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Published: March 8th 2008
Beach Cow
With all the cuddles and food these cows get they're healthier han the poor city cowsIt was just a 1 hour flight from Cochin to Goa and it was the scariest flight I've ever been on. Over the loud speaker we heard an Indian accented female voice "experiencing the weather" as the turbulance shook the plane violently until we landed. Like the times in a Rickshaw nearly getting hit by a bus or a giant truck I was sure of instant death, however somehow I've eluded it once again.
My first stop is the capital city in Goa called Panjim. It's a small city with just 1 lakh people (1 hundred thousand). An old Portuguese colonial settlement with the aging buildings to prove it. It's a pleasant place to walk around, however there's not much going on even at the best of times. The streets are near empty. I found myself walking great distances just to find a restaraunt that is open during the siesta.
"You! Where are you going?" a voice asked from the distance. It came from a tiny overweight woman, dressed in a colourful sari and rotting red teeth.
"I am looking for something to eat" I replied"
"Come!" she motioned her hand for me to follow her. She led me
Feeding the cows
Only in India does the beach scene blend in so perfectly with the Holy Cow! across the street into an old building and up some stairs. She started speaking rapidly in Hindi to someone motioning that I was hungry. They seemed to have an arguement, and I think they told her to get lost. Then she led me out the door and into another building nearby building, once again being turned away.
"You want food.... Come!" she said as she ran us across the street.
After several people turning her away I realized that these are peoples houses she's leading me into and I have the suspicion that she's just crazy. I had to ask myself why I was following her? I decided to go for it, knowing that without her I'd be bored out of my mind so at least this little adventure is interesting!
Finally, we found a place that was willing to serve me. 4 men sitting on a solid wooden bench in a dark basement. Their white eyes all staring at me with curiousity. Soon came the "Hello! Where from?"
Afted 30 minutes of akward conversation. My meal consisted of fish curry with two pieces of tiny bite sized, extrememly deep fried fish, a large helping of rice, curry
100lb + basket
The tiny women. half my size who burden themselves with extremley heavy weights in the scorching heat are nothing short but amazing. Here I am carrying half the weight and can barely do it. It's a lot tougher than it looks! sauce, sliced onion and tomatoe which they called salad and a cup of chai. Costing me just 25 rupees (60 cents). She wasn't doing this to make comission, like I at first suspected. I don't even think she was just trying to be nice. I soon realied she was just a bit crazy. Our akward conversation consisted of her repeating the same few sentences over and over again. Reminds me of when I'm talking to my Dad haha!
That night I had a much better meal, in fact probably the best meal I've had on my trip so far, in a old Portuguese mansion. Sitting alone, on the tiny blacony built for two, in a romantic restaraunt sipping wine, watching the sunset from the pastel coloured paned window, I realised sometimes we cry, with everything except tears.
The next morning I hailed a motorbike taxi and headed for Anjuna Beach. Goa is internationally famous for it's beaches. One of the hotspots for in the world. It's not only known for it's palm fringed beaches but it's parties. It's spawned the music sub-genre Goa Trance world wide and helped create what we now know as the rave scene. I showed
Beach shacks
Accomidation is as basic as it gets, but you can't beat the view! up for the party about 10 to 12 years too late. Although Goa is one of the only places in India where you could find a party like this, it's heyday is long over. The police have maintained control long ago and it's not the same as it used to be. That being said it still maintains a cool scene, if you know where to look.
The beach is long and my hotel is a nice 1 km or so walk down the beach to the action where the restaraunts and sunbathers are. The beach is filled with gracefully aging hippies, and the smell of marijauna and hashish fill the air. Beer flows cheaply in Goa, without the harsh restrictions of some other Indian states.
Music, usually Goa Trance or downtempo Indian Hindi rhthyms blast out of each restaraunt as I pass by, deciding where I want to eat. Cows roam freely on the beach, and tourists don't seem to mind as they pet and feed them.....Only india!!
Later on that day I reaquainted with Danny who I met in Cochin. There's not much to do in Anjuna during the day except to relax, eat and enjoy the
scenery. I don't do much shopping but knowing that Danny was in the market for a beach towel we spoke to a few vendors. He made a few promises of "I'll be back"
"DAVID!! You said you will look at my shop....Come!" it was a girl who asked my name, about 5 hours beforehand. She was about 4 foot 10, tiny and very pregnant, wearing a blue and white Sari, had a red dot on her forehead and several rings in her ears and nose. She wanted to know why we promised and didn't come back. I tried to tell her it wasn't me but she wasn't having it haha. She told me she can do a cheaper price but not as low as Danny offered because she needs to bribe the police in order to sell things on the beach, just as every other business does. The busy season is ending and the vendors know that next month sales will be next to nothing so they're getting desperate to unlead their current inventory. If you promise to come back, they will remember you.
That night we stumbled upon a Goa Trance party, about 2km down the beach.
Streets of Arambol
Lots of touristy shops to shop at, but no hassle from the Indian people. Very relaxed vibe Maybe the scene hasn't died afterall I thought. Dancing on the beach were hundreds of hippies. Just as many as the foreign as local. We drank several cups of chai from the vendors as we watched people dance the night away, most of them probably high on the multitude of drugs available. The party ended abruptly at 11pm. Appearantly that's when the police shut everything down. We were the last ones to leave the beach. We met several long term people who have lived in Goa for the past 25 years. They said this is as late as it goes for parties like this, it shouldn't be happening at all but the police are paid a bribe to keep things going a bit longer. Unfortunatly for the beach shacks hosting the party, the bribes that the nightclubs pay the police are much more than they can afford, and that ensures they're shut down just in time for the nightclubs to open.
