|I use the word "wicket"
||[04 Jan 2006|11:50am]
Thanks to everybody for the congrats on our engagement! I never thought I'd find someone who could tolerate my habit of getting a rap lyric stuck in my head (just a single line or couplet, something like "Can't leave rap alone, the game needs me / haters wanna clap the chrome, it ain't easy") and then walking around repeating it unconciously, OVER and OVER for hours on end. I'm actually surprised I haven't been bludgeoned to death by now. What was I saying? Oh yeah, so Az. puts up with my tics & is beautiful & vivacious & witty & I'm quite lucky indeed. (Her name is A-l-i-z-a for those who don't know. I say Az. to avoid Google but I think the secret may be out.)
I've been investigating "cricket" on this trip. "Cricket" is some weird colonial nonsense that everybody in India is obsessed with. Elsewhere in the world you see kids in dirt lots playing footie; here they're swinging what looks like a fraternity spanking paddle.
My cousin Shivanand has been breaking it down for me. Roughly, cricket is a bit like baseball, except a single game can last EIGHT HOURS. And they have 'test matches' which is when you play a game each day for five days. The pitcher's called a 'bowler' and he throws the ball at these little sticks called wickets (or maybe it's 'wicket'). They're like the strike zone. The batsman tries to hit it and if he does and it goes far enough & nobody catches it, he gets runs. The score goes up into the hundreds.
Ok I don't really get cricket yet so don't try to form an impromptu game based on this description. ("also... everybody plays in the nude. and it's customary to bow in the direction of the Queen before each inning")
The best team in the world is the Australians. I think India might be next best. The India/Pakistan test match is coming up, so I might watch some of that in the week to come. EIGHT HOURS though? just give me the highlights.
What else.... last night we met some guy from Adelaide (the ecstasy capital of Australia, or so he said) and some other travelers and we tried to find a Goa trance party. For me, this was somewhat like searching for someone to smash me in the shins with a balpeen hammer. But we felt like we should at least make a half-hearted attempt to experience the famous Goa party scene. We met at Vagator beach, which incidentally sounds like a cross between Vagina and Skeletor, and after lots of fruitless inquiry determined that no beach parties were goign on because everybody was still recovering from New Years. So instead we went to a beach club called "Paradiso," which was nearly emptya nd featured music so loud that I could feel my fillings rattling in my teeth. We stayed out till 5:30 in the morning but not really partying, just drinking mint tea and talking. Nevertheless when we came back and my cousin asked how it was we were like "Oh man... it went off... crazy buckwild..."
We're leaving Goa now & taking the Konkan railroad to Mangalore. Peach out homiez. I meant to write peace out but backspacing to fix would waste valuable seconds. ONWARD AND OTU!