Adventures in Goa, India
November 5, 2006
HHello Adventurers,
This is from my journal written a few short days ago, October 27 & 28, 2006:
My suntan lotion was deemed unsafe for travel. The security personnel took it at the airport while in route from Kathmandu to Delhi. I figured I could get more. The tube I bought here says "UV SPF 35", but it doesn't work at all. Part of the problem may be that I am completely covered in sweat each time I try to put it on.
After an incredible trek in Nepal to the top of Kalapathar, an 18,300 foot mountain(?!), up where it's nice and cold -- just across from the Khumbu Glacier and Mt. Everest in the high Himalayas, I am now in Goa, India on the coast of the Arabian Sea just south of Bombay. I have officially assessed the area here and deem it IS safe for travel. I am having fun.
The guide book says, "Goa is not so much a state of India but a state of mind ... a state of simply 'being'." (Goa, Lonely Planet, p.4, 2006.) Like its native music, Goa is trance-like. I am wandering, fancy free, simply 'being' and really sweaty HOT.
The palm trees are a perfect wall, a beautiful shady curtain, a thick forest fringing every beach. These are the skinny, incredibly tall kind of palm, bursting with coconuts. They look like sparklers. I am mesmerized by them. Many are too tall to fit in the view finder of my camera.
I have walked many miles. The other morning I started out in search of the 'German Bakery'. The guide book said they had "real coffee" -- the only place with 'real' coffee. After several wrong turns and misguided loops through some amazing villages, rice paddies and spice fields, I was mysteriously back at the same intersection where I had started. Finally I did find the place (the map in the guide book is totally wrong!), and the 'German Bakery' I discovered was "closed for the season". So much for real coffee anytime soon.
Eventually the perfect breakfast place appeared along the beach in another area not listed in the guide book. I sat facing the ocean thoroughly enjoying my cheese and tomato toast, a cold banana lassi and Nescafe..
That afternoon I trekked to the next two towns along the coast to the north. I headed out walking on the busy road. Rickety busses, motor-rickshaws, motorcycles and taxis honked while cruising past as if they thought I didn't hear them coming.
The next beach was overcrowded with Indian tourists. While munching on watermelon, I watched traditional women swim in the ocean in their saris -- five yards of long cloth wrapped elegantly around them. Imagine the load such a dress might be when wet and how liberating a bathing suit would feel for them..!? Most of the younger Indian girls wore swimming clothes more like the foreign tourists (European, Israeli and Russian) who were hardly dressed in even one square foot of fabric...
Soon the sticky watermelon juice was now part of my simply being, nicely layered into the sweat and suntan lotion on my face and hands.
I learned I had to go around the town of Vagator to get up onto the hill where the old Portuguese fort was. It was/is so incredibly HOT here. I was really sweating by the time I got up there on the mountain side. Perhaps because of the heat index, I had the whole entire Portuguese fort to myself. In its day it had been captured twice. I tried to imagine. I walked along the wall overlooking the beach, the endless ocean and many millions of palm trees below.
There was a fishing village on the other side of the fort so I had to check that out. I continued to walk further north and eventually all the way back. I wondered if it were possible to get from Little Vagator to Arjuna by following the beach rather than going back to the road. I thought I'd try it.
First I passed a large carving of Shiva's head in the rock (my favorite Hindu god). I thought it was a sand sculpture like the ones on the beaches of California, but it was indeed carved from a 5-foot boulder many many years ago and is now a permanent feature. Next to Shiva's head was a large cobra head which was also carved in stone. Pretty neat. (I'll put photos on my website: http://www.ofglobalinterest.com/pictures.html.)
Thus I started my journey around the rocks that jutted between the beaches. It wasn't a bad walk, but I found myself climbing the hillside and weed whacking through the jungle at times. Part of the trail was wet clay that hadn't turned to mud yet. In my treadless shoes, this section was much like ice skating. I slipped and slid and was nearly stopped in my tracks by a rather large pool of stagnant water... Instead of retreating, I walked right through the middle of it. Luckily, it wasn't completely like quicksand. It was, however, definitely muddy, mucky, goupy on the bottom, and I was sucked down a little. Yucky. My shoes were now full of mud, but I managed to make it the rest of the way.
That evening, I sat at the Sunset Bar along the beach watching maybe the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen. Really amazing, the spectrum of colors danced, oranges and yellows, then blues and reds and soon all faded into a black night sky full of stars. I especially enjoyed the soft sea breezes wafting randomly through my hair. The cargo ships were faint images on the distant horizon before the sun set, and after they were glowing with lights. The moon, too, was transformed from a distant feature into a prominent silver sliver.
I loved the dog at the place where I stayed in Arjuna, Rex, a big German Shepherd. He greeted me at the gate each time I came. Once he showed me a big stick and another time he wanted to show me his large dog house. I didn't go in but could tell I had an invitation. He was so human-like somehow -- a really nice dog!
There is nothing better than lying on the bed after a long, hot, ocean-side trek, especially after a cold shower and with a big fan swirling overhead producing a cool draft. All that suntan lotion, sweat and sticky watermelon juice was now down the drain.
Life is good.
I befriended Angela from California while at the Sunset Bar. She, too, was traveling alone. Her next stop after the beaches was to head via plane, train and bus to the 'Camel Festival' in Rajasthan where camels are bought and sold and paraded each year. Sounded like fun to me!
The day before yesterday, Angela came with me to Arambol for the day. She and I trekked further north to check out another Portuguese fort which is now a fancy hotel. There was one beach on the way that has become my favorite so far. Not a soul, just ocean, sand, palm trees and an occasional small crab or two running sideways to get out of the way of my bare feet.
Yesterday I was on my own again. I headed south from Arambol down along the beach in search of inexpensive accommodations, preferably a grass hut near the water... I trekked many hours following the shore and eventually came to an unexpected river with no bridge. I wondered if I could wade across without getting too totally wet. I took off my shoes and rolled up my pant-legs above my knees and headed across. Eight steps later it was apparent that the water was deep. I went back to shore to readjust my load.
Since I had two digital cameras, video and photographs among other things that I did not want to get wet, I put my backpack on one shoulder and my second bag on the other shoulder and headed into the water with both arms high, holding tight, hoping nothing would fall. Before too long, I was in water up to my knees, then it was up to my waist and soon thereafter the water was up to my arm pits! I continued slowly across with determination, aiming for the other side, hoping each new step would not put me and my luggage totally under..! Nothing but all of the rest of me got wet, not my shoes nor my cameras, thank goodness.
The journey along the beach after the river crossing was a wet one -- perfect -- a built-in evaporative cooling air conditioner. Nice.
I eventually found the perfect place, a funky little restaurant with good music surrounded by huts - right there on the sandy beach. I have reserved my room for a second night tonight. I bought a frisbee yesterday in hopes of meeting a frisbee partner. I will swim again this evening under the setting sun in the Arabian Sea.
Sincerely,
Heather O'Neal
Of Global Interest Adventure Travel
The Eighth Street Trekkers' Lodge B&B
Ann Arbor, Michigan
ofglobal@aol.com
(734) 369-3107
http://www.ofglobalinterest.com
PS. I am now home but not without jet lag. On the 15+ hour flight from Delhi to Chicago, I slept some. After the first five hours on the plane, I checked my watch -- only ten more hours to go ... then stand in line, customs, security, change planes to Detroit, wait, and then I'll be home...
Now I am home, and it is good to be home. It is cold here at home...!! The furnace needed fixing, the car needed a jump-start, and I need sleep.
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"If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Take off all your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness, and fears." -- Glenn Clark, writer
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View GOA PHOTOS here.
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