Psychedelic India - a practical guide
part of the second SEASON
Material from the site "INDIA & NEPAL & TIBET"
First trip to Goa left me with the feeling of heaven on earth. The second trip was supposed to be a little different. In December in Goa the season starts, and thousands of tourists come to this region.
This time I traveled not alone but with a friend from Slovenia. My companion Vladimir or better known in the homeland under the name Jackson wears dreadlocks and comes to India every four years for the third time. At home in Slovenia, he's a famous man, happy rock concerts and organizes holidays to the tourists of the Adriatic sea.
Outside it was December. Day in Pune from where started our trip the heat was unbearable, and in the evening the thermometer fell to 15 degrees. In this regard, some of the thermophilic Indians wore jackets.
On the road, we took the minimum of clothes and went to the warm ocean. Our bus coupe arrived in the Pug early in the morning. Then, in a dream, sitting in the rickshaw, I felt as like in paradise. We went to Vagator, where he intends to spend two weeks. In the bar at the coast between tables and the waiters were sleeping, there was not a soul. We arrived too early for the beach.
Still not fully awake, the bar owner ordered the tea for us. Still not fully awake, he began to complain that the police had banned all the parties this year. All the party were conducted to a maximum of ten in the evening. He also announced that because of this people there are not very many.
My partner – Vladimir, the owner of a restaurant in Slovenia had mutual friends with the owner of this restaurant, who told us that before the nineties there sounding rock music, and he loved her, but later came electronics and a bunch of Ravers. He didn't mind, the more this music brought the money. Now he loves her no less than a rock.
After drinking tea, we went to seek shelter and ten minutes became the happy owners of a room in a cozy Bungalow. One dollar per person is not such a big price to rent a room for another day in Paradise. We quickly settled in his new home. Behind the wall lived two wonderful Jewish women. Five meters from the house opened a magnificent view of the beach. I was blessed with this state of Affairs. No worries. Wake up in the morning and think whether to sleep on or to move your body to the beach. Half an hour later I still go down on a beautiful beach with beautiful women from all over the world. Just lie there and watch the majestic trips to the sea of numerous girls.
Around the beach on the sand bars. Visitors smoke openly chal. Sometimes here comes the police, but not even trying to ban Smoking. Since the hippies they are used to it. Although if poor Europeans will detect marijuana, anywhere on the road, on the bike or in the village he will have to pay 50 bucks. This is one of the main sources of income of the local police. Other earnings is the bribe for the underground night parties. The last two years, late-night dancing is prohibited. The days are flowing, the Dec continues, but no parties in Goa. Promotory manage to organize dances motanzi 300 kilometers from Vagator in the neighboring state of Karnataka. Desperate Palilula spend 8 hours for the bike or pay $ 50 to taxi drivers, to feel the powerful Goa-trance. But I did not dare such an act.
Every evening, before going to dinner, I go out on the veranda. Huge trees serve as a support for the ropes. Fifteen meters is a Nepalese restaurant, where it plays mysterious music. I don't see the ocean, but the feel of his evening breath. It was at this time I think about the eternal. More precisely do not think, and just dissolve in this atmosphere. No longer exists the place where I was born and grew up, even dirty Pune, where I spent the last five months, has ceased to exist. It seems to me that nothing but it was not and never will be. Only this condition that has no end or beginning because there is no time.
After this meditation time to go and merge with the same as you are strangers. We all came here for a party and here is the story of one of them.
It all started back in the day. I saddles in extreme cafes of Small Vagator beach. Sitting at the bar lazily watched sunbathers. Someone played tennis, someone threw discs. Cows on the beach had finished the remnants from the pineapples and other debris.
One of my neighbors at the bar, invited all those present to a party that was to be held tonight at the same place. Party, good job! Well, if so, why not play football, the more football at sunset has become a tradition.
Before heading to the party, I go to the night Bazaar. A very crowded place. Thousands of tourists, many glowing trading places are located directly on the sand. Bright as the day. On every corner selling delicacies of the peoples of the world. Among dealer meet Europeans. Here you can find everything: fashionable t-shirt, carved leather shoes, charms and incense. In the middle of the Bazaar is the performance.
