is off season. It rains every two hours and you cannot even have a bath in the ocean. Yesterday I ended up in a sort of Waikiki hotel close to Malvan. I had a shack by the beach all on my own and a she-dog as a friend. I spent most of the day hallucinating in bed because I was sick. Nothing I had expected to get in India: a heavy cold due to coming in and out of AC restaurants in Mumbai. I had fever as well. I had fish for dinner in this empty restaurant while listening to Indian murmuring away. Today I feel much better although I am still clogged. I am thinking more and more about Rajasthan and the lands at the border with Nepal and Pakisthan. Who knows? I'll head to Hampi tomorrow. The train from Mumbai is an awesome experience. The day before getting on it I was quite scared and unsettled. The are no doors, grids out of the windows and huge fans on the ceiling. It is all blu, on the inside and on the outside. There are people talking all the time and selling tea and snacks at every hour of the night. It is noisy. There are no compartments. The more peple you fit the more efficient. Like in the bus this morning: we were paked like sardines. And the train whistles now and again like in the stories you tell kids. India is killing me softly with its way and Im liking it.