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Published: December 23rd 2010
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I spent my final few days in Palolem hanging out with my friends - easting, drinking, teaching them draughts, and going for the occasional swim in the sea, which for me is very rare. On my final morning in Palolem I also managed to catch up with Marc, who had arrived the previous night in Patnam.
After some breakfast Marc offered me a lift on the back of his bike up to Madgaon so I could catch my train to Thivim without having to spend two hours on the bus first.
Before long I was racing down winding Goan lanes, with a surprisingly warm breeze through my hair. Even at high speeds it seems the Goan air is hot and humid. I was worried the Police might pull us up for me not wearing a helmet, but the truth is no one seems to wear a helmet in Goa. At one point we drove past a group of about ten police officers but they were attending to what seemed like a nasty accident where a vehicle had left the road and landed on it's roof in a ditch. I hope everyone was alright in the end.
I was
dropped off at Madgaon and got my train up to Thivim. I managed to get a pre-paid taxi to Vagator, which is a lot easier than having to haggle with the driver, but this still caused controversy. A group of Israelis obviously were unimpressed with their price quoted for Anjuna, and asked me if they could share with me and split the costs. I said I didn't mind but the driver perhaps reasonably said he wasn't going to two different places. Queue a lot of shouting and swearing from the tourists and the driver being in a grumpy mood for the first half of the journey.
Vagator is in North Goa and had a reputation of being one of the big places for trance music and beach parties, although this has largely died down since the late 1990s when the Goan Police and authorities became less tolerant of the scene. These days Vagator is more a place for Indian day trippers although there is still a small Italian/ Israeli presence in the south of the area, and bars such as the Nine Bar although these days closing at 10pm, still play trance music.
I checked into my hotel
and went out for some food, going to China Town, a Chinese restaurant run by Indians serving intercontinental food, as recommended by my old friend the Rough Guide. Every now and again you order some food which turns out to be a very random approximation at what the cook thinks the original would look like. An example of this is in Darjeeling where my hotel's idea of egg fried rice was rice with a fried egg on top! I ordered a bean and cheese burrito and was given beans and cheese covered by crunchy spring roll style pastry and surrounded by a ring of onions. Interesting.
The next morning I was having breakfast at one of the many roadside cafes and who should randomly walk in looking for somewhere to eat but Marc! The Travel Gods had spoken again. Marc took me to see Vagator Beach, scene of the parties of the late 1990s. It was deserted. After five minutes we bumped into a British couple in their late 30s who had been here fifteen years ago for the parties. They were looking for one thing - drugs - and surprisingly for India, weren't having much luck. We chatted
to before exploring the mainly deserted beaches. Marc headed off again for the final time on my trip and I sorted a few things out on the internet and got some lunch.
I went back to the beach for some quiet sunbathing only to discover in a matter of two hours it was now awash with Indian tourists. This essentially meant a two hour photo session which gets a little wearing after a while, although it is the closest I will ever get to being famous. I am the new David Beckham. It also meant I was plied with free goodies from bananas to Bacardi which has to be a bonus in anyone's books.
The following day I traveled to Fort Aguada to meet Ron and Suman, two of my friends from work in London who are in India for different reasons. Personally, I think we should move the office to Goa and have done with it. Suman and her daughter Harpreet were staying in the very swanky Taj Fort complex, where as I was making do in the more affordable Kamat Hotel just outside the Fort. We spent the afternoon talking and relaxing by the pool, and
Preparing for the world quickest clubbing session
Ron, Harpreet, and I prepare to tackle three clubs in an hour! in the evening went out to the all night market near Anjuna which contained every kind of tourist stall imaginable as well as a few bars. This is always a bonus so Ron and I went for a drink whole the ladies looked round the stalls. The market was still in full flow when we left after midnight and would stay open all the way though to the morning.
On the way back to Fort Aguada Ron and I took Harpreet on a whistle stop clubbing session in Baga. We visited three different clubs in an hour while Mum waited outside in the taxi. We did try to get Suman to come with inside with us but she politely refused.
In the morning Ron and I went to say goodbye to Suman and Harpreet and headed south back to Margao, as Ron had to attend a memorial service for his aunt who had sadly passed away a month earlier. I booked a room in Benaulim, which turned out to be directly next door to one of Ron's relatives houses! After the service I met up with Ron again and went with him to visit various relatives he hadn't seen for five years. It was really interesting to be inside Goan homes, which were mostly all ground floor houses, spacious, and very Catholic. As we traveled through the surrounding area Ron remarked of much it had all changed, even over five years, becoming much more commercialised.
After visiting various family members we went to visit a neighbour who used to live next to one of Ron's now deceased aunties. Ron had fond memories of the gentleman, who was now in his eighties. The man had been blind for years due to diabetes, but was additionally now almost completely deaf and had almost forgotten how to speak English through lack of practice. Ron described how the gentleman's house now quite squalid house had once been almost an palatial home shared with his wife, and how the owner always used to spoil him and make him CDs years ago in previous visits. We weren't sure if the elderly man was aware of who it was he was talking to, as it sounded as if he thought he was talking to Ron's Dad at one point. It was really sad to see the condition of both the man and his house. In Britain the government would step in and look after someone if they were elderly and in need of help, but in India if you have no family to care for you, you are largely on your own. At least he did have one neighbour who drops in on him from time to time but it was still a very depressing scene.
That evening I boarded my train for Kerala, where I will be spending Christmas and New Year.
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