We walked in the dark, about 2kms down the beach. Hidden behind a shack flashlights came out of nowhere. "Police!" they said as they walked towards us with their bamboo sticks offeing no sort of identification. "Where are
Tanning Beds
Have a seat, and lay int he sun. The Indian people will serve you all day and you won't have to get up ever.....except maybe to pee! the drugs? You like to do drugs,
na?" They said matter of factly.
I was only slightly relieved that neither of us was on drugs or the fact that we didn't have any drugs. I've heard all kinds of stories about police in Goa are corrupt and that they'll plant you with drugs, demanding thousands of dollars in fines on the spots to avoid what must be hell in an Indian prison cell. They asked to search us, in which I hesistated. They didn't search us to well, it was actually sort of pathetic. They did however find my money belt which they asked me to hand over. I rarely wear my money belt, I usually leave it hidden in my hotel room. But being such a touristy place, in Goa break-ins are common so I thought it was best to keep it on me. I hesitated to give it to him, thinking I was being robbed. Robbed by the very people who were supposed to b protecting us. My moneybelt consisted of my bank card, Visa, Passport and about 20 000 rupees ($512) - Enough to last me the duration of my trip in India....and more, or about 6
months salary of an Indian police officer. He thumbed throught it and looked at me. "Don't worry, I don't want your money, you go now" I thanked him and told him that I was nervous because I've heard stories. He wagged his head from side to side, in typical Indian fashion and smiled. Walking the last km to my guesthouse along the dark beach I wondered if maybe he would radio to a friend saying that foreigners were coming with a large sum of money. We were lucky and made it home safe with a sigh of relief.
The following day we headed off to the city of Hampi, by train with another girl we met named Nicole. The blog can be found
here.
On the last night in Hampi, I came down with, what I think was food poisoning. Hampi is not a sanitary place, we realized that when we saw this one lady pick up wet fresh cow shit from the street and put it in a bucket, and then didn't wash! I spent the night throwing up. To add insult to injury my shoulder started to inflict severe pain upon me once again. Not even
charras would take the pain away. I thought it was getting better, and as I write this it's once again perfectly fine. But for some reason I keep getting these pains. I can't tell if it's in the muscles, joints of bones. Once again another night in agony.
I didn't sleep at all that night. At 5:30 am I went to wake up Nicole from her hotel room. She was awake and had also been sick all night also. Exhausted, we took a 45 minute rickshaw ride to the train station. Then 7 hours on the bumpy, hot, 2nd class carriage of train. Nicole and I stuck to two seperate top bunks. We didn't dare sit below us as the lady who occupied the seats, had severely deformed, rotting feet with open sores. I was so hot up there that I didn't sleep there either. 3 very packed, and I mean VERY packed local busses later, and a motorcycle ride I finally made it to another beach in Goa called Arambol. Suffering from the heat, the long journey and a lack of food, as soon as I got my hotel booked, I slept for 12 hours in what was the best sleep I had in a long time.
Waking up the next morning I took a long 3 km each way walk, on the beach as the warm water flowed just above my ankles. There's a party in BC, Canada called Shambhala. It's a major hippy festival. I think I know where they all go the rest of the year. The beach goes on forever, and has many retreats and activities you can partake in such as Yoga, Reiki, Meditation and Ayuvedic massages. Mass consumerism and mass tourism, has skipped this place leaving it as a refuge for hippies to escape to. It's a great vibe.
There's all kinds of healthfood restaraunts, selling all kinds of great food. A welcome change from Indian food, especially after being sick. While eating, I overheard some women saying how their sick of the Indian men on the beach staring at them. Personally I think they bring it on themselves. Many girls choose to go topless on the beach. It would probably land them in jail anywhere else in India. Being a touristy place, it's accepted here in Goa, but one must consider the fact that for the most part everyday Indian people are never naked. The shower with their underwear on, even at home, even when alone. Upon changing they put on their over-underwear to take off their wet underwear and replace it with dry ones. Many Indian men have never seen their own wives naked. So on the beach seeing a women in a bikini or topless, in a culture where it's not rude to stare, you have to expect to get stared at!
I ran into a girl we met in Hampi named Carey. We had a few meals togethor and spoke about all kinds of things. She's into all the sorts of things that one should come to India to experience such as different types of yoga, meditation, spirituality etc. We get along great and have long conversations. What I find interesting about travelling alone is that you meet all kinds of people who you may not have a ton in common with, get along great, maybe have a drink or two or a bite to eat and then go your seperate ways. More than likely never to see eachother again. By this time Danny is now in Bombay, and Nicole is back in Anjuna. I am leaving Arambol also, heading through Bombay to Bangkok, then Indinesia. Even though we only meet for a day or two, I feel I will remember these interesting souls for years to come. Facebook will be an interesting way to keep in contact with all these people around the world.
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JOANNE BAREVICH
non-member comment
shoulder
DAVID YOU BETTER GET TO A DOCTOR WHEN YOU GET HOME ....AUNTIE JO