Arambol 1

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Saturday - Arambol.
Kelly and I had been talking quite a bit about going to Arambol for a little trip. It's where the Beasts were a year or so ago and where Kelly lived for a few weeks when she first got to India. I've heard great things about Arambol and was intrigued as to what the fuss was all about. This hippy paradise where people bathe in clay, swim in lakes and party on the beach all night. This is my interpretation of Arambol as I experienced it.

We left vagator at around 11.30am to make sure we had a good few hours to walk around in the day time. It was a long ol' scooter ride from Vagator - longer than I'd imagined - around 45 minutes or so. We passed various sights on the way, ranging from people living under tarpaulins to a birds eye view of beautiful beaches through massive cliff faces and jungle landscapes (future photograph opportunities). It was a beautiful drive. A Russian man and his friend riding a scooter simply shouted the word 'Arambol?' and I shouted back 'that's where we're going', so we created a little convoy as we drove. Passing schools with 'no horn please' signs outside and very smartly dressed Indian children with matching green ribbons in their hair, we got to our destination and literally drove straight to the end of the road and onto the beach!
We'd decided to find somewhere to stay for the night but needed to act quickly to make sure we could leave our things in the room as we walked around. Kelly knew quite a lot of people here and we ended up popping into a restaurant called 'Om Star' on the beach, where the owner Babu was very pleased to see us. He gave us a nice room with en suite for 400 rupees (mates' rates) so we dumped our stuff and went for a walk (whilst being rather amazed that our accomodation seeking task was over so quickly and with such good results). On the beach we passed 'shit' river, the end of a small stream which passes through most of Arambol and which is used as a bit of a rubbish tip before entering the beach and flowing vaguely into the sea. It's around six feet wide so not much a river than a dirty trickle. The sand here was possibly more 'dirty' looking than the sand at Anjuna or Vagator. Ther massive rocks made that the case and massive they were! I took a picture of some men climbing on them...

We ventured around the cliff on a path home to shops (stalls), guest houses and restaurants gently balanced on the cliff side. We stopped at Outback restaurant where we had the best spring rolls randomly coupled with cheese, garlic and prawn naan!!! Such good food and I will go there if I go there again. Eventually we reached the other side of the cliffs and emerged onto a smaller, quieter beach where the sweet lake sat, right in front of us. The sweet lake, possibly named due to it being fresh water and therefore, the opposite of 'salt' water (thanks Jen), was a beautiful, blue, clear sight. A handful of people bathed in its lagoon-like water with a few waiters standing by from nearby bars waiting to serve drinks and food. We were on our way to the Banyan tree so asked directions and were shown the way, after a lengthy conversation about not wanting to have a drink right at the moment, but maybe later once we'd come down from the tree.

I'd heard about the Banyan tree from various people, but mostly from the Beast Jen who had been there with Graeme, Zoe and Paul early on in the year. It came across as a magical, spiritual place where old men sat and meditated, young people went to chill out and spiritual people went to recharge. It was a twenty minute walk to the Banyan Tree from the Sweet Lake through jungle, over rocks and up and down hills... into the rabbit hole almost. It was surprisingly un-knackering and I enjoyed the little clamber through various foliage. We eventually reached the tree. It was an ENORMOUS sculpture of a tree, with tentacles and limbs spreading as far as the eye could see within and into the jungle. It was phemnomenal and no photograph will ever capture the majesty of this particular specimen. Around the main trunk and base of the tree (as it had more than one), was a small, flat clearing where a little old Indian man sat with a small family and a few other people on reed mats talking in a calm and subdued manner. I was immediately very self-conscious and felt myself being incredibly polite and as quiet as I could be. It struck me that a lot of respect for the space was needed here. We were invited by the man to sit down on one of the mats, so we did and listened to the conversations and jungle sounds in the relaxed atmosphere of the Banyan Tree and its temporary inhabitants. We were offered some water which had been collected from the stream which came out of the hills as pure spring water. I was assured it was safe to drink, so I had some. It was pure and cool and i didn't get ill afterwards at all.

