The Goan Coastline
As our time in India comes to an end there is so much that I contemplate…The towns that moved me, the towns that didn’t. The impressions I held as I revisited some places of my past and explored new places for the very first time. How I have changed and how India has changed. There are moments when I forget that I’m on the opposite side of the world and there are moments when I am in complete awe at the diversity of this landscape and culture, compared to my own. I smile from the friendships we have created along the way and feel gratitude for sharing these sacred moments with Justin. They feel boundless, inspiring, invaluable…and will be forever cherished by us both in our journey as a couple.
The final stretch of our Southern India tour reminded me of how difficult traveling from place to place can be - it has always been part of the adventure of “beautifully chaotic India”. From navigating train and bus schedules with language barriers, a lack of information on the internet, and an overall disorganization with public transit,…yet it has always come with great reward when you arrive at your next destination. Due to the pandemic, however, travel has felt slightly more difficult than ever before. We found ourselves often needing to rely on taxis to take us to further destinations instead of being able to utilize public transportation that was once available. Our blueprint itinerary changed on a daily basis, so we spent the days exploring, and the nights reconfiguring plans to our next destination. Of course there is a level of disappointment to have missed some places, but it gave us the opportunity to indulge ourselves in towns we perhaps wouldn’t have otherwise visited. It keeps us excited for our return…whenever that may be.
In our desire to keep things easy and within our budget, we opted to explore several of the beaches on the Goan coastline. Our first stop was Arambol, on the northern end of this Portuguese influenced state. After our hectic overnight plane ride, we arrived utterly exhausted to our hotel. The hotel was friendly and inviting, painted with the traditional white and blue colors of Goa. We waited nearly two hours before our room was ready, only to find that our $20 room was…well, less than ideal. We were too exhausted to turn down the option and search for a new place so we took our dark, damp, moldy room with a bed barely large enough for us both. We threw our bags down and slept in the 90 degree room for a few hours until we were able to catch our next wind. Upon waking up, we decided we would keep the cheap room considering we wouldn’t be spending a whole lot of time in it anyway and the owner was a joyful man who seemed like a good person to support.
We chose Arambol as our first destination with the impression of it having a quiet, laid back vibe. However in our exploration, we found that it has been taken over by Russian tourists and expats…(a cheap flight from Moscow). Brightly colored umbrellas and sun chairs crowded the sandy beaches, and restaurants that were nothing more than simple beach shacks were lined behind the Russian sunbathers, blasting electronic music. At night the restaurants would light up like a rundown version of Burning Man and their obnoxiously loud music would clash with their neighbors. We were not terribly impressed with the beach but made the best of it and enjoyed the soft sand and the warm ocean we swam in on a daily basis.
In arriving back to our hotel one night, an old Sadhu was sitting in the courtyard playing the Khamak. We initially walked past and went up to our room, exhausted from the overstimulation of the beach, but I was intrigued. I stood at the top the stairs, listening to his traditional Indian folk music but decided I wanted to be a part of this special occasion. I grabbed Justin and we both went down to the courtyard and shared a Kingfisher while a Baul man named Madhu Sudan played music for a small group of us. In between songs he spoke with his Konkani accent about achieving God-consciousness through dance and music, how we live boundless yet within the bounds of society, and how to live with so much love in our hearts. His smile radiated and his laugh ascended from the depths of his belly. We were deeply moved by this encounter. Later in the night, we showed Madhu pictures of Justin playing the bass and Madu shared stories of his experiences playing in Delhi for the government and having an audience of diplomats, such as Bill Clinton and his family. There was talk about Madhu bringing a bass the next day so he and Justin could jam, and although that never transpired we were still greeted with his mystic presence in the coming days of our time in Arambol.
We then moved to Anjuna beach, about an hour drive south. With our less than ideal room we had in Arambol, we “splurged” for a $40 room…a deluxe suite! As we entered our room, the air conditioning was a pleasant treat on the hot and humid day. “Wow, look at the shower! Wow, look at our living room! Wow, the bed is so comfy! Wow, look at that view!” We retreated in our room for hours, a nice break from the consistent drive to do and explore. The view out our window was of massive banana palms two stories high that stretched over the swimming pool, rows of bird of paradise and other tropical plants, and at night the path illuminated the palm thatched huts with warm twinkle lights. In a lot of ways, it felt like our first time actually stopping in three weeks of travel.
Anjuna felt a step quieter than Arambol and was certainly more developed. We enjoyed the Wednesday Maket, which was started by Israeli expats in the early 70’s and has continued regularly ever since. The jungle road leading to the beach felt a bit like Shakedown, lined with silversmiths, crystal sellers, tapestries, and Alibaba pants. We didn’t do too much in Anjuna, with the exception of lots of relaxing and eating delicious food, which included some of the best tacos I may have ever had. It was a nice change from the Indian curries we had been eating, morning, noon, and night. The owner of the Latin American restaurant, Mohit, is truly a master of his craft and he shared his recommendations of craft breweries, coffee houses, and other great restaurants on the beach.
Another two and a half hour drive down the Goan coast landed us in the laid back beach town of Patnem in Canacona. With the Arabian Sea to the west and endless miles of mountainous terrain to the east, this little jungle town was only a small fraction within the vastness of natural habitat all around us. It was apparent the locals there live a simple life, full of happiness and gratitude for the beauty around them. We spent our days swimming in the gentle waves of the ocean, Justin got to play a round of golf, and I hopped around yoga studios, which were endlessly available in this town.
One afternoon we rented a kayak and paddled down the backwaters of Goa. The river was tranquil as we paddled, passing abandoned huts, watching the colorful Kingfishers fly against the blue sky, and breathing in the silence of the mangrove. The only inhabitant we saw on this stretch of river was a sweet woman standing on the edge of the water. She shared a smile and a wave as we floated past and I felt blessed to connect with an Auntie in this country, even if it was only a brief encounter from afar.
One evening as the sun was setting, we were taking a rickshaw down one of the winding roads. I took in my surroundings, realizing we were in some of our final moments in this country and not knowing when our next return would be. As I looked at the world happening around me, I saw women in saris balancing bundles of wood on their head, dogs being playful in front of the small general store, cows unconcerned as the cars dodge them in the street, laundered clothes drying in the breeze, and two men dressed head to toe in white cloth. “This…this beautifully simple life. Who are these people? What is their family like? Have they ever suffered? What ignites their souls?” It was a simple moment, nothing more than the day to day life of this place, but it hit me in a different way and that image will be ingrained in my memory, I’m sure for years to come.
As another traveler once told Justin and I, “you can’t come back, if you don’t leave”. We are equally as sad to leave as we are excited to go and explore the next destination…Cambodia, here we come!
