Get-get-get-out-of-Goa, Get out of Goa.

---

Goa. The title of this blog works best when said in a clear deep voice over the incessant backing beat reverberating from one of many beach shacks nestled amongst the swaying palms touching the edge of the pure white beach that I would be stretched out on. It is not because I don't like Goa, quite the opposite in fact, as with only a couple of weeks left in India, Amy and I were dangerously close to just getting stuck in Anjuna and the laid back "hippie" lifestyle without even making it to Hampi or Kerala. So after 5 days we dragged ourselves away from "Shiva Palace" our regular shack and the more permanent tourists that we had befriended and got into Panjim, the heavily-portuguese influenced capital of Goa where I am now before heading on to Hampi on what promises to be a very bumpy overnight bus ride in land to Hampi.

We are trying to scoot off to see the cathedrals and churches of Old Goa, which usually I would find a bit tedious but the contrast compared to the rest of India, throughout the state of Goa, makes the pastel colours and portuguese feeling of the towns a fascinating comparision.

So, as I am pushed for time a bit as I am trying to back up over 1000 photos to CD by taking advantage of actual functioning computers in India (some sort of Catholic-linked miracle maybe?), I will give you a cheeky summary of the lazy days in Anjuna. It was a completely different pace compared to criss-crossing across India on dirty trains and broken buses, but a change which I settled straight into rather than the restless "I want to paraglide...I want to swim... I want to explore..." which I am more used to. The days tended to include a fair lack of motion on the beaches under a lovely sun, with bountiful supplies of people offering coconut, pineapple, massages and ear-cleaning, the ear-cleaning often only offered to me, and the male masseuses only seeming to offer there services to Amy, lingering for quite a while even after a definitive "No thank you". A great array of food and drinks were offered through all the different shacks, which then took night about to fill up the evening with trancy-tunes pulling in crowds of Indians and tourists from all the neighbouring beaches. The music technically had to stop at 10, but with a sly backsheesh offered to the good natured policemen they often continued late into the night. I was feeling a bit worse for wear on the first night, and after dozing off on one of the mattresses laid down for the reclining chillum-puffing hippies, I awoke at 2AM amid a party in full swing with crazy stone-induced techno-trance dance movings going on all around me.

So that was pretty much the general vibe of the dying-party scene in Goa. I clearly never felt it was too quite, but with the government cracking down on the late nights and the drugs, the old school residents, one of whom kindly referred to the local guest house owners and tourist-supported businesses as "fascist nazis" for sapping the life out of the scene have been considering setting up camp somewhere else "like Africa or something, dude" to try and rekindle the madness of the '60's. In some areas I could see where his animosity towards the locals had come from. Since the Tezza Attacks in Mumbai, there has been at least a 30% drop in tourism (reference: Times of India) which I thought would lead to dirt cheap rooms as the businesses compete for the handful of tourists. Instead they are renting out half the number of rooms and stinging people twice the amount- therefore I do not feel morally bad that the landlady accidentally charged me for 3 nights rather than 4 (or maybe 5...). The lack of business had driven the women who have little stores along the beaches to a frenzied desperation for business, and Amy (bless her little American cotton-socks and her inability to say NO) ended up promising to buy pretty much everything being sold on the length of Anjuna beach. Actually, it is rather funny so I have pasted from her blog her in depth description of the hassling to get the gist of how Goa can be a little short of paradise.

Extract from Amy's mammoth efficient blog (I have unfortunately never posessed the efficiency gene, which solo travelling is ideal for, but now I am travelling in a twosome It dawns on me about how much of a phaffer (faffer?) I am-

"On the beach the first day, I discovered what a magnetic appeal I have to the girls that walk up and down the beach in their saris and try to convince people to come look at their shacks. I was descended upon by about five of them, separately and then together, as once one is sitting near you the others flock to as well. Mind you, this is while I was laying and sunbathing while Jack looked for a suitable place to stay for a few days, so I was all alone without the good "Naysayer."

The girls ranged in age from about 10 to 19. Sita, Sunita, Silpa, Wuki, and a few others I really can't remember by name. They started by buttering me up with compliments- compliments that outside of India, would be downright insulting. The two that I got most frequently were, "You are so white, white like chicken!" and also "How old are you? Twenty-two? No... you look like fifteen!"


