Just a few days in Arambol, North Goa, and it's easy to see why most people who come here stay for months on end - even years, in some cases. With little in the way of major commercial developement, this beautiful beach-side town is brimming over with beach huts, chilled out cafes and bars, juice joints, a bustling market, ayurvedic clinics, yoga classes, t'ai chi, meditation, hula-hooping, cookery classes, tabla lessons, belly-dancing, break-dancing, live music, techno parties, reggae nights, Goa trance, Reiki, hypnotherapy, chakra cleansing, dreadlock workshops...pretty much everything the modern-day hippy could ever want or need.
I arrive mid afternoon, having taken to local bus from Pernem (the closest rail head) to the bus stand in Arambol, about a 10 minute walk from the beach. As luck would have it, I get chatting to an Irish guy outside the bank, who tells me about some uber-cheap beach huts tht he's staying in - and even better, he gives me a (white-knuckle) ride on the back of his Royal Enfield, straight to the door. Perfect! At between 300 - 400 rupees per night for a beach side hut (shared bathrooms), Cock's Town (yes, this was really the name of the place), is on prime beachfront property. Ok, so the bamboo shacks don't look like they would withstand even a slight wind, but the I can't argue with the location, or the price.
Arambol is a strange little place in many ways - whilst being unbelievably chilled out, there are constant mutterings that it is almost entirely controlled by the Russian Mafia. This is evident pretty much instantly - the whole town has a huge Russian population, and many of the signs, posters, restaurants and bars advertise exclusively in Russian. From movie nights to borscht on the menu, the Russians really have Arambol monopolised, closely follwed by the Israeli contingent, who wander around looking effortlessly attractive all the time. Whether that's your cup of tea or not, it doesnt matter, because Arambol really is a place where anything goes. Whatever 'scene' you are in to, Arambol has it. (But it helps if you smoke weed all the time, are surgically attached to a ukelele and have dreadlocks...)
As soon as I arrive, I ditch my bag, shower and head out to explore, with the primary intention of finding a yoga class. After about an hour (and several jewellery-stall distractions....), I bump in to Alpesh, a local yoga teacher and healer. He talks a good talk, and has a very spacious (if ramshackle!) studio, so I decide to give his classes a try, starting first thing the following morning. Happy that Ive joined a class, the rest of my day is dedicated to Kingfisher and joints with the 2 German boys in the hut next door. The smell of ganga is EVERYWHERE in Arambol, like a pleasant hippy pot-pourri. Certainly makes a welcome change from the noxious Mumbai air...
The next day i arrive to my yoga class, full of the joys and ready for what I though would be a gentle reitorduction to yoga after a few months off. I was very much mistaken! Alpesh is a taskmaster, pushing me to the limits of my physical capabilities at times, and by the time my first class is over I pretty much collpase on the beach, aching. Luckily the classes don't seem as challenging as my practice increases, and I begin to learn that (although a little unconventional), Alpesh isn't the yoga-Nazi I intitally imagined (although he did threaten to hit me with a bamboo stick yesterday...). He's friendly, encouraging and his classes are small, so sometimes the lessons are one-on-one. For Rs 300 for a 2 hours session, there's no complaints here!
The rest of my days in Arambol are spent walking on the beach (i think one of the nicest ones in Goa - very spacious and only a few cows), perusing the market (fairly generic tat, reserved for those that want to "buy" being a pseudo-hippy), drinking chai/kingfisher/fresh mango juice, reading, chatting and joints with the Germans and occassionally dodging slighty clingy Indian men who seem to latch on to me. Nonetheless, everyone is smiling here (aside from a few stern looking Russians). Everyone and everything is shanti shanti. The restaurant staff - mostly young guys who have come from the far North of India or Nepal to work for the busy season - think they have struck gold. A job, by the beach? Perfect!
As a small aside: I find it strange - almost a little desperate/sad - there are market stalls where people can go to get thier hair dreadlocked. Don't get me wrong, I love a good dreadlock, but to actively seek out a place to fast-track the hair-matting process...? Hmmm. A little contradictory to the laissez-faire appraoch taken by the people who have taken years to cultivate such a gnarly do. Goa: just another mall piece of India where westerners can come to live out their bohemian dreams...
4 days is barely enough time to enjoy all that Arambol has to offer, but can certainly see myself returning for a few weeks, perhaps before the end of my trip. But if I don't leave now I will almost definitely get stuck there...which doesnt sound like a bad thing actually! Although given that it's fast approaching Christmas and New Year, Goa is about to hit FULL POWER, so perhaps this is the perfect time to escape the chaos!
