I love India. The first time I went to Goa I got off the plane and was overwhelmed. The heat was like walking into an oven. I had an initial panic that I couldn’t breath; then I noticed the very air smelt spicy! Such a culture shock. You become an immediate target for street sellers; there were no pavements; old ladies were digging the roads - red earth, bright colours - ordinary women wearing the most vivid saris. Motor bikes were everywhere; no rules for the traffic, constant hooting, expecting everyone to get out of the way! Whole families on one motor bike - Dad, Mum and two kids and their flowing saris! Health and safety nightmare!
In the town of Margua there was a man with a pneumatic drill, digging the road, with people walking next to him (In Shrewsbury they put up barriers and council workers lay out traffic cones every time the river overspills its bank by a few inches).
One day I was on my own walking down the street, looking at the roadside stalls. I heard a loud shout and looked over and saw a Danish tourist pushing an old beggar, who had approached him, to the ground. Everyone seemed to gasp. I felt very ashamed, angry and confused.
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