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Published: April 6th 2007
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Train View
The open, though rather cage-like windows of sleeper class offer some nice views of the countryside as it passes by. After getting in rather late from Kanyakumari, and having to get up early the next morning, I was not really in the mood for the 20hr train journey up to Goa. Last time I was in India, I'd done some trains, but splashed out on the more deluxe 2-tier AC class. This time, in search of a more authentic experience, I opted for regular sleeper class at a quarter of the price. The comfort, though not as high, was still sufficient and the locals that ride in this class make for a much more interesting journey. Watching an Indian mother clump balls of rice and curry together out of a banana leaf and feed her three hungry chick-like kids by hand is something you'd only see on a train ride in India. And, as with all train rides in India, this one was not without its incidents...
Like I mentioned before, I was sharing a berth with, amongst others, a mother her three kids. Now i don't know if I knocked the tap on their jug, or one of the kids left it open (I think it was more likely the aforementioned), but at some point in the journey,
Train View 2
Passing a little village. a good portion of their drink reserves for the trip ended up all over the floor. And as they were going all the way to Mumbai (another 14hrs or so more than me), I felt pretty bad when the kids weren't allowed anything to drink after their meals. Testament to Indian generosity, the mother even offered me some of their drink when i was in obvious discomfort after my water supplies ran out half way through my spicy train food. I politely refused what resembled dirty dishwater, only to have my entire berth hassle anyone official-looking that walked past to bring me a bottle of water. Once you get away from the scammers, the Indians really are beautiful people. Well to a certain extent anyway...
As I felt a little guilty about possibly spilling their drink, I was more than happy to oblige when the mother asked if i could swap my cosy bottom bunk for her daughter's slightly less cosy, side-on top bunk. After all, these people were prepared to share their few drops of dirty dishwater with me. My impression of them went downhill soon afterwards when I was awoken in the middle of the night and
Train View Sunset
Hanging out the door of the train, watching the sun set over India as it flies by... Good times. informed that the bed I had been swapped with, was actually someone else's. Having then to wake up this woman and get her out of my bed was another mission in itself.
Eventually, tired and exhausted, I arrived at Goa's main station. Tryin to figure out which is your stop at 5:30 in the morning is the other down side to Indian train travel, but I managed unchain all my luggage and get off before I ended up god-knows-where. I jumped on a motorcycle taxi (licensed form of transport in Goa) after my initial apprehensions gave way to ego when the drivers told me that grandmothers weren't scared of them. I slept most of the 2hr bus trip out to Palolem beach, though at one point awoke to find myself mid-way through launching the poor Indian girl next to me off her seat as the bus flew around a corner.
I arrived at Palolem beach around midday, and looked at a few places before deciding on a rather decrepit, but ideally located, hut right on the beach. Palolem, although very ideallic with it's palm-lined, white sand beach, had obviously changed a lot in the few years since my
Hut View
The view from the "porch" of my little beach hut. Not too shabby. aging lonely planet was written. Wall-to-wall shacks and huts now lined the beach's entire expanse, and instead of the hippies i expected to find, there was nothin but sunbed after sunbed of week-long tourists on their vacations. Not many stingy backpackers such as myself either. The government's attempts to curb the party scene in Goa seemed to be pretty successful also, with only one place really staying open past the curfew of 10pm (it's quite strange to be handed a flyer for a night at a club, claiming an awesome trance party from mid afternoon till 10pm). Despite these setbacks, I did enjoy my time here - morning swims (with dolphins for two of them!) followed by exploration of the neighbouring beaches and nights spent drinkin cheap beer, cocktails and feni (a local cashew liquour) with a whole lot of relaxing in between.
There was this one night though that I thought I'd go check out some live music, advertised as "Gogi + Friends". "Gogi" turned out to be some pissed English ex-pat playin an acoustic and singing a few songs, getting progressively worse as the night wore on and the vodkas were downed. The "friends" advertised turned out
My Hut
Nice location, but pretty basic inside. to be people like me (well only me) who were stupid enough to stick up their hand when Gogi asked if there were any guitarists in the audience. At first I politely declined his invitations to give him a "much needed breather", but these invitations soon turned to drunken whinges and demands. Eventually I was left with little choice but to uncharacteristically get up on stage and burn through a couple of songs in front of an audience of about 20. Having not played in over a month, and getting a little pissed myself, my renditions were rather sloppy, but nevertheless appreciated, if only to stop Gogi whinging.
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