Indiahhhhhhh Again!

So I’ve been in Goa just over a week now. My first few days were spent staying in Anjuna so that I could hit the markets with a vengeance. Which I did. I spent so much time at the Flea Market last Wednesday that I was on chatting terms with the stallholders. Beyond a bag of peanuts I didn’t buy much, but I enjoyed trolling around the place. 

When I first visited that market in 1990 it was about the size of a football pitch and everybody just laid their goods on a blanket on the ground. Now it’s all bamboo stalls, and about the size of Hull. The quality of the goods has deteriorated sadly, back then you could get bags and throws that were hand embroidered by the woman selling them to you, now it’s all factory produced. Progress eh? 

The Indian economy fared much better when I went to the Saturday Night Market at Arpora. I came back with a cache of goodies, some of which might actually make it back to the UK with me! This market has everything, tourist tat, young designers selling original clothes and jewellery, live music, and food from around the globe. I’ll be going back next week.

In between I didn’t do too much, to be honest. The intense heat here, averaging about 33C, was disagreeing with me rather violently at first, I laid out in the sun for a couple of hours last Friday and was close to vomiting from the heat! That’s a new one for me even! Of course it didn’t help that I was sunbathing on the roof of my hotel, rather than on the beach (I couldn’t face the hawkers to be honest) so there was no sea breeze to cool me. Other than that I mainly did a lot of reading and even more sleeping.

I did find an amazing oasis in the madness of Anjuna, a fabulous organic cafe called Artjuna (www.artjuna.com). If you're anywhere close make sure to go. The good is delicious and even at the height of the day, it’s cool and shady. Also there’s a brilliant shop selling really gorgeous clothes, bags and jewellery.

On Monday I moved up the coast to Ashvem Beach. I’d booked at hotel online called the Rococo Ashvem which has just the most amazing feedback on Trip Advisor. The website looked pretty cool too, with it’s promises of being on the most exclusive beach in the area, and neighbours like Jade Jagger.

Now I’m long enough in the tooth to take those claims with a pinch of salt, so while I wasn’t expecting anything like five star luxury, nothing could have prepared me for the hell hole that awaited my arrival.

You remember when Terry Waite was a hostage and chained to that radiator? Well all I can say is if he’d been staying at the Rococo in Ashvem he would’ve topped himself. I was shown four different rooms that all made the dwellings in Slumdog Millionaire look like the Taj Mahal.

Celebration ice cream and Masala Chai at the new hotel

I was kinda stranded, unless I handed over my credit card I wasn’t gonna get access to the internet and the crappy 3G on my phone wasn’t working, so I decided to be all stiff upper lip and signed on the dotted line.

I went to check out the rest of the joint while at the same time texting an old Osho pal of mine who was staying further up the coast at a different beach to see if her place had any vacancies. She was out sightseeing, so I found their number and called. They did have a room available and were prepared to do me a deal. 

Slightly wary, I locked my luggage in the slum room, and jumped in a cab to Mandrem Beach. Not only was the hotel a billion times more fabulous (nothing could’ve been worse to be honest) but he was willing to cut me a deal and give me my own little four star beach hut for less than I’d paid at the shithole.

I paid half upfront and grabbed another cab back to the Rococco, took my case and handed over the key. The woman who’d shown me all four of the vile rooms had the audacity to look affronted when I explained I’d actually found a hotel that looked and felt like a hotel. I guess they were gearing up for a big old row about me trying to get a refund, but to be honest, they needed the money more than I did! Of course, by not even offering me the teensiest of refunds they’ve ensured I shall be correcting that obviously false Trip Advisor rating!

Yesterday, I met up with my pal Zia and her husband Steve - who it turns out are staying two huts down - and we headed up to Arambol for the afternoon/evening. There was going to be a carnival apparently, but what I saw was a bunch of people going for a walk along the beach dressed in bits of old tat. No different from any other day! We made for Oshoanic beach bar, and whiled the time away drinking mojitos, eating moms and pakora and pizza and catching up on where the last four years have gone. Fabulous

Anyway, it’s Wednesday evening now, and I've spent my first full day on the beach since I arrived. I’m somewhat acclimatised, and just finally slowing down.