A Taste of Paradise

Early In March 2010

So seems things have been going full speed ahead for the last few weeks.

Palaces, people, places, cities, towns, and countries... looks like I'm really cramming it all in. Not by design, it just seems I have been with people since my arrival. In fact if you count the minutes ...until last night I have been with family or just random souls here and there every night. Some of those nights were up and some down. All of these thoughts and moments had culminated and I found myself in Goa...

Known for it's early days trance scene and once occupied by the Portuguese, this once quiet and quaint city has grown into a tourist Mecca. As Miami is to New Yorkers, Goa is a quick and easy getaway for most Mumbai-kers. The fast paced, goal geared and money minded clans head here for their piece of paradise. The last time I visited here it was pre millennium, 1997 to be exact. Landing here you are greeted with ariel views of long and what from the plane seems like serene, silky white beaches and calm pristine blue waters. The dirt in Goa is a beautiful red brick color, but be warned the color sticks to you. Soon enough your sparkly white new addidas will take on this strange salmon like aura. Waiting for my bags I am reminded of the sheer density in India’s population. The flights arrive in synch one after the next... like birds flying south these planes come bearing their gifts, hundreds of eager tourists all wanting their taste of paradise.

Picked up at the airport I am zoomed and weaved through traffic with graceful ease. The speed at which this driver travels makes me wonder if he still values his life or mine. With white knuckles I grip whatever I can inside the car and inspect the beauty that whizzes by outside. Subtle differences like more freestanding homes, less busy streets and fewer horns tooting seem to spell out the fact that I have reached the place to be. Pulling up to my quaint but oddly situated accommodation (on the back lane off a back lane next to a local temple, not that there's many of those in India) I check in and to my pleasant surprise my budget holiday from society, as I know it has begun. The room a quaint tiled insecticide scented room with a toilet come shower welcomes me, the piece-da-resitance Is two lovely folded towels in oddly molded flower shapes come puddles (think plant life at a nuclear testing site) at the end of a rock hard bed, or as I like to call it, my boutique back repair resting site (sounds a little better that way) the bedding is a blanket and oil stained, off white (trying to be white sheet) accompanied with some quaint lumpy sock like pillows ... Mmm I wonder how many people have sweated their feverish brows on these beauties. Shortly after I check in and kill a few flying things, I ask the front desk if there is a safe in my room? They just stare at me as if I am some creature from another planet. I assumed at that point, all bets for room service were off. With the advent of no safe and a kind offer from the man at the front (front desk would be overstating) to look after my valuables personally I instead resorted to a Charlie’s angel/ MacGyver move and rigged the straps on my backpack through the handles of a creature friendly closet and secured them shut, I now had my very own room safe... Lovely!  

Feeling secure, I ventured out in search of perhaps a better solution to my accommodation as there seemed to be cheaper choices and probably just as GI Joe as this room so what the hec. Within minutes off walking I am greeted head on by a family of stray kitty cats (so cute) and a smelly old cow that I nearly bump into while sending a text. 
Looking at many other rooms, I realize my choices are plentiful and at lower prices too. I also notice the abundance of overly tanned some times lobster like tourists of all ages, most of which looked as if they had the misfortune of staying in hotels with no bathing facilities whatsoever. Even some of the poorest Indians had better grooming skills, but it was definately a close race. I wondered if this is how I would look at the end of my journey, like a dirty garden gnome that forgot to shave for month...hmmm. I finally found a place recommended by Lonely Planet Guide called Indian kitchen... cute and for 1200 rupees (negotiated down from 1500... God I'm Indian, It's what we do, argue on price) which is the equivalent of $30, I find that I can have a one bedroom apartment with wifi for 300 rupees less than what I'm paying. NICE! (But beware this is what they told me to get me to check in and upon check out, not having gotten my agreed rate in writing, they changed their minds and cheated me into paying 1500 rupees a night. If I did not, they had threatened to keep my bags.) Guess they needed it more than I did.

Come the late afternoon I ventured out to Baga Beach. A hotbed of activity I am told. Well, arriving I see that there has been a very eager employee in the beach business permit area. Every square inch of beach had a different restaurant-come-rundown shack on it. WOW, I had to take a deep breath and attempted a peaceful walk, all the while wondering why I am humming the theme from Mission Impossible. In this part of Goa, which has borrowed pieces of Ibiza, Greece, Miami and Mexico, finding serenity is a pretty difficult task. At every inch you see a glowing toy for sale, if not a fire show of some sort and each bar fights for it's right to make a statement with it's own music. My personal favorite was how aggressively they try to usher you onto one of their beach seats as a farmer would his cow right before auction...CRAZY!

                                                   Fire Dancer

Not knowing what to do or how to take it in, I decide to head toward destination drunk. Having followed a tip from a friend I met in Mumbai, I end up taking a taxi to another part of town in Search of a gay hangout. Upon arrival I see nothing but straight couples sixty plus in an upstairs open patio area sipping the drinks available. Where had I got to, it felt like I was on a cruise to Alaska... Only here I could leave if I chose. Meeting the lovely owners Jeff and Simon, I am briefed on the lack of a gay scene in this part of the world. The last owners of a gay bar were eventually beaten by the police and driven back home to the USA, along with their western madness. Drink after drink I become more relaxed to the fact that I was stuck in a hellish paradise, one that wanted me back in the closet!

The end of the night saw me stumbling into a taxi and safely home.

It was the morning that started with a KAPOW... As I finally regurgitated my midnight snack at 10am, Ouch is that my head, how can I feel this awful and still be alive... Ughhhh. A few more drunk nights, walks on a crowded beach where Indians all crowd in a central few pockets (think peewee hockey where all the players rush onto one square foot of ice), having to negotiate with rickshaw drivers who refuse to drive using their meters, an endless supply of hungry Mosquito’s, some fishy smelling meals and some magnificent sunsets…
An Awesome Sunset with my Little Camera!

I was happily in a taxi on my way to the airport out of here! Perhaps the Andaman’s would be better… at least I hoped so.