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| A gathering of local bovines at Calangute Beach take note of a pale-skinned human pointing a lens at them. It was our first real day in Goa after flying down from Udaipur and we were enjoying the sea air and sunshine. It was also our day to check out the more touristy beaches by motorbike and to be thankful for our relatively tranquil corner of Goa to the north in Arambol. |
| This is the local catholic church in the tiny coastal village of Arambol, and is representative of the kind of religious architecture prevalent throughout the region. It all started when Vasco de Gama landed in Kerala to the south in 1498, leading to the Portugese capture of Goa in 1510. Goa remained a Portugese enclave right up until 1961 and so Christianity as well as these ornate structures abound. |
| Within a stones throw of Arambol's Catholic church is this Hindu temple, as a sort of testimony to Goa's dualistic religious society. |
| Another type of quintessential local architecture - the pervasive and ever-engaging Goan beach bar. The ones up here in Arambol were generously quiet and relaxed - not like the throbbing techno parties of Anjuna and Vagator to the south - but you can of course still "party" here. |
| Another sunset at Morjim Beach, along a heavenly stretch of coast slightly south of Arambol. I passed this spot almost every day on my hired motorbike en route to and from the ferry crossing which connects the Arambol region with the more populous and touristy areas to the south. Let's hope they take their time building the bridge which will one day bring vastly greater numbers up here. |
| And what Goan beach bar would be complete without this kind of sunset? It was like this virtually every night, and why not? |
| More evening scenery along Morjim Beach. |
| On one of the last days in Arambol I finally summoned the initiative to climb this hill which overlooks Arambol Beach, and found a small world of Christian landmarks and Hindu shrines (and many monkeys!) |
| Sooner or later most visitors find themselves at the Wednesday market in Anjuna. It caters almost entirely to tourisits so a real bargain is hard to come by. However it is a captivating scene in its own right to shuffle through the maze of market stalls and European tourists in Bermuda shorts. These would be cheerfully surrendering mysteriously inflated sums for trinkets in the non-realisation that the asking price is typically 5 times the acceptable price. Like I say it makes it hard to get the price down where it should be, and a day here can be exhausting. |
| With respect to the Anjuna market, I prefered the Saturday market at Mapusa ("mapsa"), which usually contains little or no western tourists. It does, however, make you a popular standout and you can almost see them mentally putting on the higher pricelist as you wander up, but if you have honed your bargaining skills it is possible to get stuff at great prices. Sometimes the bargaining goes to the extent of sitting down with the merchant to have a tea and discuss family backgrounds with the intent of establishing mutual respect. In the case of this spice merchant, however, there was a printed price list, which no doubt was the "tourist" version, but a large sack full of fresh Indian spices for 10 US dollars still isn't bad. |
| At the Mapusa market I was photographing a row of autorickshaws (see right) of the type which are found throughout Goa. The drivers were hanging out for some business, but since it was a hot day I think they were relatively content to have each others company under a shady tree. Realising I had my own transport they engaged me in the familiar conversation of "what country?", "how long in India?", "please stay at my brothers hotel", and so forth. Nice guys actually, and I find that in India, moreso than any other Asian country I have visited, people on the street are generally happy to let you check them out, interact with them, and in this case take a photograph where they are really being themselves. The exception is if the people are very poor, and therefore the subject of baksheesh becomes unavoidable. |
| This is when I went to Hampi, but I came back to Goa afterwards via Gokarna... |
| I had another "bus ride from hell" getting from Hampi to Gokarna, but this one was particularly bad. The ticket seller said we would arrive in Gokarna at 6am, but at about 3am the bus driver abruptly pulled over and started shouting "gokan! gokan!" and I wearily tumbled out the door to find my bag sitting puzzled on the ground and then turned to see a trail of grey smoke following a disappearing bus. Fortunately there were a handful of similarly perplexed and abandoned backpackers to share the predicament with. It turned out that the remaining 30km of road to Gokarna included a bridge of insufficient gurth and fortitude to accomodate the bus, and therefore a mini-van would take us the rest of the way. The van magically appeared after more than an hour of us being hassled by autorickshaw drivers preying on our state of uncertainty and offering to take us to Gokarna for ridiculous prices. Then followed one of the more life-threatening rides down a twisty road I have experienced after which we were dumped and abandoned in a now miserably familiar fashion. It turned out we were actually now in Gokarna, but being still only 5am there was no life. |
| Finally a few of us ventured into the small town and located a shabby guesthouse which had rooms available. In my case, however, I'm not sure whether the word "room" applies, as it more closely resembled something you get when you buy footwear. However I would have taken anything with a mattress, a fan, and a window, and these were all happily present. I was absolutely exhausted (as you can see) and so I got "Dave" - one of my fellow refugees to capture the moment before I lapsed into a 9-hour coma. |
| I woke up in the afternoon and felt much clearer, although I wouldn't say it was my finest hour, and found Dave in the guesthouse restaurant. We went for a walk through the town and found these two large wooden chariots parked along the main street. We had just missed the Shiva Ratri Festival when these chariots are pulled down the street by 100 people. Gokarna is one of the most sacred places in southern India and this festival alone attracts up to 20 thousand pilgrims each year. |
| Saved by Palolem Beach! I woke up the second day in Gokarna with a sick stomache and knew I needed to get somewhere happy, so a few of us made the 2-hour pilgrimage to Palolem in southern Goa and - voila! Paradise. I even got a decent room near the beach. |
| I spent my last full week in India right here at Palolem. Giving full honours to Arambol and it's relaxed isolation I would still rate Palolem as just slightly better. There were no people hassling me to drink coconut milk or buy a crappy necklace, and there was a nice even mix of unpretentious travellers. |
| Palolem also has the distinction of facing due south, so it gets sun all day and gives its inhabitants both amazing sunsets (as seen here) and sunrises (as seen in the photo above). I got into a pattern of waking automatically just before sunrise and spending the morning lying on the sand watching a red ball emerge over the end of the beach. |
| On my last day in Palolem I went on a little photo safari walk down the beach and found these two Muslim men in mid-prayer. They stood for a time utterly motionless and silent like twin statues, and then simultaneously knelt down and resumed their silence. It was quite captivating. |
| Sunrise was always a superb experience. There were usually only a few people around doing exercises, tai chi, walking, meditating - or conducting morning abolutions. There was an undeniable spiritual energy and it contributed to an equally undeniable state of bliss which lasted all week. |
| On my last sunrise morning I stopped to chat with this little one who was likewise just starting his day. The "dog society" of Palolem Beach is well-established and out of control, as is the case on most Asian beaches. Still it's a look that melts your heart. |
| All good things must come to an end. These backpackers are probably heading off to a train to Bombay, which is what I did soon after. |