We'd heard earlier in the week that smoking a cigarette in public was was actually illegal in India, so we thought we'd ask the old Indian man if it was OK. It was so lucky we asked, as he said we couldn't at the moment because the police had just arrived! Two men stood at the 'entrance' to the Banyan Tree and were demanding people show ID and the contents of their bags/pockets. One 'policeman' asked me to put my camera away! They became quite aggressive towards an Indian man who was there with his camera, even threatening to 'slap' him and when he said he was just a tourist and his ID was in his hotel room, they took him away for him to show it to them... the banyan tree was quite a walk from any accommodation so his day had been spoiled because of the police... This attitude reminded me of the way some men behave in Pakistani culture. It's purely a control issue and a way to have some power over someone or something. This also reflects on the way a lot of people treat animals here. We sat tight and waited for the police to leave, after they'd searched the other men in the circle. Once they had left, the atmosphere returned to relaxed-mode and quite a discussion ensued about the increasing police presence in Arambol and the unrealistic demands from them, mostly involving 'back-sheesh' (bribes). I've heard you can buy your way out of any trouble you get into in India, although sometimes you may have not done anything wrong and the police will try and con you anyway.

The old man at the Banyan tree moved the conversation on, via the route of money, to a story of a woman he met at the tree years ago, who had lots of money and who fell in love with him. She became obsessive and possessive, giving him lots of money (which he said he lost on purpose as he didn't feel he needed it) and sleeping with him in his usual place at the tree every night then taking him to her hotel and making him sleep there. He said he never needed any money and didn't have any possessions or want for anything (Ann, if you're reading this, at that point I felt like I'd met the man you talked about and he was right here in front of me in this beautiful and spiritual place). I asked him why he'd left the tree to go and be with her... he couldn't answer.

When the time came for us to leave the tree (when it looked like the sun was going down in the sky) the old man gave Kelly a hug - a long hug, which almost made me felt slightly jealous, as I didn't get a hug, but it was obviously Kelly's moment and I felt happy for her. We walked back around the jungle and hills, past people bathing in the clay mud and the stream coming from where we'd been. It was quicker to get down than to get up. There was a slightly odd and crazy big-eyed man in the water who told kelly he loved her and that as her sister, I should 'massage her titties'. Hmm... oddball :-) Another male bather had no clothes on at all.

We took a dip in the sweet lake as we had some time before walking around the cliff again to get back to sunset point... for sunset with the hippies of Arambol. The water was very warm at the bottom, but the top section really cold. Could this have been something to do with the water at the bottom not flowing anywhere with the current of the water? One would expect the bottom part to be cooler, non? Kelly got out because she was freaked out there there might be poo in there and started chatting to a guy who had been up at the tree when we were there. He'd been on the look out for police. He told us not to believe the old man's story, that he didn't live at the tree (once the sun set and the visitors had gone, he'd climb down and go to a room he stayed in!) and that he was actually just someone who sold hashish to tourists! This gave a whole new view on the matter and for a moment, I thought we'd been conned... but... I thought about it and realised that anyone who can make a person or group of people feel spiritual and calm, is not a bad thing. Yes, he may be a bit of a fraud, but we experienced a lovely moment, Kelly too with her hug from him and I decided that it didn't matter who he was or where he slept at night, but he had a good 'aura' and had been kind and had shared his experiences to mere strangers. That was good enough for me. I'll never forget that time.

We continued our walk, talking about the old man and the tree, passing a possible dog fight on the way, to what the locals sometimes call 'sunset point' - a section of the beach where hippies gather to play drums, dance around, chat with each other, all whilst watching the sunset. Before I reached there, I had a horrible vision of cringing at the quality of the drumming, having experienced tens of people with djembes sitting in drum circles at festials in the UK, playing badly with no structure or technique... being a drum teacher, I notice things like this :-) As it happened, the quality of the drumming, albeit on djembes, was actually pretty good. there were about seven people and between them they had a couple of djembes, a dundun, a cowbell, a darabuka and an agogo bell. They had obviously been playing with each other for some time as they had proper structured tunes going on. I'd heard similar rhythms being played in West African drumming groups, but this was the best I'd heard outside a proper group in the UK. Kelly and I were both pleased that I liked the drumming as it would have been a shame if not... i had imagined it to be a cringey hippy-fest... it was a little bit... there was a woman in a very unflattering bikini who was 'dancing' with her sarong for about an hour. She was really getting into it and swirling and twirling with the sarong like a massive flag. I cringed a little bit at that, but she was having fun so that was the main thing.
There were also some exceptionally beautiful people there. Gorgeous girls with long flowing hair in lovely hippy clothes, tanned and hunky men dancing with them... it was a pretty sight. I tried to take some photos but it had started to get a bit dark for good ones really. Kelly bumped into one of her friends from when she lived here a few weeks ago. He was organising a festival next weekend and was interested in her coming along to have a stall and collection box for Internation Animal Rescue. After chatting with him a bit, we decided to go back to our room at Om Star, have some food and get ready to go out and about in Arambol at night... the party place apparently.

