My Goa Hell

Lunchtime on Friday found me in the domestic terminal of Mumbai airport waiting to board a flight bound for Goa. In twenty-one years of visiting the subcontinent, Goa is one state I had never visited so when my mate Gary invited me to come and stay in his little bungalow five minutes from Anjuna beach I decided the time had come. The 40 minute flight over I emerged blinking into the bright Goan afternoon sunlight to find Rupesh, the taxi driver, general Mr fix it and all round cool guy waiting to whisk me to Anjuna, just over an hour away. Barely ten minutes into the trip I realized that Goa is not just another small India coastal state but, in effect, a different country; India Lite if you will… Firstly there’s the infrastructure and the way that it has been developed: Compared to the whole of the rest of India it is more European; wide, well surfaced roads lead through neat little towns devoid of litter, there is a strong Portuguese influence in the architecture and the countryside appears green and lush. Arriving at Gary’s charming old bungalow complete with a peacock living in the little walled garden, I was already in thrall to the places’ charms; however I had not even begun to scratch the surface.
After unpacking and having a welcome cold beer I jumped on the back of Gary’s scooter and we zoomed off towards the beach. The drive was delightful, through winding country lanes draped with bougainvillea, woodland alternating with tranquil country vistas, coconut palms and paddy fields until we veered of the tarmac and onto a narrow red dust path finally ending up at a small bike park with a lane leading off towards the beach. We approached the beach through the back of a large bamboo beach bar, a blonde dreadlocked guy was DJing a very mellow Goa trance set and in front of the rows of recliners was the Arabian sea, lapping gently onto one of the most perfect beaches I have ever seen. Immaculate soft white sand with not a stone or piece of litter, sweeping along a bay with beach bars dotted at random along its length. I was blown away. Blown Away.
Now this all sounds a bit ‘travel brochure’, however it does seem to me that there is an extra something here that no photograph or description can fully communicate, however, I’ll try:
Anjuna beach seems to me to have a certain uber- tasteful cool. The pace is slow, the music groovy , its volume not sufficient to disturb, the huge speakers point straight out to sea, fifty meters along the beach you can hardly hear the music. There’s an air of friendliness and tolerance, it is utterly cosmopolitan and the locals seem to take part and enjoy the scene as much as the visitors. It is Glastonbury by the sea on a perfect summers day, or maybe Amsterdam on Sea. At this time of year the weather is totally predictable, clear blue skies and clear starry nights, perhaps 30C at midday and 15C at midnight, light sea breezes are cooling and carry subtle perfumes from the many flowering trees and plants. If this all sounds rather amazing well all I can say is that that is how it seems to me. Stepping onto that beach was an almost consciousness changing event. The beach was far from crowded and a few meters long from the beach bars, almost deserted. We strolled along to a headland only to discover another similar bay with its assorted seaside bars and small restaurants. We spotted a deserted bar comprising tent like structures containing huge luxurious sofas arranged either side of a massive bronze Buddah with giant earthenware bowls of floating flowers scattered around. Steps lead up from the beach into a place that I can only describe as a combination antique shop and chill out room with huge antique double beds giving a view straight out to sea. We chose a sofa and were immediately given a menu of the food and drinks available. Fab service, very low prices, the best seat on the entire beach. We watched the sunset eating Indian snacks, drinking ice cold beers and smoking to our hearts content!

Saturday and we set of on Gary’s Scooter to explore the beaches further north. I have read that this area is hippie central for Goa and I can believe it, this has to be one of the largest concentrations of old hippies anywhere! Lots of dreadlocks, tattoos, chains, bells and quite probably ‘books of Indian lore’. I could be extremely cynical and scathing about the place but I simply don’t have the heart because it’s simply so beautiful and it so clearly ‘works’.
Stopped for a rest and a drink at a clifftop bar, dropped in at a wonderful café in one of the many villages for breakfast where Indian and European food of equally high quality was being provided. A fantastic place for people watching, with bronzed bare torsos driving past on chopped Royal Enfields, dreadlocks flying and ankle bells ringing and everywhere smiles, laughter and a backdrop of Goa trance….
Then onto ( dur, forgotten the name) a village that has what must be one of the longest streets of ( for want of a better word) headshops in the world. We browsed, Gary bought a guitar and I bought a lantern and a scarf. We sat and ate Tapas and had a few beers in an organic holistic vegetarian bar whilst watching the world go by ( or the absolutely coolest part of it anyway).
Back to Anjuna for the sunset and then onto the local Italian restaurant for what was a very fine Italian meal complete with Italian red wine and all the other usual ‘Goa’ accompaniments. Service was a tad slow but frankly, in Goa, who really cares?
Sunday after a lie in we breakfasted at Six Pack, Gary’s ‘local’ where I met up with Rupesh once again and let breakfast turn slowly into lunch before I had to depart once again for the airport and the flight back to (sob)Mumbai.

As I said above, I could , if I really wanted, nit pick or more, I could talk about the way that the Europeans flaunt maybe rather to much bare flesh for the locals happiness, however Goa is a Christian state and I don’t think that anybody was particularly upset. Or maybe about the obscenity of the difference in life styles between the hippies of Anjuna and the Sum dwellers of Daravi, but the difference between the lifestyles of Indian Businessmen living a stones throw from Daravi are an even greater obscenity. I could make dry remarks about old hippies, about the aimlessness and emptiness of the hedonistic lifestyle but at the end of the day these comments would be trite and shallow because the thing that amazed me about the north Goa coast experience most of all is simply how indescribably chilled, cool and lovely it actually is. 11/10!