Goa… it’s better than its rep, believe me. Even tho’ I cannot drive I have hired the funkiest looking moped for 100 rupees a day (£1.20) & have been cruising round the sandy roads, listening to my MP3 player, dodging the cows & burning the straights. My petrol ran out on one occasion, so I blagg’d some from a roadside shack & headed for my pad in Baga. On the way back I pass’d my first elephant – all truss’d up in psychedelic garb, stomping his way thro’ the street. As to partying, there was a crazy taxi ride to a sunset techno party in Vagator – reminiscent of the Hackney squat raves, but on a balmy evening & cool’d by a soft sea breeze. This was follow’d by a game of snooker with a mad Scotsman & a chill out with some Camden girls on a rooftop terrace drinking beer (40p) listening to the tunes I just happened to have in my pocket (handy when you’re fuck’d)!
I am staying next door to a cool Indian family, sharing their garden & toilet – which is in the middle of the street! The other streets roundabout are narrow, sandy & really serene. An old woman visits my patio with a fruit basket on her head & a cheeky little scamster (who beat me at pool) will get you your food from the restaurant – for a small fee of course! I am sharing with two Estonian guys at the moment. They are from a rural outpost of that little Baltic nation & seem a little country bumpkinified. We met on the fifteen=hour bus ride from Bombay, each of us amazed as we drove through Dharavi (a Mumbai suburb), where a world of squalid, one-room’d, tarpaulin lives smiled at us thro’ the glass. My continental brothers are nice enough guys & gave me some of their beers for the journey – which soon had me pissing out of the window, consequently getting a yellowish spray in my face.
So, Goa is like Glasto, only more strung out – Glasto on bikes! Heading down South to Hampi soon, but I think I’ll stay here just a few more da