We were extremely disappointed. There was nothing much on, we were afraid to smoke cigarettes in case a policeman came along and we ended up wandering into the back room of a shop where Kelly went to buy some earrings and sitting with the people in there, we went to a few bars, playing draughts and snakes and ladders in one nice place called Cafe Hemp where we also met a lovely cat, meeting some French people and a massive grasshopper in another called the Sporting Hero, smoking a sneaky cigarette on the beach behind (and nearly inside) a fishing boat on the beach, before going back to our room for a slightly early night. We heard from various people and managed to piece together the story, that the police were basically trying to get hippies out of Goa whilst making some quick cash for themselves by bribing anyone they could. This had stopped many people coming for the season and had created a fearful environment where most people didn't want to be out. Kelly said that Arambol was a totally different place to what she knew only a few weeks ago. I later spoke to Zoe about it (who had lived there for a long time) and who said it was a slight issue then, but not quite as bad as it had been for us today. It was a real shame. The 'Arambol' people had raved about, was not the same.

In the morning, I had an Indian version of a full english breakfast while Kelly had a vegan pizza and whilst we both tried to shoo away the millions of flies that had settled around us and kept coming back. My sausages were weird - like tiny cocktail sausages with a slightly currified taste and cut in half like little butterflies. We took a walk to see if we could find Zoe's uncle who is a tattoist and does it by hand. I was interested to get a small design somewhere to mark my little time in India, but we couldn't find him at the house we'd been told he lived in near to a nice looking bar which had the first real live music I've heard in Goa. I should've asked Zoe more about him :-) But i can go back again at some point... or wait until the time is definitely right and when the opportunity is in right in front of me.

We went back to the beach, found a couple of sunbeds and relaxed on them with 'Lemon Nana' drinks (basically a non-alcoholic Mohito) whilst trying to hide our cigarettes from any policemen nearby (there weren't any anyway). After a swim near to some Indian boys who were obviously enjoying the fact that white girls were so close by to them and with such little clothing on!!!!... we started our journey back before the sun started to go down.
I took a few photos on the way back, as I'd seen some opportunities on our journey there. When we stopped by a large bridge with a beautiful view, a lady with a small child came over asking for some money, but we didn't have any small change. I felt bad about that :-( It looked as though she was living in a tiny settlement with other people literally under tarpaulins with no beds, comforts or much food. I haven't seen many sights like this, but I'm sure I will see many more in the future in India.

We arived back in Vagator (Vagabore as we'd labelled it, along with Chabora... this was before realising that Arambol wasn't actually much livelier... Aramborl) and had some Dal, rice and chapatis at Noble's Nest - SUCH nice food in there and really cheap too! Sausage the overweight dog had our leftovers as they always give us too much.

Reflecting on the trip to Arambol and comparing it to what I'd heard, it seemed sad to think that was once a vibrant, party place with lots going on, was now a fear-filled, quiet place where nothing really happened apart for sunset point.
I thought about the Beasts being there only a few months before and wished they'd been there with me or that I'd gone when they were there so I could've experienced what they did. I wondered where they'd stayed along the beach, which bars they went to and who they met. It was a little bit emotional thinking about them and missing them lots. But, I had a new friend to spend time with and we got on so well. We talked about how we were reading from the same 'hymn sheet', that everything between us was 'effortless' and how we were both so grateful in finding each other to share our time together.
It really has been great and what could be seen as quite a rare meeting of two people.

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Comments

[Zoe]

Such a shame that Arambol is like this now, although so many people were saying when we were there how much and how quickly it was changing. The 10pm music ban was strict apart from the odd occasion where the bar had paid off the police and on New Years and Carnival (definitely worth going to). It was never a party place but you could smoke even though it is illegal throughout India. The settlement by the Siolim bridge was a sad sight, but you will see a lot worse when you leave Goa. If you go back to Arambol, try the other end of the beach towards Ivon's guest house, it's much quieter and the guys who work in Samantha Inn (Rocky and Yogi) if they're still there are both really cool. You will still get bothered by the sellers! I only avoided it as they got used to me never buying anything and knew I was staying around. There are none here, just twice as many other tourists. Miss India, and you x