Distant Lights

State of Trance, State of Goa

At noon, when the blinding light is scattered across the sky, the air greets us with a soft punch in the lungs, filling them with heavy damp weight. In a matter of seconds the pores have let in the dense warmth, moisturizing the very bone and relaxing every muscle. Hot airwaves tickle the nostrils, our eyes get wet with hot pressure of what must be the surface of the sun, instantly jeans seem like a really bad idea.
We came to Panaji, the capital of the Indian state of Goa, a former Portuegese colony that enjoys a blended array of peoples and cultures, ways and religions, all coming together like elements of a mandala.
The jeans as the main obstacle to our well-feeling aside, we set out to drive along the north coast – rented motorbikes between our legs, sticky wind in our hair, sacred cows hitting the road just as we and dusty cars and decorated trucks do. We plunge into a chaotic realm of vivid colours and loud noise, spicy smells and sweet aromas, passing by the narrow streets of villages and towns, grasping a sight of vendors and beggars, resort hotels tourists and hippyish hikers, the voice of the crowd is that of a high-pitched tout, must-do bargaining and Bollywood music.
Leaving their echoes behind, we turn to the shore. This is where the cool blue of the Arabian sea meets the blazing white Indian sand impossible to step on barefoot. Eardrums accostumed to the noisy wind of the road slowly adapt to the silence of Ashvem beach, it stretching infinitely in line with the vast shimmering horizon. This is where your body switches to a mode that lets in the state of trance together with oxygen, leaving the body tripping gently on the waves of etheral serenity and a lulling rhythm of the surf.
With only a scarce presence of people in the early afternoon, the place welcomes a wider audience at the sunset. While the sun changes slowly from yellow to orange to carmine against the increasingly darker skies, we, all as one, bid the farewell to the day with gentle pluck of someone’s guitar.
There are no words to describe what the Goan beaches do to you. No, wait, there are. They make your personality melt with the environment, transforming you into an expanding clot of personal kind of happiness. Never and nowhere have I come across something as healing and powerful. Although not an actual drug, one should be prepared to face the consequences, which are nagging withdrawal pains and high risk of addiction.