I look like a pasty white adolescent? Why thank you so so much!

After they made some small chat, they began inviting me to come see their beach hut stores. Inviting is a little too gentle of a word; extracting solemn promises, sealed with "Indian promise shake" (read: pinky swearing) that I would come see their goods later. I fully intended to get a few things while in Goa, so promising was not a problem. Then, to be fair, as they each tried to peddle me all the same things, I promised to get a different thing from each, so that they would leave me alone and let me get a little beach peace. Anklets from Sunita, henna from Wuki, earrings from Silpa, blanket from Sita. And then there were a few things they tried to get me to promise, and I said, "Maybe, if I decide to get that. If I want it, I will come to you."

This went on all morning. Once I had pledged a purchase of the things that I actually wanted, I began to get wise as new and different girls and women approached my towel. At first, I'd let them get through their introduction and semi-insulting compliments before saying, "I'm not interested in shopping now, maybe later." To which they say, "Later, promise, you come later, promise!" And I'd lay my head back on the towel, and say "Maybe! No promise, only maybe." And ignore them for the next two minutes as they stand at the head of my towel, waiting for me to cave.

The two Israeli fellows on the blanket next to me found this rather hysterical. Every time one came over, they'd share a laugh and my exasperated look sent their way. Finally, as they began approaching me, I took to saying, before any introduction began, "Hi, you have a shop? I am relaxing now, no shopping. If I need to shop, I will go later." And then again tried to extract promises, which I ignored. And then, I took to just ignoring the ones who approached by waving them by with one hand, or pretending to sleep.

This was rather stressful, as I really hate saying no to people, and I do understand that they are trying to make a year's worth of living in a 3-4 month "pop" when the westerners are here. My sympathies to them. Which is why I was totally fine promising that I would buy the things I needed, one from each. Figured it'd be a fair way to give everyone a little business, and keep me from getting badgered more.

When Jack got back to the blanket, after securing us a nice stay in a guesthouse about three minutes walk (if that) from the quiet end of the beach (by quiet I mean no one is allowed down there to hassle you to buy things), I filled him in on my morning. He laughed and took over the job of turning away any new vendors, as well as letting the girls who returned to remind me that I had promised to come look at their shops, know that we were relaxing now, would look later when we were ready.

Well, the minutes turned into hours and the hours brought us to about four, so we decided to head back to the guesthouse, clean up, then come back for some food and the sunset. We planned on going to the beach huts so I could get some stuff before heading to this beach shack, Shiva Valley, near our guesthouse, where Jack had made a few friends while looking for a place for us to stay. The jet lag caught up with me, however, and I crashed for a hell of a nap from five until about eight thirty. I woke up, showered, and though I felt bad, I figured okay, I can go shopping tomorrow. Off to dinner (delicious) and Shiva Valley (very chill) for the night. We returned to the guesthouse around 4am, slept until 10am, and woke up for another day on the beach.

Though we were staying on the quiet- again, this is relatively speaking, I will explain that more in a minute- end of Anjuna, after laying down on the breezeless beach for a few minutes and positively roasting beyond the point of it being enjoyable, I decided that we might as well head up the beach, do our promised souvenir shopping, then return for some relaxation once the sun was a little less intense. Off we went. I felt bad about not being back the day before, so I decided I'd just tell them I had been sick after eating, and here we were, back as promised, now that I felt alright.

As we approached the huts, three of them came running out. "Hi! You come look now! You promise yesterday! I wait all day for you!" I smiled and said "Oh yes, felt sick after dinner yesterday, but back now, feeling better, time for shopping." They were each trying to get me to go into different huts (that each had the same type of selection- just different patterns, colors, etc). I started at Wuki's, as I had made the first promise to her. I perused the book of henna designs, and Jack decided he also wanted a gecko on his side, as I had been saying how much I like tattoos there, and he began to think maybe one might look alright. What better way to test it out? As I did this, another two that I hadn't met (in addition to the four I had promised) came in and began trying to extract promises from me. I was very careful not to make any.

