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  • hardie karges 1:31 pm on April 21, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Chinatown, , Georgetown, , Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Pening   

    #KualaLumpur #Penang #Malaysia: It was Chinatown, Jake… 

    Chinatown, Georgetown, Peneng, Malaysia

    Chinatown, Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia

    Malaysia is generic Asia, composite Asia, Malaysia Inc more a country than a nation, a piece of land—God’s palette—and composed mostly of ethnic Malays, Chinese, and Indians, united more by rice and noodles, aunts and uncles, than English laws or legalisms, but they don’t call it ‘diaspora’ unless it’s bad news—Africans or Jews; that doesn’t include Europeans with money, Thai females with domestic skills, Indian merchants with cloth or Chinese mom and pop with family back home Hokkien or Fukien their way up the food chain to a better life, the more money the more kids the better…

    (More …)

     
    • Esther Fabbricante 3:06 pm on April 21, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Your way with words still amazes me, and I enjoyed this new post.

      Our Easter Sunday went beautifully – at church, and lunch, at nap time, and weather-wise.

      Esther

      • hardie karges 2:32 am on April 22, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        Always nice to hear from you, Esther. There will be one more installment on Malaysia, then I’ll take a break for a while. Please stay tuned.

  • hardie karges 1:17 pm on April 13, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , Mt. Lavinia, Negombo,   

    #Colombo #SriLanka, part 2: In Search of a City in Search of a Beach 

    Beach at Mt. Lavinia, Sri Lanka

    Beach at Mt. Lavinia, Sri Lanka

    Sunday finally comes and I haven’t been to church since February 2012, in Majuro FSM, back when I figured I might be dying pick a cancer any cancer must’ve worked ’cause I certainly don’t feel like I’m dying now never felt more alive in fact, death now on back burner status indefinite hiatus waiting for a call-back and options on future rights plus a more prominent role in the sequel, agents negotiating furiously…

    Christian Church in Negombo, Sri Lanka

    Christian Church in Negombo, Sri Lanka

    So I figure now’s a good time, put on my best Muslim shirt—white muslin—and go look for a Christian church, Baptist is too small don’t wanna’ be noticed, Methodist too hot there on the sunny side of the street, so today I’m Catholic with high arches and cool temps and the canonical language mostly in English, God knowing I’m glad to be Buddhist so that I can do whatever I want as long as it hurts nobody and even quaff a brew or mount racy steed if I have a thirst and a need and fertile soil begging seed, no matter what any guy with a book or a beard has to say about it…

    (More …)

     
    • Esther Fabbricante 7:02 pm on April 13, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Another great post – we went to Brandon Methodist today – Palm Sunday. Very busy week ahead, being Holy Week. (Allegrezza Piano Co. moved my Steinway from my house to Charla’s house last week, and the symphony last night was thrilling – featuring four generations of the Loudenich family premiering in the USA at Christ UMC in Jackson.

  • hardie karges 1:13 pm on April 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , ,   

    SRI LANKA, part I: Buddhists, Muslims, and Christians, Oh My! (and Tamils, too; they’re Hindu) 

    Welcome to Sri Lanka, home of Thereavada Buddhism...

    Welcome to Sri Lanka, home of Thereavada Buddhism…

    Maybe the nicest part of the Indian sub-continent is not India at all, but that southern neighbor composed of erstwhile immigrants, coming from both north and south, back in times of erst, looking for liebensraum or maybe just a living room, or a kitchen, looking for turf or maybe just booty, and instead found bounty, like the latter-day Portuguese or maybe their nemeses doubly Dutch, twice removed, once by the Portuguese and then by the Brits, on one of their infamous booty-calls that turned out historic…

    Wall paintings at Sigiriya, Sri Lanka

    Wall paintings at Sigiriya, Sri Lanka

    A stepping stone placed by Ganesha, it is said, perched cock-eyed cattywampus off India’s southern coast, like Taiwan to India’s China, an afterthought to continents, and just a stone’s throw across the old strait and narrow, lies the nation, Sri Lanka, by some accident of history and fate, geological and psychological, the migrations of peoples part of what it means to be human, part of what it means to be mortal part of what it means to be a creature of the dust on Planeta Tierra… (More …)

     
    • Esther Fabbricante 3:45 pm on April 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Another outstanding and interesting post. I don’t know how you get to so many different places.

