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Published: April 18th 2005
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So how does one describe Palolem? You could mention the beautiful beach, palm trees, weather, food, bars, ocean view huts etc etc..... but where's the fun in that?
To me Palolem is a world of contrasts. From your ultimate hippie living up in the palm tree wearing nothing but a piece of string covering his crack and a small leather flap protecting his sack to your charter flown English royalty type living in a 5 star hotel - "anyone fancy a game of golf?" Then there are those that fall somewhere in between. I suppose the important message I'm trying to get across here is to choose your company wisely, otherwise you might find yourself playing golf wearing nothing more than a leather flap.
The most important aspect that can make or break you here is establishing yourself in one of the several social scenes. I was fortunate enough to be staying at a place where great people, with vast amounts of talent, would hang about. On my second night there I was inducted into the group thanks to my fellow Aussie connection. She dedicated a well known Oz song on my behalf and that was my ticket in.
The group of Irish, English, Liverpool (which I've been told is not really part of England) and Aussie combined well and we drunk well into the night. Singing, laughing, drinking, talking, drinking and singing. Now this is what traveling is all about.
You then must go out and work the crowds, suss out the situation. A short stroll or should I say stumble up the beach will take you to a place called laughing Buddha. After a couple of beers and some insignificant, bullshit rants to complete strangers you quickly realise that there's nothing funny about the place. Buddha is probably laughing at the idiotic and inept behavior displayed by most that frequent this place. Don't get me wrong, I did meet some top people their, but at the same time, there was a small cult type atmosphere their. A group of young English guys and girls seemed to claim ownership of the place. I got no problem with that, or English people at all, but this type of English inbreed seemed to irritate me. None the less, the drinks kept flowing and the laughter got louder, especially at the expense of the cult.
The days are then
spent nursing a hangover and trying to recall what occurred the night before. "I think I asked the girl that looked like a man if she was a he or she." "That's alright, I told the bearded lady that she had zachery disease, that her face looks zachery like her arse." The guilt then kicks in and you just hope that you do not encounter these people again, but you always do. A swim in the ocean, many bottles of water, a few struts up and down the beach and some tasty Goan food normally does the trick. By sun set you're ready to go again. Feeling good, you decide to play some cricket against some of the local lads on the beach.
Word of advice - CHEAT! By cheating you are only leveling the playing field. Don't be polite and stand back. When you get the chance, grab the bat, grab the ball, basically grab anything you can because if you don't you will find yourself standing like a chimpanzee, pretending to be part of a game that you clearly are not.
The first week comes and goes pretty quickly. By this stage you have established your
social network, your recovery pattern, made a few enemies (drunken innocence), laid some ground work and most importantly gained your mojo (if this has not occurred, drink more).
Week two comes around and now you have Palolem all sorted. The local watering hole is now Cafe Del Mar, not run by the English cult but by arrogant Indian Casanovas (still deciding which is worse). The fact that they make cheese and tomato toasties at 3:30am is what actually hooked me to the place. Unfortunately, the maccas drive thru closes at midnight so this is the next best thing. By this stage of the game you have also established a few minor or should I say Scandanavian connections. Word of warning, be careful what you wish for. Whilst nursing a hangover, looking over the ocean and talking about the state of affairs it was mentioned that a bus load of Swedish bikini wax models was just what needed to be injected into Palolem. The next thing we know, the Swedish army invades -Ten in the space of two days;-)
It was now time to seal the deal, close the books, wrap up the case. The ground work had been
laid, the time and effort had been put in and it was now or never. The corny, cheesy, slimy lines were either going to pay dividends now or you would have to do the solitary walk back to the bungalow with only the beach rat dogs for company. A successful result would see you walk out to breakfast with a strut that had yet to be witnessed by your crew, the body language said it all. Without bragging or anything, lets just say, Palolem is a happy hunting ground for many that frequent its shores… We all had our moments.
Believe it or not, week 3 is actually tough. Without doubt Palolem is a small oasis for most, but it can become all consuming. Firstly, to kick on every night is no easy task, the beers don't seem to go down as well as they did one and a half weeks ago ,and are they really having the same affect? You've eaten just about everything on the menu... You've belted the cricket ball into the huts so many times, the appeal of showing off is no longer there. You know every song that is played at 'Cafe Del Doing
My Head In' and the place suddenly sucks your will to live.
This is due, in no part, to the quality of nights spent drinking there, but from the ardous work put in laying ground work and the sobering reality that the means may not lead to a desired end. Many tales and stories are told and this eventually wears you down keeping track of who you are to which person. Having been a professional surfer, footballer, a student of fine arts and neurosurgery, comedian, horse whisperer and a Chip’n’Dale dancer…sorry, what did u say your name was? The sobering realisation that the previous three weeks ground work could all blow up in your face...why did I count those chickens before they hatched?... The hunter soon becomes the hunted, and it's time to make your choice, but will I make the right one? There comes a time when you suddenly realise that you’re better to be seen and not heard. Life gets pretty tough in Palolem, even for the hardcore reveller.
New blood enters into the lair and they are often overwhelmed by the intricately incestuous nature of life in Palolem. You seem to know every face and every
'aspiringnomad'
...where else but Cafe Del mar face has had a story to tell.
The season was slowly coming to an end and the emotion of it all was clearly too much for some to handle.
This was evident when a Canadian psycho pulled a knife and threatened an innocent 65 year old Buddhist.
Palolem has strange affects on all people, so be warned, if you are susceptible to attachment or have an addictive personality it might be worth applying for a 10 year visa, just let me know when that is ending, cos I don't wanna be there when it does!
Ahhh, Palolem… An ever exciting place with unpredictability a certainty. You find yourself basically doing the same thing day in and day out, yet, no two days are ever the same. It's a place that will take you for a ride, so buckle up and enjoy. Loved it!
See you there next season!
*For a more poetic approach to Goa please read my partner in crimes blog:
aspiringnomad
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anonymous
non-member comment
I like it.
Brad I like this photo. Beautiful beach and sunset. - Cat(Koh Chang)