GOA...
We arrive in Goa on a hot Sunday afternoon, after an hour-long SpiceJet flight (one of these new low cost, no frills airlines in India). Upon arrival, we jump into a cab and take a 40 min cab rideup to Panjin - the capital city in the area. There we meet a nie local named Anthony, who like many people in Goa, is Christian and speaks a little Portuguese. After a couple of excahnges of greetings and jokes he hooks us up with his cousin's friend of a friend, who has a scotter for RP 200. We sign up, and in 10 minutes have a scotter ready for us. Anthony asked me for my license in exchange (as collateral)... I scratched my head and thought (well, I left the California ID back at home .. so the next best thing is an expired student ID card ...), Anthony took it gladly and bid us farewell. I reckoned any malintentioned man could just as well run off with the scooter sans repurcussions. Oh well ... India is on the honor system I suppose.
Our scooter is loaded up to the brim. This tiny thing is carrying both Erik and me, 85 lbs of baggage, a guitar, a spare tire, and a picture of St Anthony on its front (may he bless our journey). We arrive in Calangute tht evening, and wander into the beach. We don't have acmodation so we figure we'll just crash on the beach ... I mean, it is pleasently warm and breezy. Bad Idea. By 4am, the breeze stops, and the mosquitos come out. The rest of the morning was spent using cortazone to heal a bunch of mosquito bites ... thank God for those Malaria pills (note to self, must check the expiration to make sure they were still good).
The next day we spend with a pair of Italian brothers from Milano. The four of us head up the coast to Anjun Beach, Baga Beach, and finally, Arambol. These places are all fine and dany, but nothing particularly special. The truth is they are full with middle-aged Brits and Russians - not the crowd we were hoping for. Arambol, the last stop, is even crazier. This is the land of the left-over-hippie. I mean, there are seriously hundreds of westerners that just could not give up on flower power, and packed their bags, said goodbye to loved ones, and ended up in Arambol. This tripped out place is something else. Everything about it seems a little too far out there. So after an afternoon of playing guitar on the beach, and turning away beach erchants, we head back to Calangute.
The ride back was extra long, and extra sunny. I get back to my new apartment on the beach, extra well-done, with sunburns all over my back side. Good thing we packed some Aloe Vera.
That evening, the Milano boys and us head up the beach for some delicious sea food, and some King Fisher beer. A brilliant start to a wonderful week in Goa...
We arrive in Goa on a hot Sunday afternoon, after an hour-long SpiceJet flight (one of these new low cost, no frills airlines in India). Upon arrival, we jump into a cab and take a 40 min cab rideup to Panjin - the capital city in the area. There we meet a nie local named Anthony, who like many people in Goa, is Christian and speaks a little Portuguese. After a couple of excahnges of greetings and jokes he hooks us up with his cousin's friend of a friend, who has a scotter for RP 200. We sign up, and in 10 minutes have a scotter ready for us. Anthony asked me for my license in exchange (as collateral)... I scratched my head and thought (well, I left the California ID back at home .. so the next best thing is an expired student ID card ...), Anthony took it gladly and bid us farewell. I reckoned any malintentioned man could just as well run off with the scooter sans repurcussions. Oh well ... India is on the honor system I suppose.
Our scooter is loaded up to the brim. This tiny thing is carrying both Erik and me, 85 lbs of baggage, a guitar, a spare tire, and a picture of St Anthony on its front (may he bless our journey). We arrive in Calangute tht evening, and wander into the beach. We don't have acmodation so we figure we'll just crash on the beach ... I mean, it is pleasently warm and breezy. Bad Idea. By 4am, the breeze stops, and the mosquitos come out. The rest of the morning was spent using cortazone to heal a bunch of mosquito bites ... thank God for those Malaria pills (note to self, must check the expiration to make sure they were still good).
The next day we spend with a pair of Italian brothers from Milano. The four of us head up the coast to Anjun Beach, Baga Beach, and finally, Arambol. These places are all fine and dany, but nothing particularly special. The truth is they are full with middle-aged Brits and Russians - not the crowd we were hoping for. Arambol, the last stop, is even crazier. This is the land of the left-over-hippie. I mean, there are seriously hundreds of westerners that just could not give up on flower power, and packed their bags, said goodbye to loved ones, and ended up in Arambol. This tripped out place is something else. Everything about it seems a little too far out there. So after an afternoon of playing guitar on the beach, and turning away beach erchants, we head back to Calangute.
The ride back was extra long, and extra sunny. I get back to my new apartment on the beach, extra well-done, with sunburns all over my back side. Good thing we packed some Aloe Vera.
That evening, the Milano boys and us head up the beach for some delicious sea food, and some King Fisher beer. A brilliant start to a wonderful week in Goa...
posted by Jesse Sandoval at 7:36 AM
1 Comments:
awesome blog, man. keep us posted and make sure to drink plenty of mango lassies.
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