subject: Goa for aging Hippies [print this page] Goa for aging Hippies Goa for aging Hippies
After two days in Kuala Lumpur on our way from Australia we flew on to Mumbai, India. As we flew over the city it seemed the worst shanty town was right beside the airport. Maybe their thinking is like "The Castle" movie. Mumbai is not all slums. Some of the most expensive real estate in the world is in downtown Mumbai.
We had landed at about midnight, so it was handy to meet some Goan residents on their way home to guide us around the airport. We curled up for a few hours sleep before our flight on to Dabolim, Goa's airport. We hadn't started our anti-malarial tablets yet so it was a bit of a worry to hear the drone of mossies.
The flight to Dabolim was uneventful, but the taxi to our hotel had to drive over the worst public thoroughfare in the world before we got to the Royal Goan Beach Club Resort at Vasvaddo. The Portuguese ruled Goa from 1510 to 1961 when the Indian army evicted them, but their architecture remains. The resort looked very grand.
Our room was rustic and purposeful, even with the solid mattress.
Goa is best known for its beaches, although I still haven't found any better than Australia's. Anyway we were here for the culture, so we turned on the TV for the cricket. India loves cricket as much as sailors love rum, and it was available 24 hours a day if we wanted it.
No, we came here to see the place, so we went for a walk past the local stalls, shops, houses, and farms to the beach. Fishing boats with and without engines were beached on rollers. The boats without engines had oars. There were some bigger boats fishing offshore, but they looked too big to beach so they must have a harbour somewhere nearby.
There was beach in both directions as far as the eye could see. There was a stand for a lifeguard, but no lifeguard to be seen. There were heaps of stalls selling food, sarongs, and T-shirts. There was no running water to these stalls, so we ordered some drinks from the ice (but not with ice) and sat in some deck chairs under umbrellas.
The next day we started touring by taxi. The bus rides here are death defying. The first bus to the bus stop gets the passengers. One overtook us by crossing a solid white line on a narrow road on top of a hill. Then it did the same thing to another bus on the next hill.
We stopped at a Hindu temple and a guide immediately approached us and convinced us we needed his services. He refused to discuss payment, but clearly seemed disappointed with what we gave him after the tour. We thought his services were worth what we gave him, but no more.
Panaji is the capital of Goa. About 9km away is the Basilica of Bom Jesus. It is a world heritage site where the remains of St. Francis of Assisi are available for public viewing every ten years. This was not a viewing year which was a pity. The remains are supposed to bleed. Eileen forsook her Hinduism and Buddhism and other worldly accumulated isms and reverted to Catholicism to have gifts she bought for her family back home blessed by a priest.
The district was worth a visit on its own as it was the cleanest place in Goa. There is a ban on the sale of plastic bags, so there were not millions lying around the streets.
Panaji has a natural harbour where we found the Royal Goan Yachting Association. We saw their two boats, but they weren't racing today. I did get some video of Dona Paula Beach. We looked around the local market. Then we went back to the resort for Cultural Night. I wonder why so much of the live music at Asian resorts is old American Country and Western.
The next day's destination was a museum of Ancestral Goa at Lautolim. Several guides talked on their topics of expertise. They had recreated a village from 100 years ago with human and animal mannequins. We got to try traditional Goan food which was unrecognizable but tasted fine. We bought a souvenir oil lamp in the shape of Ganesha. It is magical because you fill it from the bottom, and when you turn it right way up the oil does not run out.
Wednesday at Anjuna is market day. It was the original Goan hippie market.They sell everything here from local arts and crafts to the latest London clubwear. You can get tattooed and pierced and buy any amount of silver jewellery for the holes. There are musicians to listen to and CDs and instruments to buy. Or just wander around in the hustle and bustle.
Beware of tricksters trying to tell you that you have something in your ear. They will remove it with their finger and charge you for the surgery.
Mapusa market is a different kettle of fish to Anjuna. Here the locals buy their fish, and meat, and veges, and grains. Stuff is laid out on the ground on cloth, bags, or tarpaulins. There was no refrigeration so chickens and slabs of meat were hanging in the breeze.and the sun. The smell was overpowering.
I bought a bottle of Old Monk rum I reckon they brewed in a 44 gallon drum out the back. I drank it back in Australia and survived. Actually it tasted fine, but it left an unmovable stain on a pine dressing table.
