Letters

Letters 08-31-2015

Inalienable Rights This is a response to the “No More State Theatre” in your August 24th edition. I think I will not be the only response to this pathetic and narrow-minded letter that seems rather out of place in the northern Michigan that I know. To think we will not be getting your 25 cents for the movie you refused to see, but more importantly we will be without your “two cents” on your thoughts of a marriage at the State Theatre...

Enthusiastically Democratic Since I was one of the approximately 160 people present at when Senator Debbie Stabenow spoke on August 14 in Charlevoix, I was surprised to read in a letter to Northern Express that there was a “rather muted” response to Debbie’s announcement that she has endorsed Hillary Clinton for president...

Not Hurting I surely think the State Theatre will survive not having the homophobic presence of Colleen Smith and her family attend any matinees. I think “Ms.” Smith might also want to make sure that any medical personnel, bank staff, grocery store staff, waiters and/or waitress, etc. are not homosexual before accepting any service or product from them...

Stay Home I did not know whether to laugh or cry when I read the letter of the extremely homophobic, “disgusted” writer. She now refuses to patronize the State Theatre because she evidently feels that its confines have been poisoned by the gay wedding ceremony held there...

Keep Away In response to Colleen Smith of Cadillac who refused to bring her family to the State Theatre because there was a gay wedding there: Keep your 25 cents and your family out of Traverse City...

Celebrating Moore And A Theatre I was 10 years old when I had the privilege to see my first film at the State Theatre. I will never forget that experience. The screen was almost the size of my bedroom I shared with my older sister. The bursting sounds made me believe I was part of the film...

Outdated Thinking This letter is in response to Colleen Smith. She made public her choice to no longer go to the State Theater due to the fact that “some homosexuals” got married there. I’m not outraged by her choice; we don’t need any more hateful, self-righteous bigots in our town. She can keep her 25 cents...

Mackinac Pipeline Must Be Shut Down Crude oil flowing through Enbridge’s 60-yearold pipeline beneath the Mackinac Straits and the largest collection of fresh water on the planet should be a serious concern for every resident of the USA and Canada. Enbridge has a very “accident” prone track record...

Your Rights To Colleen, who wrote about the State Theatre: Let me thank you for sharing your views; I think most of us are well in support of the first amendment, because as you know- it gives everyone the opportunity to express their opinions. I also wanted to thank Northern Express for not shutting down these types of letters right at the source but rather giving the community a platform for education...

No Role Model [Fascinating Person from last week’s issue] Jada quoted: “I want to be a role model for girls who are interested in being in the outdoors.” I enjoy being in the outdoors, but I don’t want to kill animals for trophy...

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Stranger in a Strange Land

Robert Downes - December 3rd, 2007
If any of you are weary of winter’s chill in Northern Michigan, I invite you to jump on a plane and join me on the beaches of Goa in southern India, where -- I must confess -- it’s a bit lonely going it alone under the pulsing sun.
After two-and-a-half months of constant travel on my way around the world, I’ve left my backpacking chums to roost for 12 days on the Indian Ocean as a respite from being constantly on the move.
The village of Calangute in the state of Goa is hardly the paradise it’s cracked up to be. I half expected to find 20 miles of high-rise hotels, similar to Cancun, but instead it’s much the same squalor and anarchy as the rest of India, with hotels, restaurants and shops (and hundreds of hustlers) packed into narrow lanes paralleling the beach.
Instead of pretty topless girls in string bikinis, the human scenery here is mostly paunchy Russians and Brits on package tours who look like walking conch shells, stuffed into skimpy thongs that only a stripper would wear back home. I think the Europeans owe Americans a sincere apology for claiming that we’re fat. Some of these guys have beer guts so big, it looks like they’re ready to give birth to twins.
But the locals are mellow and friendly, and since I tend to leave a big American tip of 15-20% (unlike the stingy Euros and Aussies), I am greeted with fond smiles and treated like royalty whenever I return to a restaurant.
And the beaches are a glory. You can wander for miles, watching the fishermen haul in their catch from 30-foot wooden rowboats and filling bushel baskets with flopping fish. Young Indian women splash in the waves, fully-dressed in their saris. Young men walk hand-in-hand, sometimes three abreast, without a clue that this looks gay to Western eyes. Brits play cricket on the beach with Indian teenagers, and cows ramble up and down the shore.
Just offshore is the wreck of an old Russian freighter that has run aground and is rusting away in the tropical sun. A sea eagle glides past the word MOCKBA (Moscow) painted on its bridge, while swimmers splash in its shadow.
And when it comes to spectacles,
you can keep your Taj Mahal. My choice is the Wednesday Flea Market at
Anjuna Beach.
Back in the ’70s, an international group of hippies founded a colony near the village of Anjuna, living naked,
doing heavy drugs and bopping a different partner or three every day. It was the ultimate free love dopetopia. Many are still going at it in the sames spirit, with new young recruits from all over Europe and Australia.
But there are no handouts in India, and even hippies need to eat. Solution? They launched a flea market on the beach, making their own homemade crafts. It has since become world-famous, drawing vendors from all over Asia.
Talk about your Magical Mystery Tour: It’s like driving into a big rock festival, down a long dusty road lined with three-wheeled tuk-tuks and motor scooters. Then you come to hundreds of tents and stalls, filled with all the treasures of India, China, Tibet and Southeast Asia.
You see leathery Tibetan women dressed in the colors of circus clowns with their faces dangling with at least a pound of metal jewelry. Also, little workshops along the way where custom clothing, textiles and jewelry are being hand-crafted by members of the last hippie tribe. Cows wander through the throng, which pulses with the techno and trance music that Goan raves are famous for.
And talk about characters. My own hair is rather on the long side, yet I look as conservative as a lawyer in a three-piece suit compared to the groovy cats drifting through the market. They are as picket-fence-thin as the Indians, covered with freaky Asian tattoos, and have matted dreadlocks that fall to the waist. And of course, shirtless with dozens of bangles, piercings and who-knows-whats-who-knows-where.
Yes, Goa is a bit of a trip, but this lonely traveler wouldn’t mind bumping into a few Americans, who are as rare as snowflakes in India. On the beach, I see the flags of Israel, Denmark, France and those of other countries fluttering proudly in the breeze, and it makes me wish the Stars & Stripes were here as well.
On the other hand, I guess if I wanted to see Americans, I wouldn’t be on the far side of the world, now would I?
Overall, this is a place of “good, good, good, good vibrations” that the Beach Boys were looking for, but even so, too much lounging on the beach gets old after awhile, not to mention cooking like an egg in the 90 degree heat. I’ll be happy to move on in a few days -- say to the jungles of northern Thailand. See you there.
P.S. You know you’ve finally reached paradise when a friendly cow with 10-inch horns wanders into the open-air restaurant where you’re having dinner and stands in the doorway for an hour, watching the chefs prepare the meals.
No one shooed it away -- apparently, this friendly beast drops by each evening to welcome guests to the restaurant.
And then -- another one walks in! It’s just one of the many sublime sights at the heaven on earth called Palolem Beach in southern Goa, where I’m wrapping up my last days in India...


 
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