God, give me a sign

If you're a stranger in these parts, the chances of you getting quite lost are quite high.

Unlike city folk, villagers don't need signs to tell them what is what. They know, as they've always known: where the bus stops and how to get to wherever it is they want to go.

So there are no bus stops. But if you find some people standing aimlessly by the side of the road, chances are they're waiting for a bus. But equally they could be just standing aimlessly.

As for road signs, it's not as if there are none. There's some very grand looking signage in blue and white, but it offers information that's quite useless. So a stranger looking for Palolem beach will learn that Mumbai is 590 km up north, or that Cochin, in the opposite direction, is 720 km away, but he will remain quite clueless about the direction to the beach.

Those who've been here long enough don't bother with road signs. They look around instead for a walkie-talkie. A walkie-talkie is a local passing by, someone who might give you a sign that you're not lost.

Where's Palolem beach?

Two kilometers, the walkie-talkie sign will say, pointing.

Agonda beach?

Two kilometers, pointing in another direction.

Patnem beach?

Two kilometers, waving in yet another direction.

Providing a postal address to locate someone's house is equally useless. The only way is to describe the person or the landmark.

Yellow house with green gate and very ferocious white dog somewhere near the masjid? – you ask hopefully.

Ah, see there? Go left, go right, go left right left right.

So you go left, go right, go left right left right – as directed. And when you find you're quite lost, you stop to ask yet another walkie-talkie sign.

With a friendly smile he'll direct you.