Spending a week in charming, beachy Goa has
been a delightful end to my Indian Odyssey. The silken sands and laid-back ways
of the previously Portuguese colony means the place has a pumping tourist
industry and an abundance of western amenities. Combine this with lush green
jungles, friendly locals and bloody cheap beer, and Goa has made for an
enchanting place to spend my last week on Indian soil.
We have filled our days exploring the backwaters
and quiet roads behind the beaches on our hired scooter. Having the
independence of our own wheels has made for some awesome day trips: giant
Portuguese churches, hidden historic mansions, secret beaches, tiny villages. The
monsoon makes everything damp and green; some backstreets are so overgrown with
jungle that the trees grow up and over the road, dappling the sun and
distorting the light. I have loved stumbling across quaint Goan towns and
finding a tiny Portuguese-inspired cafe to stop for a curry and a beer.
Accidentally arriving in Goa in the middle
of the summer rains has had its upside: everything has been ridiculously cheap.
We found a place called Spicy Idlis, which specialises in Goan food, and where
a hearty feed costs less than NZ $2. It’s been great being able to afford a
hotel with a pool and big, filling meals.
Before I left New Zealand, Mum suggested
packing some big, black rubbish sacks – she’s the queen of ‘you never know when
you might just need something’. Trying to be as budget as possible, I avoided
buying a rain jacket and instead employed some kiwi ingenuity . I cut arm holes
and a neck hole in the rubbish bag, and used this to keep my torso dry when
scooting round in the rain. Unfortunately, they were the budget variety of
bags, and I only realised towards the end of my stay that emblazoned on my back
the entire time has been “LOW COST” in huge, clear writing. Thankfully this
hasn’t made me be mistaken for a prostitute again.
One day we were riding back to the hotel
and stumbled across two tiny baby kittens that had been dumped in the middle of
the road – the poor things were so small they could hardly open their eyes.
They couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks old, and they were crying
and mewing like crazy. They were covered in fleas and were bony and skinny. I
picked them up and put them down my shirt, and Diego drove to one of the
restaurants where we had made friends with the owner. He told us about an
animal rescue centre that would take them, and we found the place easily. I
know similar things happen in every country, but what kind of monster dumps
tiny kittens in the middle of the road in the hope they will get run over? It
made me sick.
Goa used to be a raging hippy, druggie,
party destination, particularly in the 60’s and 70’s. There are still remnants
of this today – skinny, white, bedraggled 60 something year old ex hippies dot
the streets in some places, and I have never been offered so much hash in my
life. On one of our day trips, we stumbled upon an old house in the jungle with
a sign reading ‘deep trance, house, drum and base, international dj’s’ – it was
a secret venue in the bush that hosts amazing parties in the summer months.
Lonely Planet said that often mad trance parties are in secret locations so
that they don’t get shut down. I vowed to come back to Goa for one new years –
I get the feeling it would be pretty awesome!
India has been fascinating – both the good
and the bad. The ugly experiences seem to have made the transcendental ones all
the more arresting. Drinking salty Tibetan tea then chatting to monks in exile,
marvelling at Arabian desert palaces and camels and snake charmers. Sunsets in
Kashmir, listening to the 4am Muslim prayer call, sleeping in Ladakhi homestays,
coming across disfigured beggars with piercing eyes. Saying silent prayers in
crumbling Portuguese churches, sleeping with the Sikhs in the Golden Temple,
riding on the backs of motorbikes through narrow hilly streets. Flying down the
world’s highest road on a mountain bike and feeling the sting of fresh snow on
my face. Climbing up to the roof of the world and being utterly enchanted by
how close the top of a Himalayan mountain peak feels to heaven. All the perfect
days, and the difficult ones too.
Every bleak moment in this country has been
worth it for all those incredible places and smiles and spirits than would have
been forever unknown if I hadn’t decided to travel to India to seek them out.
Tomorrow it’s back to where I caught the
travel bug in the first place – magical, heartbreaking Nepal. I can’t wait to
get to the orphanage where I worked and cuddle Bikram and the kids again.
Ciao!