I meet three friends from Ibiza, whom I met in Pune. Two girls and one guy, all on 17. They travel from the age of three and has traveled almost the whole world. In summer, families rent out their homes in Ibiza and travel. Now young Spaniards went to India.
Go ahead and my attention is drawn, drawn on papyrus, pictures from the Kama Sutra – funny stories with mechanical bloat. The seller says that it is a novelty in Goa. In one shop I see carved leather shoes and trying to get away from her, after learning about the price of the shoes. The dealer is ready to change their leather sandals on my shoes or watch, but for some reason I do not agree.
After half an hour I'm already there, where there should be a party. Fit people and everyone speaks Italian. I don't understand a word. A steep slope in the dark, we went down to the beach. Kindle a large fire. Around us are palm trees, but they are difficult to see through the haze of the Indian night. Only the sighing of the warm ocean remind us that we are on the beach.
Three dozen people sit around a fire. Each prepares chal and puts it in a circle. Someone plays great on a drum, play along with him another tantalum and two pots. Someone asks me something in Italian, but I'm clearly not ready to understand him, and asked him in English. The guy's a little lost and apologized, as had no idea that people here don't speak Italian, and is overjoyed when he learns that I am from Russia. Russian is almost never seen in such places. Two girls join our conversation, and we repeat the ancient Indian custom.
Boom Shankar , Shiva Shankar.
New morning, new day. The usual morning activities, like brushing teeth and taking a shower helps me Wake up. Another event this morning increases my vitality. Our Bungalow with tridtsatimetrovoy height falling coconut. He breaks our roof. Fortunately no one was hurt. The coconut fell on the side of the roof. For dinner come to the experts for the removal of coconuts and cheerfully take them off from the surrounding palm trees.
It's the middle of December. In Goa there is no rain. Here gathered hundreds of young golanov from all over the world, but there's no real party. Everyone is waiting for full power, and the only hope for the environment to the party after the Flea market.
Again the same Shore bar, again, hundreds of motorcycles, honor, and a month and a half ago. In the sand mats with the national food. If in October of Shore bar was full, now it is overflowing. On the dance floor only a tenth of the audience. However, nestled on the mats people also catch a thrill, and where not in a hurry. Unfortunately at nine in the evening the music gets turned down.
No one is going to leave. I chose a cozy place and asked for tea, japati and spicy seasonings. After five months of living here, red peppers became for me a kind of salt. I'm not blushing, eating another spicy dish. Sat next to the boy, anxious appearance, he was originally from East Berlin and that was not very happy with my Russian origin. To us sat two Germans and one Swiss, they looked at me like I was a rare character in these places. We talked about stupid things and from above someone shouted:
- Russian, Russian.
I turned around and waved. The blond girl kept screaming. OK, I waved again. My neighbours on the Mat was going to visit other beaches and look for the party, I decided to stay here. Walking along the beach and getting a blessing from an Indian woman, I returned to Shore bar. I sat on the steps leading to the dance floor. To me sat a middle-aged Iranian, speaks English.
God, who is here.
My eyes caught the girl that called me awhile ago and asked if I was Russian. I confirmed, and she disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared with some guy. His name was Michael, he knew how to speak Russian and lived in Prague. He immediately remembered the 68th and we bought beer. Now Russian language sounded to me in new ways. The party was coming to an end, and the hour people began to disperse. We also decided to go to a strange place called Prim Rose.
That was for me the most mysterious in the journey in India is an almost complete coincidence of the places described in the Lonely Planet guide. There were all the bars Goa, and watch when and who is going in a certain place. Strangely enough, but all the details came together. I have the feeling that every tourist has a personal Lonely Planet and strictly follows the proposed routes.
My new friend, Michael, traveled to Siberia and bought a Lonely Planet for Russia. Everything was different, a surprise was waiting for him at every step.
The smoke from Prim Rose was visible from afar. The people here were going after eleven. Dusky playing trance, here are the people who looked tired after a hard day's summer vacation. Their conversations were something incomprehensible. All lazily drank, ate, smoked. In the center of the bar went freak and about something with it was talking. Then I met David – an artist and a glowing DJ-trancer from England, they were originally from Spain and spent here every winter.
