|
North Goa (Arambol)
|
13th - 18th February 2005.
After 30 hours of transit, comprising of cafe hopping, night trains, taxis, and aeroplanes; we managed to get into Arambol in North Goa in time for sunset. After another month or so of non-stop Indian travel, we were happy to decompress and chill out in the la-la land of Arambol with its Western cafes, pancakes, fruit salads, pizzas, and cheap beer.
Being miraculously cancelled off our flight for Goa by the less than lovely people at Jet Airways, Claire went controlled ballistic (oxymoron of the day) and within 15 minutes we were booked on an earlier flight than expected and there was smiles and apologies all round... but we still hate them!
|
 |
Lovely sunset over Arambols north point.
|
|
The beach was beautiful and even the huge number of DSHs (Dirty Smelly Hippies) couldn't spoil that.
One day after a festival, the beach was covered in the flowers where the deity was covered in flowers, before they were chucked in the ocean.
|
 |
|
|
The first couple of days were great until the wind started to kick-up. After that, the main people having fun were the paragliding and the kite surfers.
Jason tried several times to sweet talk fellow kite surfers into letting him play, only to discover they weren't the most eloquent or sharing people in the world.
|
|
Another Hindu festival, and another excuse for a party, or in this case some hardcore gambling.
|
 |
|
 |
We limited ourselves to 30 rupees (30p) and hit the tables or in this case the ping pong balls. The odds were appallingly stacked in favour of the house but the locals didn't seem to care and the fenny (coconut or cashew booze) helped as well. Lady luck didn't ride with us for long and the within one minute we were broke and the banker was smiling.
|
|
After a few days, we decided to hit the motorbikes and explore the rest of North Goa. We started at the Anjuna market which was pretty funny.
Locals would dress up their cows and play their horns for a few rupees.
|
 |
|
 |
Everything was for sale and it was pretty touristy stuff. We've never seen a local wearing a Ganesh or a Shiva T-Shirt.
|
|
This little girl would tightrope walk, while her brother played the drum and yelled at anyone that looked without dropping a few coins.
|
 |
|
 |
Our favourite people are the drum sellers. They all seem so genuinely shocked that we don't want their stupid hippy drums....
|
|
Anjuna Beach was striving to emulate the Jockey Club in Ibiza, but with recent law changes effectively stopping the rave scene, the beds are lying empty. Music must be off by 10pm and it is not too hard to imagine the boys (police) showing up with their sticks and smashing your sound system into pieces.
|
 |
|
 |
Vagator was beautiful.... but also alittle windy. It was the sort of place where a group of scantily clad Westerners would walk past followed by a gaggle of teenage (under 50) Indian men.
|
|
This carved rock was all we had time for as Claire had decided we were going home now. (Driving in the dark is not a good idea here).
|
 |
|