      • hardie karges 11:17 pm on April 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        Thank you, Esther. I guess that when I get started, it’s hard to stop. :-)

    • vokland 5:40 pm on April 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Is it really drinkable that water from the tap?

      • hardie karges 11:10 pm on April 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        Hard to believe, I know, but yes, it really is…

        • vokland 4:50 am on April 11, 2014 Permalink

          Good to hear that! I’m going to Sri-Lanka this year myself. What I’ve found out from the Internet is quite different. I have another query if you don’t mind answering of course. What is the best way to travel around the island?

        • hardie karges 7:00 am on April 11, 2014 Permalink

          I prefer trains if there’s one to where you’re going. There are fewer of them, but they’re quite civilized compared to buses, as roads are slow and badly congested. There is no need for special foreigners’ ticket counters like India, either. Have a good trip and thanks for your comments.

        • vokland 7:27 am on April 11, 2014 Permalink

          Thank you! Looking forward to reading your upcoming stories!

        • hardie karges 7:56 am on April 11, 2014 Permalink

          You’re welcome!

    • hardie karges 11:08 pm on April 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Stay tuned for Sri Lanka, part 2…

  • hardie karges 8:36 pm on April 5, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , Maldives, Male'   

    #Male’ #Maldives: Caffeine in the Clubs, Muslims on the Beach 

    Burqas on the Beach in Male', Maldives

    Burqas on the Beach in Male’, Maldives

    The Maldives are a string of pearls posing as islands floating gracefully over the Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea, 1192 nuggets—1000 of them unpopulated—not simply strewn higgeldy-piggledy atoll, but arranged in a double helix and organized into garlands and necklaces and defined by water level as footprints over the ocean surface, any higher the water and they cease to exist as a landmass, demoted like Pluto by science, thereafter to live their life as a mere underwater ridge threatening ships and subs, number three on the international extinction list in fact highest point not much higher than an NBA starting center…

    Dockside in Male', Maldives

    Dockside in Male’, Maldives

    The Maldives must sound like a dream to anyone in Central Asia: Muslims—or me—high up on the hills in the ‘stans or the Kush on the steppes in the bush—cold barren steps to righteousness rewards guaranteed only in Heaven and I’d hedge my bets on that if I were you, where virgins must be bound and chained to maintain ritual purity and you need sheesha, shawarma and shish-kebabs to stay warm, curries lacking punch and pungency for lack of spices, so might as well forget them altogether, get your bellyful of gusto from a goat slowly roasting over charcoal and incense…

    Market in Male', Maldives

    Market in Male’, Maldives

    The Maldives must have been the Islamic paradigm for paradise, pristine waters warm and wonderful, perfectly azure going to like them, gently throbbing surf and all the fish you can eat, French fries and hush-puppies optional, palms gently swaying coconuts bananas and mango for the picking, and a handsome gentle populace, smiles free and willing and a warm island welcome for the tired weary traveler, like Ibn Battutah, the Muslim Marco Polo, way back in the 1300′s, he and his four local wives, not counting slaves, blogging it for the future and trying to civilize the natives, trying to get the women to wear clothes…

    Airport Ferry in Male', Maldives

    Airport Ferry in Male’, Maldives

    That’s no problem today boohoo many wearing full burqa head to toe, others toeing the line of holy writ with fashion scarves and pseudo-veils still others naked-faced and unafraid sucking face in parks with boyfriends just like back home, but some even wearing full burqa in the surf as custom permits if hubby requires it rules and regulations getting tougher all the time…

    No one would take a second glance but me and any lifeguard forced to rescue such dead textile weight from the surf, I wonder if they even remove the burqa to copulate and populate, got an eye slit up top should have a pink slit down under for those intimate moments when nothing else will do, most men in the world having never seen their wives naked in the first place, could easily fake it with silicone and lipstick who’d know the difference anyway…

