Psychedelic India - a practical guide
Material from the site "INDIA & NEPAL & TIBET"
Mass tourism in India is a clear seasonal pattern. This is due to the drastic climate changes throughout the year. Those places where in the winter months of seething life, music was played and enjoyed life carefree international brotherhood of Hedonists, in the summer and autumn months of the monsoon turns into a hot and wet dreary wasteland with littered beaches and coastal restaurants are boarded up. In the Himalayas all the way around - in winter there are snow-covered Kingdom of silence and peace when the locals are at home at the stove, doing needlework and endless tasting of autumn harvest cannabis in the summer, in the mountains thousands of cheerful playboy and seekers of Nirvana.
But India is beautiful at any time of the year and has its charms in the rainy desert beaches and mountain guest houses, covered with snow to the Windows. A trip to India is not in season - for connoisseurs of beauty of desolation. Light nostalgia of loneliness, sad trip on a scooter, solitude, juicy tropical fruits, the rain, the flowers and the low price - that's what awaits you in Goa from June to November. About it the wonderful time to read a wonderful little story of Sergei, a Part №1. Part No. 2 of the story dedicated to the fact that I saw our author, having arrived in Goa in the winter, in the height of the tourist rush.
the first part of the off-SEASON
I'm sitting at the train station in Pune, in the Indian town two hundred kilometers from Mumbia (better known name of the city Bombay). Thirty minutes will fit my train "Goa Express". Platform located the woman, so she gets the newspaper and becomes obsolete on the floor to the table. Pours her boiled rice and red spices and start the lunch. She doesn't need a spoon, in India eat with their hands. Happily she eats leftover rice, removes the paper and disappears. On the platform crowded with people, glimpses of numerous beggars. Three months of living in India I got used to many things happening in this country. Now I'm going to another one, called a Goy. Here come the first day, who showed me Goa. This is a wonderful place, the place of metamorphoses and transformations.
Vasco and Panaji I flew with a plaque, was in Maple and almost stayed in Vagator and stayed in Anjuna. The further North the less people. It was October, in India over the monsoon, but the season of parties on this coast of the Indian ocean is still far. Only in Vagator there is a crowd of Europeans that live here and a few early tourists. In Vagator, I met a Frenchman, like captain flint, kind of funny, lives here and kicks. Impress me from this ocean of slender palm trees and the simple life. In the evening walked. Out where? - In the "Russian" village, met some village boys. Live in Goa and I think that in Russia. The first day I got lost and walked for two hours through the numerous desert restaurants in Anjuna. One motorcyclist (tourists are all motorcyclists here) tried to drive me but I didn't know where home is and stay again one night in the middle of a Goy.
Foreigners here like minerals, treat them gently, by all means slowly, getting money. The locals kindly showed me where I live just in the other direction in the hope that after half an hour I get tired of walking, and they'll give me a ride on the bike for 30 rupees. First thing in the morning on the beach, so attractive and stunningly beautiful. I met traders exotic clothes and fancy accessories.
- Look, do not buy, only look at it for free, they shouted at each bend in the road.
- No, not now.
Later, you promise? - obsessive they attacked.
"Yes," I answered rashly, not knowing what was in their network. Now until the end of the season I was chasing by new "friends".
Here I meet the seller of the marijuana, which offer special morning price. And here, too, marketing.
Instead of bike I rented a Bicycle and began its slow journey to respectable compared to Angounou Baga beach. Here was crowded, but boring. I don't deny myself the pleasure to eat a pineapple and went back. Along the road all the same palm trees and trade. In the evening I got drunk with an Australian couple and an Englishman. Australians I felt at home. The same wide soul and loud cries, which I am so unaccustomed, and which I lacked. The Englishman was joking, calling Australia a colony. Australians with beer moved on to vodka. We sat in the "STARCO" at the crossroads between Vagator and Baga. "STARCO" was almost empty. Many motorcyclists reduced speed to look in the restaurant. If there's party? All in Goa in late October, looking for a party. Not finding anything like that, they were off to the whole night, to fly through the narrow lanes of the coastal exotics.