I perused the shop next door (as promised) while waiting for Jack's henna to finish. There was a batik print cloth that most people use here as a beach blanket, which we needed, but that would also look great in my bonus room in the apartment- peachy orange with red ohm characters all over it, and a huge ohm in the middle. Perfect colors to match my pillows and give the room some character. I also snapped up a pair of ali baba pants (super hippie pants that I never would have thought could be cute until seeing them on so many hippie chicks here). Another girl brought jewelry in for me to look at while her brother did my henna. I selected three pieces that were cute, while they each tried to push me to buy more- "More this? More that? You like this one? Buy more, less rupees, I give you good price for good friend, very good friend now." They looked to me for the money, and I pointed to Jack, explaining "He has our money, he takes care of money." They turned to Jack, and the haggling began. They began with such inflated prices that Jack actually laughed before arguing them back down. He drove a hard bargain, and I got my blanket and pants for 400 rupees total, which is about $8US. He got our henna down to a total of 500 rupees for both, and my jewelry down to 250 rupees for three little pieces. I felt a little bad listening to him haggle, feeling like he was arguing over a few dollars that we really do have to spare, until the girl who had sold us the blanket and pants refused to give Jack the 100 rupees change from his 500 rupee note, claiming she didn't have it, but that we could choose another item. Jack was a bit pissed, but she may have regretted that when he managed to battle her into giving him a men's shirt AND sarong for that 100 rupees. Jack mentioned wanting dreads while I had my henna done (I asked for an Ohm on my foot and got an ohm as well as some designs on my toes that I think I could have done better, but I digress), and one of the girls informed him that she could do his dreads for 10,000 rupees. Jack was well pissed off when they said this price, and pointed out that he had been in India for three months and wasn't stupid; they were trying to rip him off, and if they didn't start giving him prices that were more reasonable, he was going to leave. After a few minutes, he talked them down to 1,000 rupees, and as he considered this, the other girls, Sita and Silpa, that I had yet to buy from, continued coming in every few minutes to remind me I needed to come get things from them.

This was beginning to backfire. My plan to be fair and helpful to the local economy was quickly going to shreds, as with every attempted purchase, there was badgering to buy more, more, more. Jack and I told them we didn't have room in our luggage for much, so we only needed a few things, only wanted a few things. They began to get pushier- "You promised me first! You promised you come to my shop!" I assured them, "I promised I would come to your shop, and I am coming to your shop next." As Jack looked at something in one of the huts, I went to one behind it- Silpa, the ten-year-old's. I looked at the bags, the blankets, the shirts, the sarongs, the scarfs. I selected a scarf that I liked, that I can put in my hair or fashion as a beach top. I told Silpa I'd take the scarf. Her jaw dropped. "Just scarf? No fair! You promise me you come to my shop, and you go to her shop, and buy blanket and pants! You get henna and necklace from other girls! Only scarf? No fair!" Not wanting to make a ten-year-old cry, I went around to the shop Jack was in, and said "Jack, there is a scarf I'd like in Silpa's shop, so if you can go to her shop next and pick out a sarong or something, that would be good." He was like "You only want the scarf?" I said, "Yes. You know, I'm feeling a little sick" (loud enough for all to hear, and facing Jack while winking furiously) "and need to go lay down right now." I left Jack to deal with Silpa next. I laid on my new blanket for a few minutes, enjoying the first real peace I'd had on the sand. Until Silpa came running up to me in tears. "He leave! He not buy anything from me! You promise!" I patted her on the back, and trying to curb my now intense anxiety and frustration that was quickly turning into anger at how we were being absolutely bullied into getting things despite our being really fair about it all, came back to the huts.

Jack met me in front of them. "Mate, she had like four things out that she said you want." I assured him I only wanted the scarf, and said, "Please- buy something. Anything. I don't care. I can't take this. I need to go back to our part of the beach. I'm about to lose it right now." He said "Go. I'll take care of it." I walked about 20 feet, and realized I'd forgotten my sunglasses. Shit. I turned back, and was met by Sita, who had my sunglasses in hand. "You forget your sunglasses. You promise to come look at my shop!" I walked into her shop where she stood, and said calmly, "I feel very sick. I need to go lay down. Please give me my sunglasses." She repeated, almost shouting at me, "You said you look at my shop!" I turned to leave, and she grabbed my wrist rather forcefully. I drew my wrist back, trying to loosen it from her, and said again "Sita, please give me my sunglasses, and let go of my wrist." She did not. I got louder. "I am sick, I need to lay down, you need to give me my sunglasses and LET GO OF MY HAND." She still didn't, and continued gripping onto it as I pulled harder to get my wrist out of her hand. At this point, I lost it. I had had enough. I had tried very hard to stay calm and even when they were getting really pushy and badgery and trying to screw us out of every rupee we had. I had stayed calm when they tried to get us to buy things we clearly didn't want. I had tried very hard to stay polite when refusing things. And now I was being manhandled by a fifteen year old who wouldn't give me my damn sunglasses OR my own hand back, and seriously wanted to deck her. On a beach that had a badgering free zone only hundreds of yards away, if I could just... get.... to it....