    On the Beach near Airport in Male', Maldives

    On the Beach near Airport in Male’, Maldives

    But the modern nation is a beachy sun-bleachy ‘Muslim Lite’ to be sure, for the most part, thinly veiled women allowed to ride motorbikes and move freely on road and beach, while thinly veiled Rasta-men, cigs dangling from tender lips sip caffeinated drinks in the pubs and clubs, Red Bull instead of Red Hook, the better to stay awake during prayers, yeah right, uh huh, fortunately the Rastas have other sacraments, too, I bet, the better to transmit the DNA of island culture from Caribbean to South Pacific all the way to here, God’s little GMO people half-African half-Indian half-Arabian…

    Cafe in Male, Maldives

    Cafe in Male, Maldives

    Still though she may sell seashells in the Seychelles, he is more likely to be selling them here, managing the women by managing the money, too bad, hawking the same cheap 50′s curio crap that used to be sold in a million souvenir shops, as they’re still called here, from Daytona to Durban to Copacabana to Capetown to here, a guaranteed catch for lackadaisical beachcombers with fewer hairs to comb even than beaches, more tall tales to tell than true travels…

    Most tourists go to the fancy resorts, of course, couple hundred bucks a night and up, sipping the pricey drinks that are forbidden to locals, prices so high already no one knows the difference, but I don’t do any of that, I content to be a vulcha in search of kulcha, settling for rice and noodles greased up in the same island way that passes for local in the Caribbean and Pacific, the better to weigh you down in the hot sun and steamy skies, tuna this tuna that fresh from the boat nothing Star-Kist on these starry starry nights, sorry Charlie, we want tuna that tastes good…

    Hardship Posting in Male', Maldives

    Hardship Posting in Male’, Maldives

    You can circumnavigate the entire main island in an hour or so, walking at a moderate pace with time for sight-seeing, the pint-sized capital of Male’ is that small, dodging motorbike maniacs, cafes and boutiques lining streets called ‘magu’ with a distinct nasal accent in my mind’s ear, enterprises ranging from distinct downscale but trending up…

    One hour of walking and you’re drenched must shower and start all over again, temps almost constant all day all year no more than 5c/10f variation from low to high, but the night is a different world come alive with heavy metal playing in the park, halogen and benzene, motorbikes backed out into the street like Ramadan at midnight waiting to fill and before the sun comes up…

    It almost reminds me of Montego or Bali planes surfing in low onto airstrip promontories, here the airstrip bigger than the big city itself and rickety ferries take you to fragile landmasses still it’s all good fun and unique if not always cheap but that’s all relative, isn’t it? If we can’t be family, then at least we can be friends, that’s the island way, mon, but it’s truly strange to think that some day not long from now this could all be gone, submerged, covered with water and left for future archeologists to pick up the pieces, try to make sense of it all…

     
    • Esther Fabbricante 9:42 pm on April 5, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Your writing is still astounding and captivating and I look forward to our new posts with great anticipation and eagerness.

    • hardie karges 1:21 am on April 6, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Thank you, Esther,,,

    • Esther Fabbricante 3:24 am on April 7, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      A very rainy Sunday here – Greg’s 62nd birthday- my child #3 of 5.

  • hardie karges 12:47 pm on April 4, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , ,   

    Election Day in #Kabul #Afghanistan 

     

    Karzai and author Hardie Karges

    Karzai and author Hardie Karges

    Tomorrow is election day in Afghanistan, and all fingers are crossed, all eyes watching. Regardless of who wins, the future is not so bright. The Taliban vows to punish anyone who votes. And they aren’t known for making idle promises. Of course the real challenge begins when the US pulls out later this year, and questions remain what sort of contingency will live on here. The smart money would probably bet on smart money, with few soldiers. That would probably be the best move.

    Of course the widely predicted civil war won’t necessarily occur when the US pulls out, and if it does, that doesn’t mean that the Taliban will win again. Another possibility is that the country might be partitioned de facto into a Taliban-controlled south and a more liberal—less conservative, that is—’Muslim lite’ north, where women can walk the streets without a burqa and men can eventually learn to appreciate that, and their equality. Isn’t that the real problem anyway: ignorant a**hole macho men who’d rather beat women down than lift themselves up? Old ways die hard, I guess… (More …)

     
    • Esther Fabbricante 3:57 pm on April 4, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      I am astounded by your knowledge of the situation there and do appreciate your input.

