Got To Goa

We arrived in Goa in the afternoon thinking we could just hop in a rickshaw to Agonda. Unfortunately Agonda was quite a bit further than we thought and it turned out we needed to pull a rickshaw, bus, rickshaw combo to get there. No sweat for us, Justin and I are old pros. Getting to the bus station and finding the bus was easy, but as we got on board the conductor stopped us and mumbled something incoherent about our bags. We were trying to figure out what he was saying while standing on the practically empty bus when he pointed to the roof indicating that that is where our bags needed to go. So I told Justin I would figure it out. Now I was assuming that he was going to get some guy to take care of the bags, but instead he took off to the chai stand leaving me standing there looking at a ladder up to the roof. Well, I guess I am on my own.
I hoisted Justin's pack on my back and started climbing the ladder . I had gathered quite an intrigued crowd, mostly men who started watching me and discussing my bus scaling technique. I managed to get to the top no problem but then started to feel a bit panicked because getting to the top of the ladder was relatively easy but actually getting from the ladder to the bus was going to be another matter. I employed a sort of awkward inch worm shuffle, covering myself in dirt and grime while prostrating on the roof of the bus. But at least I didn't fall or dropped the pack in the process. A success, since as I slid onto the bus I was shimming awkwardly side to side and had several white knuckle moments where the pack lurched to one side or the other. But I made it. I tentatively darted across the corrugated metal roof to the rack and clip the pack to the frame so that it didn't go flying off the back of the bus. I then made my way back to the ladder. And again panic set in. I am sure you have experienced the sensation at the top of a rather steep ladder or hill when you realize you are going to have to swing your legs over the ledge and go back down. And it dawned on me right then that when we arrive I, ( read Justin,) was going to have to do the descent with the pack on. But the crowd watching me had grown and I couldn't very well stay up there on the top of the bus. I had to get down and get the other pack up there. So I swallowed my fear and descended the ladder.Then as I was coming down I saw Justin through the window of the bus sitting facing the other direction gazing peacefully out the window. Hmmm, I thought, what is wrong with this picture? Here I am covered in dust, and in all white I might add, and my strong male companion is resting comfortably on the bus waving at children. But I didn't want to disappoint my supporters now, since I could see they had called a number of other men over to watch me attempt the second pack. So I hoisted my pack and up I went. All the timing fretting and wishing I could stay up there rather than come down again. But again I made it up and back in one piece.

After my time as a Sherpa I got on the bus and Justin, true to form says, "girl you're filthy." Well he didn't say it but I can tell he's thinking it. "That was quite an experience. I had to climb those packs up there myself." I hinted
"good work girl," he said. Obviously the feat was lost on him. And then sure enough we were off. When we arrived in the town where we were meant to disembark I'd figured out what we were going to do about unloading our packs, since it is all I had been thinking about for the last fifteen minutes. While Justin is big and strong I thought his height might make carrying those packs on the ladder actually more difficult. So instead I told him I will climb up and hand the packs over the ledge to you. A rather simpler system. From there we are supposed to get a rickshaw, but there were any only taxis. Of course. Taxis being considerably more expensive.

Justin and I haggled with the lone taxi driver and eventually agreed on the fare to Agonda. Haggling is such an art, especially since you almost never know how much anything is actually worth. But a good rule of thumb is to ask the price, and then no matter what is said cut it in half or maybe even two thirds as a counter-offer. This usually is met by a look of shock indicating that you have greatly offended. Then they will ask you for your real price. And you should repeat your low-ball offer. From there they will give you a counter offer, which you should indicate is equally as offensive. Thank them and begin to walk away, that is when the price usually starts to drop to something in the reasonable range. Once the offers start to get reasonable give an inch and then don't budge. Deal done!

So we get in the taxi and ride out to Agonda. Agonda is beautiful and if I were to go back to Goa, Agonda is where I would go. For four days we sat on the beach without anyone bothering us. We slept in a hut literally 100 feet from the sea. And we met some really nice travelers, including a David Hainey doppelganger, Chad from Vancouver traveling with his eccentric Quebecois father Michelle. Michelle made fun of me for being American," he could tell," he said. Although he did tell me I sounded very Canadian when we were discussing the cheapest places to ski in Europe. Funny guy. Michelle and Chad were cruising around India on an Enfield Bullet. Very cool. It was also in Agonda that we experienced one of the highlight moments of the trip so far.