"F*@% it! This is ridiculous! I'm leaving! No more!"

I stormed off, two girls following behind me, and Jack back at the hut doing his best to make it clear that they were to leave me alone, I had been fair and polite and now they had been pushy and upset me, and that they needed to leave me alone now. A few minutes later, as I crossed the clear stretch of sand that I considered "home base," Jack caught up with me and handed me my sunglasses. He assured me that I had not left a disaster in my wake, and that two of the girls were still offering to do dreads for him. But the damage had been done. My stress level was through the roof, compounded with the guilt of telling off a fifteen year old in a third world country. We got to our part of the beach, laid on the sand, and I proceeded to not move for two hours while trying to calm the heck down.

Jack teases me now for refusing to so much as walk up the beach past the beach shacks near our guesthouse. It took me nearly five hours to recover from the anxiety and stress of that little mess. I'll take the teasing over the badgering any day.

That afternoon, as I sat up at Shiva Valley with Adam, our older British friend, and Nick, the coolest sixteen year old I've ever met in my life (no joke, this kid is cooler at sixteen than I will EVER be in my entire life, probably from being the son of a Dutch DJ and an Australian hippie Mom and having spent every summer here in Goa since he was born) and the nice fellows who work at the shack, I brought up our experience with the girls. They laughed and said yeah, no worries, totally typical. You have to show anger or they leave you alone. "But I don't like getting angry with people." "You don't have to BE angry, just pretend, or they won't leave you alone," was the explanation I got from the Indian guy. Interesting. Apparently, being polite and magnanimous are not really a style that works well in that area."


.....


Back to moi. Ahem. You may have noticed if you read that my inquiry about dreads. I have ummed and erred about it for a while...... and now I have dreadlocks. I went for it, not with the money hungry at the expense of my head of hair hut ladioes on the beach, but after seeing a poster and meeting Diana. As you need to get a tattoo from someone with tattoos, the same goes with dreads. And Diana had dreads. 43 year old British lady-turned meditative Hindu who has been living in India for the past 14 years and whose life story I now know after 5 hours, punctuated by the backcombing, bees waxing, threading, twisting and burning of my precious hair. I have to admit I was careful not to look in the mirror until the end, and my initial reaction was a genuine thought of

"Brilliant Jack you f@*%ing idiot, what have you done, seriously, what? why? being spontaneous again- muppet!"

But after this initial shock I now absolutely love them. Amy has to keep on getting me to stop checking my hair oput in the mirror. They do (in my humble opinion- and that is what matters) look cool. I can put a ridiculous bandana or bright green lungi (sort of scarf thing) around my head and it works. I don't have to dress in hemp and fisherman's trousers but can wear them in my style and (again in my humble opinion) they work.

My only concern was not to look like a dirty drug-smuggling hippie, particularly when I take the look to Thailand. They are thin ones which look less of a matted mess, but do run the risk of looking like a few dozen rats tails if not styled correctly. But I think I am avoiding that look just about (thank God) and am buying some natural beautifully fragrant oil if the smell of bees wax is not to everyones taste. So for now, I really like them. How long they last we shall see, but although it is a surprisingly versatile look, my stethoscope seems to clash slightly with the style, so something tells me they will defineitely be off before the wards next September. (Amy has just informed me she liked the look with a stethoscope- so who knows- maybe the next Tomorrows Doctors guidelines will make it a must.)

Anywhoo I will pledge to get photos up soon to be subject to the wrath of the critics, but Mum and Dad, I will endeavour to keep them around for your viewing pleasure come Laos in mid-Feb.

Over and Out for now. xxx

---