    • REM 5:29 am on April 5, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Quite insightful as usual…and happy to see your death wish went unfulfilled…

      • hardie karges 8:19 pm on April 5, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        Yeah, me, too, overall a worthwhile experience, actually… me, bad-ass? Ha!

  • hardie karges 12:25 pm on March 23, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , ,   

    #Kabul #Afghanistan: Jihad for Dummies, Spring Hopes Eternal 

    God & State in Kabul, Afghanistan

    God & State in Kabul, Afghanistan

    The queue for Safi Air flight #248 from Delhi to Kabul looks like something of a loya jirga in itself, businessmen and diplomats, village traders of lapis lazuli, scammers and schemers, all going back to the homeland for one reason or another, all with excess baggage—fridges toasters and microwaves, dreams hopes and expectations—all wearing long tunics baggy trousers and funny hats, all speaking strange tongues and whispering strange sighs, body odors wafting from overcoats whose histories likely date back to eras unspecified and improperly documented.

    Any one of these guys could be a Taliban terrorist, al-Qaeda conniver or Saudi Salafist, down on his luck up on his religion out of his rightful mind and into the only one that’s left, high-tailing it or in-boxing it or tweeting it or snap-chatting architectural blueprints for any one of 1000′s of memorials and buildings and airports freely available on Internet and suitable for bombing.  That’s probably what they’re saying about me, too, CIA or worse, agent provocateur.

      (More …)

     
    • Esther Fabbricante 6:29 pm on March 23, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Hardie: Where did you learn to be such a prolific writer – or were you born with the talent?
      I’m glad you are out of Kabul.

      • hardie karges 11:46 am on March 24, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        I came into this world kicking and screaming, born with little or nothing. :-) Actually I think one just has to write a million words and then see what he has. I started writing poetry and am currently mixing that into my travel narrative, which I think comes out interesting, maybe a pleasant change for both, will continue as long as you and a few others appreciate it. Thanks for your comments.

    • Jewceeme 7:49 pm on March 23, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      I would love to know what kind of moonshine and other booze you encounter. I’m genuinely interested in what people drink. Easy for a man to get in on such things. As a female, I’m afraid I’d be peeling potatoes in the back of the house if I ever visit. And please post as much as possible–I’m fascinated with Afghanistan! Thank you for letting us visit vicariously through you!!

      • hardie karges 11:41 am on March 24, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        I’m sure you know that Afghanistan is a Muslim country, so any alcohol is pretty much kept under wraps. I’m sure that you would be more likely to encounter it in the ‘Muslim lite’ north than the Taliban-infested south, but I doubt much even then, possibly most likely in the Tajik strongholds around Fayzabad, which the Taliban never controlled. I have drunk beer and partied with Tajik females on holiday in Samarkand, so it IS possible, but Afghanistan is probably not the best place to do it, a bit of a dicey proposition for any sort of tourism right now with the election coming up, and the future uncertain. Considering that a journalist was killed in broad daylight a few weeks ago, even Kabul is not especially safe, though I encountered no problem. I hope to get back to the region soon, as all the ‘stans loom large on my list, currently on hold for a variety of personal and logistical reasons… thanks for your comments. :-)

        • Sunshine 3:53 am on March 28, 2014 Permalink

          I don’t believe for a second booze (whether beer or moonshine) isn’t available. But only males can get easy access. As for your safety that is another matter. Yes, be safe! But everybody tells you that and you know it already :)

    • Traveling Ted 5:03 pm on March 28, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      I concur with Esther. Although I enjoyed reading Hypertravel, this post shows you have improved your writing skills dramatically since that was published. This is brilliant. You have a lot of courage to be traveling in Afghanistan right now, but I am sure you are safer than many people think.

