All the children in india are called Buba

Alessandro has been in India six or seven times. In fact, he lives half of the year that part of the world. The rest of the time, he remains in a caravan in Italy, Bologna, or travelling elsewhere. Now, he explains, he wants to go to a iogui festival beginning next week in Goa, where he will play, he is a musician, or give lessons, make juggling or simply rest for a while.

The caravanserai...
After leaving my NZ suitcase in the castle, Leia «the princess» and Alessandro «the Insight Guider» go to discover Mumbay. We meet some old friends of him, laughing and shaking their heads at hindi style - he he, isn’t it funny! Afterwards, in his favourite restaurant (both 180 INR= 2,8€), I learn how to eat with the right hand, it is really difficult! Some logistics come then: he shows me a cheaper and nice hostel Kishan Guest House (Gr. Floor Shirin Manzil. Walton Road, near Electric House, Colaba—about 1500 INR/ night) for going on my return, preliminar characterization into the inner hindi I am (some copper bracelets), and purchase of a book, a sleeper class train ticket to Goa & telephone card for him.

During all the walk, my eyes turn into the barefooted children, begging and playing at the same time, the beautiful women with coloured saries sitting on the street, the musicians... The need to talk to them is so hugue, that when Alessandro is absentminded, I take the children in my arms, and baba says «No money, no money: baby eat», then I run into a Pharmacy, I buy milk in powder for them, in two seconds I have three children laughing around me and pushing from my t-shirt, I want to take them all! and then I buy chocolate for them. My friend appears and discovers me with all the children and the chocolates. Looking at me very sweetly, he smiles and says, Laia, come on, let’s go. My happiness is hugue, I tremble.

Here a photo of my laughing little girl with baba & mumy.:

And me with her:

Next station: Gateway of India. It reminds me of El Malecón de la Havana Vieja. different people, different colours, same feeling: unoccupied men staring at the sea and happy families taking a walk in front of luxurious Taj Mahal Hotel. We seat in the soil, like other beggars, and in one minute we have a little child asking for money. «What’s your name?», asks Alessandro in hindi. Buba!, he says. Bops! – my friend says looking into his eyes – Why all the children in India are called Buba? And joints their white feet with the little brown childen’s feet and they play «bicycle» for half an hour, while we conversate about Goa, the ashrams there, the Rainbow comunity – I live there! says A.-, meditation impossible in a country so massified, and the wonderful beaches in the south.

I become a tourist attraction for the natives, and a lot of people asks me to have a photo with them. I am supermodel!

At the end of the day we the return to my castle on foot, I can see how beautiful women «go to bed» in the street with their children, it is time to go to sleep. Alessandro invites me to his place in Goa, maybe we make a travel to the south, then he takes his train and I remain in the big city.
A lot of thoughts come to my mind... The shock is amazing. Tomorrow, another day in Mumbay, alone... or maybe not.

Peace, light and love