After sitting some more, we also decided to try my luck and went to Vagator. At the Chinese restaurant we meet lot of people for this season. All was quiet until our arrival. People ate the pasta and was glad that sitting around also people use the pasta and rejoice in their presence. Not to say that we, the newcomers, were too drunk, but the Chinese restaurant visited this great sense of the universal party. People ordered a beer and was happy to multinational visitors more actively. However, we ate our pasta and went to look for entertainment for the feet and ears.
We returned to Anjuna Night in Laguna. Along the road were burning torches lighting the way to this mysterious place. Middle age exotic piqued my interest. However, he quickly disappeared when the restaurant instead of the party we met only twenty drunken waiters-Indians without customers and bad sound. The waiters hope to sell a couple of cocktails and promise party in half an hour. But anything similar did not smell. Party magic word here due to the lack of any movement we give the explicit deception and ordered vodka.
Someone heard about party in Calangute. We jumped on the bikes and ran for twenty kilometres. The Australians lost three minutes in the dark Indian villages with an abundance of tall trees. In the area of the Bugs our motorcycle overturned, we were not injured and moved on.
Calangute greeted us with silence. This place resembled a small town. Portuguese churches are closed already. It was two in the morning and we had way back in Anjuna.
Speed, wind and palm trees, but halfway we ran out of petrol, and we spent the whole hour felt sacred animals, pushing a big Honda. For three nights I finally reached the trees.
In the morning I was awakened by a knock at the door. Came two of my friends from Pune. Japanese Toshi and Indian Abri jumped for joy, seeing the beauty of Goa. While I was dressing, they had already rented bikes and ran away to another village. No, it's not because I slowly got dressed, and they completely lost their heads.
Soon we were sitting in the cafe on the beach, listening to Bob Marley and chewed the original banana pancakes with a sweet Jewish girl. Climbing on the motorcycles, we visited the surrounding beaches. The bug turned out to be filled with power by tourists. Anjuna beach was deserted, apart from the traders of local creativity and of the owners of a dozen seaside restaurants. Small Vagator is real Smoking a Republic. The smoke was a little blown out in walks the local police. This place was a real Paradise, where for five years lived freaks from Europe.
In a restaurant over lunch we met with a Spaniard, a merchant with jewels. He told us about his risky business and showed their recent acquisitions. For him, business is life, so he lives for seven years. India, stones, Europe, he loves it all.
As always in Anjuna on Wednesdays was a flea market. Many young tourists and merchants from all over India gathered here to see exotic Souvenirs. Among the inventions of Oriental crafts, I have met and interpretation of Russian nesting dolls, but it resembled a toad, all green and flat.
Buying a few Souvenirs, I sat down and began to bargain about the box. I was invited to sit and drink some tea. Rules of local trade is that the initial price should not be taken seriously. The price is usually divided into three, better yet five, and then begins a conversation. Brazen Indian, realizing that I'm not going to buy a product, cried:
- You spent my time, now go ahead and buy!
What Toshi slyly remarked:
- You too have spent our time well, pay us.
We even played a little in the quarrel, and went to look at the girl who was doing miracles on a unicycle on a tightrope with fire bowl on her head. Nearby sat a man in a turban and played the tune for a graceful Cobra.
People discussed the upcoming party after the flea market. We met the Greek, he has to play at the party. He sought a sponsor to pay the police for prohibited night. The party was held.
It all started very early, at eight in the evening. Before entering the beach, where the party took place, stood hundreds of motorcycles. At the bar, loud music was blaring. The dance floor was full of people, swinging on the waves roaring trance.
Around the bar, the locals have organized an active trade in the Indian food and tea. Goa-people sat on straw mats and communicated with each other to the sounds of trance and the ocean. Kerosene lamps illuminated the hundreds of people sitting on the ground and drink tea. There are Goa-people from all over the world. All were happy that found this beautiful place and got acquainted with each other.
Loving to dance, have transferred his energy to the sand underfoot, the sea air and surrounded good people.
The next day brought another unexpected event. However, all started well. Rising in the morning, we decided to have Breakfast. I like milk, I bought myself a liter of it. My friends and I decided to follow my example and also took a liter of this white solution. The Japanese drink this was given particularly hard.
We got on our bikes and decided to explore South Goa with plenty of Portuguese churches. Driving up to the gas station not far from our village, where we stopped happened to us such a case.