      • hardie karges 2:58 am on March 30, 2014 Permalink | Reply

        Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ted. Actually the main real difference is that I’ve consciously decided to adapt my ‘poetry mode’ to travel writing, not sure if I could get away with it. Thanx again…

  • hardie karges 1:53 am on March 19, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , Rishikesh   

    Holidays, Holi Days, Sad Farewells: #Rishikesh #Delhi #India 

    Holi Days in Delhi

    Holi Days in Delhi

    India is a mother, a matrix, mysterious and meandering, wise beyond her kitchen, beautiful despite her years, charming the pants off conquerors and traders and holy men and saints, opening doors only to close them behind you, stooping to fawn and pander with multiple options for ongoing investment, financial packaging and advantageous positions in the futures market…

    India is a monster, cruel and conniving, filthy and chaotic, devious and diabolic, two-faced and teeming with too many people, a misplaced anger and aggression mutated into a caste system for the classists and classes, a hierarchy for racists, upward mobility for the wealthy, and a religion guaranteed to keep it that way, laws for the lawless, feuds for the feudal, but no food for the hungry…

    The truth lies somewhere in between, of course, India defined by the resolution of her opposites, her non-attachment to outcomes, her negligence of incomes, her preference to survive rather than thrive, her attachment to a certain past rather than an uncertain future, her inattention to details while concentrating on big pictures, closed doors and closed windows, warm in here, but a bit stuffy, too…

    Holi in Delhi

    Holi in Delhi

    Spring in India comes with a nod and a wink and an invitation to drink, a holiday called Holi day, a celebration of colors and indulgence in opposites, a day of rest for Big People and a day of party for Jungsters exploring the subconscious, the subliminal, anything but the subway system in Delhi, closed until 2 p.m, partiers intoxicated in broad daylight, released from the confines of dark rooms dark encounters and the dark people from down south…

    It’s no big deal, really, more like Halloween with a condom, a few kids cut loose with crayon-like cannons and a few water pistols, terrorizing the street in the wee hours of dawn, while the food vendors dodge powders and the sleeping dogs yawn, India waking up slowly on even a good day, Holi providing a further rain check and incentive to sleep in, put off until tomorrow what you weren’t likely to do today anyway, but at least now there’s a justification for it…

    You can visit Rishikesh on a day trip from Delhi if you’ve got the balls and the alarm clock, six connections in sixteen hours, catch the 0700 tourist train, villagers need not apply, blurry pictures outside the window complete with breakfast, pollution rising with the elevation, neat trick of cities to send the smog upstream, caught a local bus from the rail-head at Haridwar with no problem walked right to it as if I’d done it a thousand times, didn’t have to waste ten minutes in transit…

    Rishikesh, India on the Ganges

    Rishikesh, India on the Ganges

    Haridwar is for pilgrims but Rishikesh even more so, the Ganges in all its glory for ritual purification, or maybe just for crossing to the other side, something pilgrims specialize at, reducing life’s big issues to symbolism and superstition, crossing t’s and dotting i’s with correct keystrokes and all due diligence, if you can purify India with a few wafts of incense and a few whiffs of ganja, then why not do so, certainly saves on the research and development costs….

    The Beatles are all gone now, and the Rolling Stones, too, but a few hangers-on are still hanging on, a few Beach Boys sunning on southern beaches, junkies in Delhi twirling their noodles with expert strokes of the fork and not much else, budget-oriented backpackers on gap year holiday, fat-bellied ex-pats with Hawaiian shirts and no place better to go, a few souls seeking spirituality, and the odd intellectual trying to figure it all out, somehow all making sense some way…

    Broad daylight in Delhi

    Broad daylight in Delhi

    Good-bye, mother and monster, not until much later will I see you.  Good-bye, motorbike maniacs and tuk-tuk tormenters, gunning it at me just to see me run.   Good-bye, chaiwallahs and coffeewallahs, you and your teas and coffee that are somehow always white not black.   Good-bye, sacred cows and dirty rats, your sacredness and filth neither clearly defined nor comprehensible.  Good-bye starers gawkers and sleepwalkers, somehow you’ll get somewhere some day.  And most of all, good-bye, holy men and beggars, the only difference between you one of rewards and expectations. 

