That is how Francis greeted me as I boarded a local bus from Calangute to Baga on a hot and humid afternoon in Goa. I heard the words as I was taking a seat while talking to the conductor but didn’t pay attention to see who the speaker was as I didn’t think they were meant for me.

“Hello Indian tourist,” the man sitting on the seat in front of me had turned and was facing me now.

He was dark complexioned with ragged features, wore a fisherman’s cap and had the air and authority of a local resident.

“Hello.” I said.

“I can see that you are an Indian tourist so I thought I should say hello to you.”

Three times now. “Why Indian tourist? Are you not an Indian?” I retorted.

“No, no! I am Goan. I am from this place. I could look at you and tell that you are not a Goan.”

“Okay, but Goa is a part of India, isn’t it ?”

“Yeah, on the map, maybe. But you see, we got our independence from the Portuguese in 1961, unlike India which got its independence from the British in ’47. Our independence struggle was much longer than yours. So we are a bit different from you Indians.”

“In fact we even like the British. You will see that we speak our English differently as many of us have learnt our English directly from them.”

Even with all the cultural diversity in India, I had never met someone who had such strong opinions about his own identity as different from the national identity. The struggles for independence for Goans and Indians were indeed against different opposition; while the British had ruled the rest of India for around 200 years, the Portuguese reign on Goans had spanned almost 450 years.

“So how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Today is my second day. What is your name?”

“I am Francis… Francis D’Souza. I am a fisherman from Baga. So you have been looking for some fun ? ”

“What do you mean ? ”

“Like something other than the beaches, the food… something more exciting or adventurous, you know…” Francis winked at me.

“No. Not really.” I understood what he meant.

“Don’t mind. I know you must be good and not cheap like most Indian tourists. They mostly come here and exploit Goa’s free culture.”

“In what way?”

“Well, most guys come here and the first thing on their mind is where can they f**k,” explained Francis with anger in his voice and relevant hand gestures.”

“where can they get gaanja, hash and other stuff. I mean, you guys come here believing you can do anything, feed your dirty mind, and pollute our place.”

“Come on! Even the foreigners who come here look for drugs, casinos and all. Don’t they?” I tried to defend my countrymen.

“They do, but they don’t go around showing it as a badge of honor the way Indian tourists do. The foreigners are more open minded. They don’t give you a second glance if you are talking to a girl on the beach.

“You guys need to understand that just because a woman is lying nude on the beach, it doesn’t mean she is a prostitute. I ask you, what if you don’t get water for two days? What will you do? Your lips will be parched and I say you will lick from the gutter to survive.

“Westerners don’t get enough sunlight so they are sun bathing to fulfill an important need. You guys go around taking pictures of women in bikini or lying nude. In the past we used to beat the shit out of anyone messing around like that. ”

“Does that mean I am in danger here?” I quipped.

“No, no… please don’t take it the wrong way. I know you are a nice guy. I am just saying that in the past we never used to tolerate anyone who would not give proper respect to our culture and its freedom. Most guys have no decency to dress properly. They go around wearing those 100 rupees multicolored shorts and chappals. If you go to another city, you should respect its people and culture. We welcome you all. We want you to come here and enjoy but you should know how to behave.”

“Please don’t mind my words. I know that your generation is more open and broad minded. You guys belong to what we call as Narendra Modi’s India. You must have studied in co-ed system?”

“Yes.”

“So you understand friendship between boys and girls. You know how to respect women and giving space to people. You know, that just because a girl is seen talking to a guy that doesn’t mean she is having sex with him.”

I kept nodding my head with Francis’ amusing banter.

“This is Baga village, you see. This is my village,” said Francis as the bus passed through the streets of Baga. “Have you been to Tito’s? Heard of it? It is the most famous club at Baga.”

“No. I may go there later,” I said.

“We can go now. You can come with me…” said Francis.

After hearing his views about Indian tourists, going with him to a club was definitely not on my list.

“Not now. Maybe later.” I said in a polite tone.

“Okay. I will get down here but you have fun. Don’t worry. Goa is a great place so enjoy. See you,” and thus my brief encounter with Francis came to an end.

A minute later the bus halted at its last stop, Baga beach. As I got down, I thought that Francis’ views, although right to an extent, stemmed from his bias towards non-Goan Indians whom he considers a separate species.  It also made me realize how locals in any place can feel strongly about strangers coming to their lands as tourists in search of fun at the expense of their resources. While for any popular destination, tourism may be an important source of revenue and employment, it is the responsibility of the tourists to respect the place’s environment, people and their cultural values.

As Francis said, guests are welcome but none of us would like a stranger to come to our home and make a mess of it.