Abri was led by Yamaha, I sat back, Toshi caught up with us actuaily, scooter. Suddenly on the road jumped the Buffalo. For us it was a big surprise to see one meter from us a huge animal. A split second later, we were lying on the road, scared the giant, hid in the bushes, especially not suffering from our impact. So began the first day of Indian new year Diwali.
Then we bandaged sitting in a cafe on the coast, we have nowhere to hurry. In the circumstances we could fully appease, listening to the surf of the ocean waves and sipping a banana Lassi. Many campers looked at us as a symbol of the unpredictability of this Paradise.
The evening began with another search party. This time the action spread to Anjuna. We found party-bar and sat down to drink beer with French. One of them was desperately looking for Australians, he was soon to go to Australia to study. The second was Corsican and noticed that when I laugh, I acts as a vein in her forehead like his. It's relatives, I remembered the Indian movie about a family of moles.
All around smoke chilom. Once here people just do what Smoking chilom and do nothing. In the cosy bar on the coast sat a man of thirty. Among the three palm trees danced sweaty Chileans. Leisurely conversations about the early days in Goa went on adventures in India, Thailand, Africa. No one came out to the dance floor. Trance music starts and a guy from Glasgow gets E. But no one on the dance floor did not come out. Twelve young Jewish guys that look like Americans sitting at the next table. One of them promised to deliver the Jewish TRANS what sounds good and we already listen to it. Present in the bar began to unravel in the corners. Guitar people sit separate. The sounds of electronic music doesn't disturb two Swede to play the guitar (I wonder what they do in Goa). Initiative taken up by the American, and then a drunk Indian man (you ever seen a drunk Indian? It's very funny). Them hooked a few people who apparently tired from buzzing trance and dancing Scotsman.
On the porch chilling people of all ages. Everyone was totally relaxed and melted into the night of this amazing region. Posada a bit with each company and supporting a little crazy Scotsman I returned to the place from where the evening started.
There sat a Jewish couple, English and Irish. The only girl stared into the distance. The Irishman asked her:
- What do you think?
- About life, - she answered.
- Not necessary, and that people are watching, ' replied the Irishman.
On all night and continued some conversation. We were on the shore of the infinite ocean. Maybe it never happened.
Among palm trees under the muted music danced with his girlfriend, our Scotsman.
My friends left Goa the next day, and again I live alone. One go for all these many deserted bars.
As always in the evening I sat, consuming banana milkshake and watching the passing sun. For dinner began to catch people. Australian women tell the two Finns on his visit to St. Petersburg. In her story there was not a single good word about the city. She only mentions of the street and not understanding a word of English Russian.
I finished my lassie, the sun had finally fallen into the ocean, I moved to the only visitors of the coastal bar. We met. The Australian has learned that I'm Russian, and I heard a story about a wonderful city Saint-Petersburg. How to quickly change flavors. OK, it doesn't matter. It was necessary to say something to her before.
We drank a cocktail with a cocktail. Soon came for dinner yesterday an Englishman, and we switched to beer. The Finns told about their annual six month trips to Asia during the "dark" season in Scandinavia. As it turned out, many Europeans do it saving summer money for a trip.
None of us know where they will party at this time, we have used an unreliable method by looking at the ads in the trees. They all talked about the Night Laguna. We decided to go there, but unfortunately no one except the Scottish pair met.
The last days of October I spent on the beach. Due to the effects of the accident, I could no longer dive into the salt water of the Indian ocean. I was lying in the shade of coastal trees and enjoyed the beauty of the surf and the lack of stuff.
Every day, I met two Australian couples, people in cowboy hats with friendly faces. They have been traveling already for three months and they still have four. In the biggest hat Nick works as a hairdresser and spends six months in Asia. After several hours of talks I learned a lot about life and history on the other side of the equator. From time to time we were approached by traders fruit, and we enjoyed a juicy pineapple and taste of coconuts, which we had not even cleaned.
Two days later I left Sunny coast of Goa. In ten days I'm so used to all the charms of wild luxuriance that I forgot about the existence of the bustle of the city and forced conveniences.
Part two here
Material from the site http://achababa.ru/
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