Goa by Filipe

The idea of catching a 27 hour train from the infamous Delhi central station to Goa after the chaotic experience of the 17 hour Mumbai to Delhi fiasco made me at least feel physically sick. I decided to unleash a wave of manipulative persuasion on the guys to avoid catching the train not realising that very little was necessary to sway them into catching an internal flight. The decesion was unanimous to go by plane Ahhh the tickets were booked we would be there in 2 hours on Indigo Air for £60.
On arriving to Vasco da Gama I immediately noticed that the aromatic Delhi city smell had been left behind somewhere near the Delhi Central Station area I would imagine. Goa is beautiful and a complete contrast to Mumbai and Delhi. The clean air inflowing into my lungs cleansing my contaminated aveoli and the well preserved architecture from the Portuguese colonial days made me feel just fine and dandy. I didn’t feel that I was in mainland India but more on an island. We decided at the airport that we would go to Arambol beach in the north to live on a beach shack in true hippie fashion. A 1250 rupee taxi ride later we arrived. We had officially arrived in hippie land, dread locks, tattoos covering 90% of all body parts, bob Marley music, musicians, marijuana and all the stereotypical clichés that they are associated with. Everyone was walking around the market stalls in bare foot I could only think of the hygiene risks associated.
On walking onto the sandy beach with the heavy rucksacks that will explain spinal problems when we are all old and grey as we definitely over packed as we seem to be leaving clothes everywhere in an aim of reducing net weight. Mark is definitely the worst of the group having started this epic journey with an astonishing 30 kg on a wheely bag.
In writing this a week later what happened in Goa is pretty cloudy because we pretty much over relaxed and I can’t differentiate between the days and so I will attempt in being as vague as possible with dates. Goa involved a lot of sleeping, drinking, some site seeing and clubbing. We would relax on the beach almost every night and watch the sun set, which is a breathtaking experience and something I never got tired of. We continued the trend of eating local food, having thought we had avoided the dreaded Delhi Belly. Goan food is pretty amazing, the curry is completely different containing a lot less cream etc. One of the days we had fresh fish, Mark and I choose a variety including lobster yummy. What I am about to say might come as an absolute shock to many so brace yourselves for the unveiling of the true Goan experience.
In going to Goa I was expecting on a social and nightlife level crazy psychedelic trance parties on the beaches till the early hours of the following afternoon. I was expecting hippie gatherings around bomb fires on the beach with live music and crazy dancing. Ohh we did scour the beaches for these famous parties (mostly rumours) to no avail. I felt we had to chase the night a bit too hard in Goa, I guess one comparison would be going to Ibiza and spending 4 hours looking for a crowd of people. Ohhh and can I say that the Russians have completely invaded Goa, I found myself picking up a few words in Sputnik.
Goa has beautiful villas left behind by the Portuguese but even more impressive are the various churches scattered around the state. It ponged of typical colonial architecture, having lived in Portugal I could definitely see influences from churches back home. For the last two days we decided to change beach and go to Dona Paula beach near Paniji the capital, we stomped up the cash and stayed in a very nice beach hotel resort. We took advantage of the laundry service provided, which we duly reciprocated with 15kg of laundry. Fresh clothing finally, no fabreeze abuse on the clothes.
The last days in Goa we found ourselves talking about the following destination “Thailand”.
From comments being left, some may think I hate India. I don’t hate India, I just find it unbelievable how they can be so far behind with respect to poverty and service but seem to have one of the fastest growing economies. On leaving Mumbai you have to pass the immigration desk. Now is this coincidence or do these people have absolute power and demonstrate this by not giving a flying f*ck about their jobs. She kept me waiting behind the yellow line for 5 mins whilst she attended to a personal call on her mobile. Ok it could be a family emergency, give her the benefit of the doubt, what about when I was summoned to her desk for her to progress on having another phone conversation. A joke in my opinion.