Agonda, we had learned is a very quiet place. Everywhere is usually dead by 10pm. But on the night we arrived, there was going to be a dance performance at the restaurant affiliated with our huts, Dock 'n' Chill is the name. We were sitting in the lovely lounge area smoking tobacco from the hookah with Chad and Michelle and Justin's friend Heidi, who was the reason we came to Agonda. There was a large party of Indians also there, as well as dozens of other travelers watching the dancing. It was quite a party and then all of a sudden the bar man yelled, "drinks are on the house." That was definitely a first, and took the festivities to a new level. Everyone had a great night dancing, drinking, and generally enjoying the festive atmosphere. At midnight an official showed up to shut the party down. We learned later that this was a very rare event in Agonda, and that the party was in honor of the Goan president of Shell Oil, who was there celebrating his birthday. One of those spontaneously lucky moments in life where everything falls into place and it seems that it is just for you. Actually the whole experience in Agonda was like that.

Highlights of Agonda
partying with Mr. Shell Oil
relaxing on the beach with practically no one else in sight.
meeting other interesting travelers
yoga on the rooftop of the ashram where Heidi is staying
sleeping to the sounds of the waves

Lowlights of Agonda
none, it was perfect

Justin and I were sad to leave a few days later. We weren't sure that we were making the right choice leaving Agonda for another beach town in Goa, Arambol, in the north. But we were planning to meet some other travelers, Sean and Aileen that we had met, and were looking forward to seeing the countryside of Goa, so off we went. We had noticed that the travel infrastructure of Goa seemed decidedly less built up than in other parts of India and so we decided to hire a driver to drive us to Arambol. We also thought that it might be nice to have a local give us a bit of a tour in the capital city. Unfortunately Ashok, our driver, wasn't much of a tour guide although he did stop in Old Goa so that we could see the Basilica Bom Jesus. They have some saint's body in there that hasn't decomposed in over 400 years. They used to take his body down every year so people could celebrate and revere him. But they had to stop doing that a few years back cause some woman bent down as if to kiss his foot and bit off his toe, claiming to be his descendant and wanting to take a piece of her relative home with her.

After touring Old Goa for a while we got back on the road to Arambol. When we got to town we had Ashok drop us off at the hotel that Aileen and Sean were staying and booked a room. At first we thought being on the second floor in the corner unit would be nice, boy were we wrong. About 100 meters away from us was the local Russian trance bar which serenaded us every night and into the dawn. The trance bar really sums up Arambol. Sean later told us that it was totally different when he had been there ten years ago. And I imagine that in about ten years Agonda could have the same fate. It was very built up in Arambol and seemed to be attracting a certain type of tourist. (Read pain in the ass nouveau riche Russians.) There was also a large population of trapped-in-time hippies who must have come to Arambol in the 70's and never left. In fact if they ever stopped smoking charras long enough they might be as startled by the changes as Sean.

The one highlight of Arambol was the Wednesday market in the neighboring town of Ajuna. The market was a hotbed of activity and we went with Sean who is a haggling pro. In fact he taught us a few tricks of the trade. And he was the one who told us that our counter offers needed to be shamefully low. The way he figured if the vendors could give us a two hundred percent mark up without batting an eyelash why can't we suggest an equally outrageous counter offer. Sean is also a shopaholic so it was quite amusing to watch him go full force in the stalls. He was also great because he took us to the Hotel Buena Vista for lunch so we could go swimming in their incredible pool. Thus we avoided the mid day heat at the market. When we got back to the market we were feeling very refreshed while all the stall vendors and other tourists were looking a little lethargic. It was then that we got some of the best deals of the day. I bought a beautiful green silk sari and a silver duvet cover with matching pillow cases. The bedspread and pillow cases cost me all of about $25.00. Imagine getting silk bedding at home for that price?! Justin also scored some great deals on some Indian style shirts and Ali baba pants. Suffice it to say it was a very successful shop.

The only other memorable day in Arambol was Republic Day, which happened while we were in town. In India they celebrate major national holidays totally differently than we do back home. The most distinct difference is that Republic Day is a dry day. Can you imagine no booze on Canada Day? It is almost sacrilegious! But we got around that one. Our buddy Raj, who was our waiter on the beach everyday made us pina colada's and told us that if anyone asked it was just fruit shakes. Thanks Raj! We spent the day getting pina coladaed on the beach, sunning in perfect weather, (sorry Torontoians) and frolicking in the sea. Then in the evening the local football (read soccer) club hosted a five a side tournament. It was actually quite impressive. They set up a full pitch in the sand with lights for when it got dark, and they even had an announcer and music blaring through the speakers. Although you couldn't understand a word he said. We didn't stay to see who won since it appeared the tournament was going to go until the early hours of the morning. But it was a really fun evening in Arambol. And then before we knew it it was time to head to Bombay to meet Teresa and Charlie.

highlights of Arambol
shopping in Anjuna
swimming at the Buena Vista hotel pool
Republic Day
Raj our cabana boy
football tournament
hanging out with Sean and Aileen

lowlights of Arambol
everything else about Arambol, with particular emphasis on sleeping within earshot of the trance club.