David and I met at a Small Wagator Beach three days ago. He painted in gouache on white t-shirts with images of women by adding to them elements of the surrounding landscape: the yellow sand, sparkling ocean, the setting sun. All the women in the pictures had eyes. Almost finished picture, he was doused with water, so it is not yet dried paint has washed away, and the woman's image became transparent and less perceptible. Their works he suggested for just 300 rupees.
To us at the table sat friend the old Indian, Sultan. David admitted that he is slowly hypnotizing people, even if you do not want. I felt it right away. He asked me not to look him in the eye. Sultan was also a hypnotist. He was rubbing his long hair with different storn head and was directing half the people in the Prim-rose. David went to catch the women. This place was slightly depressed, and three in the morning I left.
The next morning we decided to visit Poloona Beach. On the way to the beach we climbed on the scooter on the many hills and crossed a small river on the ferry. There we met several old fishing boats with no less ancient bulky networks, green sea, palm trees and the fiery sand. Fifteen kilometers of beach and no one around.
Yes, and some of our compatriots. First, the main DJ in Goa and around this XP. Here he was known and praised. Even in the summer during parties in Pune, I spoke with Indian Dee jays. They praised Timur and proud of the friendship with him. Secondly, I met a team punk TRANS Tatarnikov from Alma-ATA.
And I met with them. Climb once on a steep hill of Vagator. At the top you can see the newly opened shop of all stylized Goa paraphernalia. Next to the shop tattoo Studio. I go to the store and examine the glowing chips. From tatsache she goes and starts with someone to talk in English. I thought her accent very familiar.
- Hello, From the it e place? – I ask.
EU - nice, from the notes of it?
- Quiet hood. And Yu Frome rush.
- Frome Kazakhstan.
- And I'm from Saratov.
Oh, cool. – she wondered.
As it turned out, there were ten people from Alma-ATA. All they were doing tattoos, drawing and the money lived here for six months. They offered me to open a Russian restaurant. To teach the Indians to cook the meat and live happily ever after. In General we agreed to drink as any beer. Another amusing incident. I lie on the beach, suitable Indian and starts to massage my hand. I massage something not wanted.
Next time, I said to him.
He pulls out a notebook and asks me where I'm from. Finds in the book a certain page, and I for the first time in five months read the text in Russian:
"Well, squeezed a little. Nothing, four hundred rupees, of course, is not necessary, but two can be given. Tanya."
Before I left back to Pune in Prim Rose there was the Russian party. Like last night I did another RAID at the bars and restaurants of Vagator. Not finding anywhere much movement, I went to Prim Rose. There is already drank beer Vladimir, Mikhail and quite unexpectedly, I met another guy from Czech Republic who worked on a dig in Northern India.
Drink beer, everyone in the bar heard a massive noise of motorcycles. Three minutes later come into the bar priyankachopra the Almaty. I greet them and we sit in a circle. Join us dark-haired guy with a pregnant girlfriend, whom I have seen a couple of times on the beach. The guy is Timur by Samedovym. We begin to chat. With emotion when meeting is so warm I start to talk too loud.
Timur tells of the last parties in Moscow, which ended with the masks show. Then follow anecdotes. Everything here was somehow in Russian. Yes, all the same jokes in Russian vpiriot not sickly. Timur offers to go to him and choose exclusive carved calomy for only 50 bucks. But I'm too tired tonight and going home.
The next morning Vladimir, who was not present at yesterday's arrival of the Alma-ATA TRANS-bikers and our communication, informs me that, "I say to Prim Rose had a lot of Russian yesterday." Yes, it is nice that our notice is already in Goa.
In the evening I go to the regulars of the far bar, little Vagator, where I spent two weeks. The bar owner, a Japanese couple, Vladimir, a guy from Israel, who had difficulty pronouncing "R", Sultan shake my hand. David finishing another t-shirt says goodbye with the words:
- Catch women in Russia!
- Sure! – I say.
Michael's giving me a ride on the bike before the Pugs where my bus brings me back to Pune.
Material from the site http://achababa.ru/
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