    Most of all, India is a mirror; if you look hard enough, you’ll see something of yourself in all the chaos and disorder, a Rorshach test of the soul, a road map of your own…

     
    • Tomas Belcik 2:26 am on March 20, 2014 Permalink | Reply

      Why travel to India?
      An impatience of spirit, a desire for wisdom and a passion for the saner pursuits of the mind is unintentionally imbibed by those who travel to India. There is more to this country than Taj Mahal, Himalayas or the sacred river Ganga; INDIA is an opportunity to explore the realms of ones spiritual being, of reaching out to the unknown, to discover the deeper truth that is life.

      There is no other country on earth that can exude such a remarkable variety of cultures and landscape! Only in India!

      As the Mahabharata says, “What is here, may be elsewhere, but what is not here is nowhere”.

  • hardie karges 2:24 pm on March 15, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Gaurav Boarding House, , , , Mathura, Uttar Pradesh   

    Indian Deliverance: #Mathura #Uttar Pradesh #India 

    Getting redy for holi celebrations inMathura, India

    Getting redy for holi celebrations inMathura, India

    Delhi suburbs are z-z-z-l-e-e-p-y, (y-a-w-n-n-n), and you could almost convince yourself that life inside the cocoon could always be like this, z-z-zlow and laz-z-z-y, but all good things must come to an end, soooo… spike my veins with pure caffeine, catch the early morning bus to Uttar Pradesh, Mathura to be exact, got a rep as a hot place to party for Holi festival of lights, festival of colored powders, festival of partiers without borders, guard your private parts if you want to keep them that way….

    Bus takes on passengers from an undefined spot in an undefined lot, on the outskirts of town, ready to go whenever from wherever, transvestite comes on the bus posing as the ticket collector woulda had me fooled if he/she weren’t such the fool herself, with her fanny pack as decoy and her silly grin as the main ploy, posing as only God knows what when the sun goes down and Lord only knows who or what else, nobody else gives her money so I don’t either… (More …)

     
  • hardie karges 2:37 am on March 11, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , Kovalam   

    #Kovalam #Kerala #India: Beaches, Hostels, and Wise Cracks 

    Miracle Mile at Kovalam Beach, India

    Miracle Mile at Kovalam Beach, India

    Kovalam is the kind of place that Lonely Planet writers like to disparage as having sold out to commercial interests long ago, with their chock-a-block cafes and resto–bars and boutiques a la Cannes, while noting how Varkala up the road manages to maintain its wild and rustic more authentic nature. I beg to differ. For one thing: Kovalam ain’t that bad. For another thing: Varkala ain’t that good. These are basically your two beach options within an hour’s ride of the Keralan capital Trivandrum, aka Thiruvananthapuram (say that three times really fast and try to pull your tongue through the loop).

    -

    True, Kovalam is a fairly homogenized and pasteurized version of an Indian beach town, leaning toward European models and menus, with paved sidewalks and handrails to boot, all clean and neat and ready for biz. But it’s also an upgrade. Is that such a bad thing? LP makes it sound like Kuta Beach in Bali, sprawling for miles down a previously pristine coast, serving banana pancakes in what were once temples, and drinking wine from monkey skulls. Nothing could be further from the truth. (More …)

     
  • hardie karges 2:20 pm on March 6, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , Kochi   

    #Kochi #Kerala #India: Third Time’s a Charm 

    Old Town Kochi, India

    Old Town Kochi, India

    I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t been dissatisfied with my previous digs in Varkala and Alleppey, so I figured if I’m going to make a move, then I might as well head up the road. Actually that was my conundrum from the beginning, knowing that Kerala in general is interesting and diverse, so where exactly then do I start and stop? So I punted and caught the train to Trivandrum, figuring to find a nearby beach whereon to hang. I’ve been backtracking ever since, though still no more than a few hours from the big city.

    Kochi’s worth it, maybe not for the beach, though I don’t really know, but for the historic city itself, based around the old fort and port. This was an old stronghold for the Portuguese and an entrepot for many over the centuries, including ancient Christian sects and Jews expelled from the Roman burning of the temple at Jerusalem in 70 AD. The fact that it was so easily reachable from the early Roman world even adds fuel to the fire as to whether Jesus himself might not have wintered over here in his formative years, doing something similar to what the Beatles would do some two thousand years later.

      (More …)

     
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