steak, and watched the sunset. Then I had to fly to Bombay for more money. I took three thousand dollars from my safety deposit box, doubled it by changing it on the black market, and flew back.

Determined to stay healthy that season, I went to Paradise Pharmacy in Mapusa and asked for suggestions. They told me about a substance called electrolytes used by pregnant women, anaemic, and people with dysentery. I bought a supply, along with calcium pills and one-a-day vitamin supplements.

Back on the beach, I bought dope and coke-for myself and to spare with others.

During the day, after hours in the sun or a tour of the flea market. I'd join the house-to-house visiting and communal turn ons. Goa life centred on visiting. Nobody (except me) kept their doors locked, and friends just walked in and sat down. Alehandro's house by Joe Banana's always had a crowd and was the standard place to stop on the way to check for mail  'BOMBOLAII' Eight to fifteen people would lounge on his thick Afghani rug, in the centre of which reigned Alehandro and the bhong.

'Ola, Cleo,' would come his loud voice.  'Que pasa? Come have a bhong.'

If you had a stash, it was customary to take it out—once the initial welcome bhong had been passed and smoked—and to make the next round of bhongs for everyone. On the carpet would be at least one mirror for making lines of coke. Big-shots made lines for everybody, but it was okay to offer a turn-on only to Alehandro and those close by. I made bhongs and lines for the whole company. I loved feeling like a successful Goa resident. With monsoon business over, party time awaited us.

Alehandro had an entourage of followers who lived with him and ran his errands. This group consisted of those who were interested in partaking of the free flow of drugs and frequent feasts. This season I noticed it was Hollywood Peter who sat at Alehandro's elbow and who scurried to Joe Banana's when Alehandro yelled, 'Juice. What, we have no more juice?'

'Peter, wait,' I called, holding up the mirror. 'Here, have a line to get you there and back.'

I resumed bhong-making. I loved watching the eyes of those sitting nearby as they anticipated who'd be passed the next one. I poured more coke on the mirror. 'You should see the red Buddha bhong I bought in Canada,' I announced. 'Why don't you all come by later. . .'

'Did you hear the news?' asked Georgette, accepting the bhong I held out. 'They're bringing electricity to the beach.'

'Lino, my landlord, told me,' I answered. 'I'll believe it when I see it. It'll be like that bridge they're building —under construction for the next fifty years.'

'No. They're already stringing wires,' said Norwegian Monica. 'I've seen them.'

'Electricity! It'll ruin the beach,' Paul stated forcefully.

When I left Alehandro's, I headed inland to Gregory's restaurant.  I ordered the day's misspelled speciality, Lobster Stew, and joined some friends at a wobbly table. At the end sat Ashley wearing a straw hat with a two- foot-long feather.

'Gregory would have served you a crustacean without the stew if you'd asked,' said Dayid with a lobster in front of him. 'Do you know, a sea anemone is not really a flower, but is composed of solitary polyps grouped together?'

I flicked a caterpillar off the table and settled down to eat. I almost choked on my mashed potatoes when I saw who sauntered in.

'Hey, hey! Narayan!' shouted someone at another table.

Ashley and I exchanged looks.

'Looks like your nemesis from Bali,' said Dayid. They knew my story with Narayan. By this time Dayid who snorted smack heavily, and the thought of Narayan's tossing my pound of it into the ocean was enough to make him forget the lobster claw in his hand.

Narayan sat at a table opposite us. When he saw me, he offered a lopsided sank.

My fury at him returned full force. The wrath and frustration he'd caused had not subsided one Speck. I'd never gotten revenge.

We were seated facing one another, and our eyes kept meeting. I wanted to squish my potatoes up his nose with the pointy end of a fork. That wouldn't make for a tranquil season, though. How would I deal with Narayan?

I pushed my plate away. 'Enough of this! Who's ready for a nice snoot of smack?'

I didn't wear the orange sannyas outfits long. I never wore much of anything in Goa, and what I did wear wasn't orange. Since the mala didn't feel right over blue or green, I stored it in the safe, using the blowtorched hole as a door.

Settled into Anjuna life, I went to meet Inspector Navelcar of the Panjim police.

The Panjiin police complex consisted of low buildings framing a courtyard of shrubs. I climbed creaky wooden stairs, as directed, and introduced myself to Inspector Navelcar. He didn't leave me standing in the hallway, as was typical of Indian bureaucrats. If the lawyer had accomplished nothing else, at least he'd paved my way to respect in India's system of caste and status.

While Inspector Navelcar and I chatted, half the police force found a reason to poke their heads in the doorway to peek at the 'hippie.' The inspector and I got along well, though he never believed a word I said. Apparently they'd read the letters in my safe, some of which had been revealing-of scams, drugs, and illegal money. Stupid me, I should have learned that lesson in Australia. What could I say to the Inspector? He'd learned my secrets. I could only be, and be obviously in order not to offend him.

'Oh, I made that up,' I said to his query of a Canadian scam I'd written about. 'It's a fantasy.' I twinkled at the Inspector to let him know I knew that he knew the truth. I shrugged a shoulder to convey my apology for having no alternative but to be. I didn't want to appear to be conning him. He seemed a nice man. He was just doing his job. I didn't want to hurt his Feelings.

'Ah! A fantasy!' he twinkled back. 'The part about making twenty-thousand dollars from selling hash in Australia, a fantasy?'

'Yes. I wanted to impress my friends back home.'

He paused. I shrugged.

'You are telling me this is not true, then?'

'Right. I never did that. I made it up.'

I smiled foolishly at Inspector Navelcar, and he smiled back.

'About Laos and a tube of toothpaste . . . ?'

'I invented everything,' I answered, raising my eyebrows to beg forgiveness.

'So, you are saying you did none of the things written in the letters?'

'Right.'

We smiled at each other.

There was no point in going further. He ordered tea for me, and that was the end of that.

'Can I have the movies back?'

'Yes, yes. A simple formality.'

I'd already been exposed to what Indians called 'simple formalities' and sighed as I realized the ordeal coming my way. Damn Giuliano.

Even simply paying the fine was not simple, since no one knew exactly where the form was or who had to write it up or what I was being fined for. I spent all day at the station. I spent quite a few days at the station. Mostly it was a question of finding the right room, or the right person, or the person with the right stamp, or the right day for that particular person, or the right day for a particular procedure. And then, when everything WAS right—hey, where did he go? He has left. Personal business. Come back tomorrow.

Somehow, miraculously, I eventually recovered the movies (except the porno), and Inspector Navelcar and I became friends in the process.

'Hi,' I said, knocking courteously at his office door. 'I want to let you know I have the films. Thank you for your help.'

He smiled broadly and stood up. 'So, it is finished now?'