Getting Into Goa

Dear parents of the world,

When flying, if your offspring are incapable of shutting the fuck up, sitting the fuck down, and not kicking the fucking chair by the time they’re fourteen – you’re a shitty parent.  Next time put your kids in a pet carrier, and if they still don’t shut up I’m shooting them with a tranquilizer gun.

Sincerely,
someone who has been flying successfully since 9 months old

Longest 3 hour flight of my life.

Once we landed in Goa and headed to Vagator things started getting much better.  I mean any day you can see a guy riding an elephant down the road is a good day, right?

Furthermore, when we checked into Asterix hostel (awesome hostel FYI) …JACKPOT!  My 6 person dorm room had been upgraded to a single person ensuite.  Karma was leveling the playing field.  And as the first order of business of having my own room, I immediately proceeded to strip down and walk around naked since this was the first time I’d had a room to myself since I left home.  Oh the simple joys of life.

After a few hours of relaxing, showering, giving myself a mani/pedi and finishing my book it was time for dinner.  I felt refreshed and rejuvenated and was overjoyed because Bose had recommended a Greek restaurant for dinner.  Kali orexi!  And while the food was no Taverna Kyclades, I thoroughly enjoyed a solid attempt at avgolemono soup, horiatiki and grilled calamari.

After dinner, it was off to the Saturday night market which is basically a street fair on crack.  There were loads of vendors selling the usual trinkets, sunglasses, scarves, tshirts, jewelry etc etc but mixed in there were also bars, live music and a small carnival.  We did a bit of shopping and then not wanting to miss out on the legendary Goa nightlife, we headed over to the nearest club.

Along the way we met two Indian guys that came into the club with us because apparently bouncers are racist and give a hard time to Indians coming into the club without westerners.  The guys ended up being cool and we hung out with them for most of the night.  And the icing on the cake – the entrance fee for the club was only four-hundred rupees (roughly $8) and included an open bar all night.  Yes, $8.  Unlimited beers and cocktails.  This was turning out to be the best day ever!

Club Cubana was huge – there were 3 outdoor bars on three different levels, a pool, and an indoor area where the DJ was located.  And while I’d like to tell you I had some kind of crazy Goa experience getting bombed, stripping down and jumping in the pool, the night ended up being pretty laid back.  We drank.  We danced.  I didn’t get drunk.  We went home.  I think I’m getting old.

The next morning, I relinquished my heavenly private room and moved into a 4 person dorm that had no other people in it.  Sweet – I may end up with a single 2 nights in a row!  Getting a moderately early start, we headed over to Anjuna beach, which to be honest was pretty disappointing.  While it was cool to see goats and cows near the water, there was also essentially no sand to lay out on.  We decided to walk through the market along the beach in search of a more promising area.

Towards the end of the market we saw an empty stretch that could pass for a beach so we headed over, spread out our towels and lay out.  Not 5 minutes later and Indian chick wandered over and started talking to us.  Not being in the mood to talk to people because, everyone’s always selling something, I pulled my book over my face and let the other two do the talking.  From what I gathered she seemed innocent enough, just asking about where we were from and telling us a little bit about herself.  But then of course came the, “I have a shop just over there.  Will you come take a look,” which I guess is harmless enough, I mean it never hurts to look.  Unless it’s at Medusa or something.  The other two agreed, and then as she was walking away she turned back.  “You know if you make a promise and you don’t keep it, bad things will happen to you.”  Did she just threaten us?

A few minutes later a couple of Indian guys walked past us on the beach, staring at our bathing suit clad bodies as they walked by.  It’s a beach damnit!  And there are gorgeous, curvy, Russian women elsewhere.  Let me wear my bathing suit in peace!  A few minutes later they doubled back around and set up their stuff next to us.  And by set up their stuff I mean they stared at us as they took off their clothes and ran into the water in their underwear.  And when they came back they did that weird, awkward, sneaky thing where they tried to take our picture with their phone without us knowing.  And then another 4 or 5 Indian guys came by.  And then another group.  I’m not sure if we just got there early and the beach was just starting to fill up or there was a text blast sent out saying, “Half naked foreigners on the beach…come stare!”

Eventually getting tired of the heat and the leering we headed back to the market to get lunch.  But first we stopped briefly at that chicks stall because, you know, we didn’t want anything bad to happen to us.  At which point she obviously got very aggressive about us not buying anything.  So once again I stuck my face in my book and wandered away.  I’m not a good friend.  And while being on the beach may have sucked, at least lunch was good – tandoori pomfrey is deeeeelicious!