I take a few local buses from Arambol, eventually to Margao, where i have a train to Karnataka in the morning. There's very little ofinterest in Margao, and is a just stopping off point for most people making connections elsewhere. Its late afternon by the time I arrive, and assisted by a couple of friendly Indian guys that I meet on the bus, I find a cheap hotel for the night (Hotel Annapurna - AVOID AT ALL COSTS). It's a bit rough and ready, but I dont think too much of it - Ive stayed in far worse places. Around 11, i finish reading and turn the lights out for the night. It's hot, and the noise of dogs fighting and howling in the alleyway makes me restless, butI drift off nontheless. Then, around 12.45am, there is a loud knock on the door followed by silence.
I sit bolt upright in bed, but dont move a muscle. At increasing frequency for th next 2 hours, an unidentified man (most probably the hotel manager) continues to bang and pound at my door, occasionally shouting "Madam, open this door; Let me in".
To say I am terrified is an understatement. The door is bolted from the inside, so I'm sure that he can't get in, but nonetheless I sit awake on the bed until morning, shaking and wondering what business anyone - manager or otherwise - could have to come to my door so late. There's no fucking way I'm answering the door, of this I am sure.
Naturally, my mind is in overdrive - what if he gets in? What then? It's pitch black, I have no phone, I'm two storeys up and there are bars on the windows. The banging eventually stops, and so I pack and dress - trainers and all - in case I have to make a run for it. Perhaps it might seem that I am over-reacting, but at that moment, sitting in that dingy little room, it dawns on that I am completely alone, in a strange city and withv nowhere to turn for help. All I have is a smll pocket knife and some acetone; it's hardly decent defence.
At 6am, i wake from a light sleep, and linger around the hotel room until the sun comes up, and until I feel confident enough to open the door and get out of there as quickly as possible. Luckily, there is no-one around when I leae the room, and I practically sprint down the 2 flights of stairs to the exit....which just so happes to be padlocked.
FUCKING NIGHTMARE.
The manager is passed out on the floor, so I have to wake him to let me out. Of course, he gets his cock out and stands, unlocking the door slowly, while I am desperate to leave. Now, I'm no stranger to opportunistic masturbators/perverts/deviants (see previous blog posts!), but this situation is the first where I've really felt genuinely harassed and threatened. I manage to leave okay, and arrive to the train station in plenty of time. Although I'm always fairly careful, this has been a bit of a reality check for me. I'm definitely not in Kansas any more...
So onwards it is to Hampi in Karnataka. I'm putting ths little hiccup behind me, and out of my mind.
See you soon Goa - I'll be back to cleanse my chakras and awaken my third eye in no time at all... :-)
Getting Around: The closest railway station is Pernem. Dont bother taking a taxi, instead walk out of the station to the end of the dirt road, and wait for a bus. They are pretty frequent and only cost Rs 15. In Arambol, just about everyone hires scooters or motorbikes. From around Rs 200 per day, they are a bargain. Goa is a decent place to try out riding scooters if you've never done it before.
Where to Stay: I stayed at Cock's Town, half way along the beach. 300-400 rupees per night for a beachside hut with shared bathrooms. The beach front accommodations are a little noisy as they all compete with each other musically, so it can be a bit of a relentless headfuck. But there are literally hundreds of similar standad places set in the little roads connecting the beach to the main market street, or along the cliffside at the far right of the beach. Just look around! Everywhere now offers wi-fi too.
Where to Eat: Beachside eating is expensive - mostly catering to the rich Russian crowd (things like shark on the menu etc), so it's worth walking to the main street to find a smaller, more local restuarant. There are plenty to choose from. There are a few little street cafes offering veg thalis for Rs 50. Although a little pricey by Indian standards, Once in Nature organic cafe, tucked away down a little land on the market street, is brilliant. The food is ridiculously healthy and delicious, and the ambience is just perfect. Main courses from about Rs120. Umbrella Cafe is also a lovely little upstairs chill-out spot, albeit almost exclusively Russian.
Drinking: Same as eating - the closer to the beach, the higher the price (generally). Some places offer 2-for-1 happy hours though. A small bottle of Kingfisher will set you back about Rs50- Rs80 in a bar, or Rs30 in a shop.
What to do: Aside from lying on the beach, drinking Kingfisher, and taking in the amazing sunsets? Arambol has smething for everyone. There are posters EVERYWHERE advertising classes and services in just about everything. Get some recommendations when you arrive, as the sheer volume of things available can be overwhelming.
Other: It's COLD at night, seriously! I dont remember this from the last time in Goa, but it really is chilly! I slept fully clothed with 2 blankets and still woke up cold. Bring a blanket, or buy one at the marketl
I arrive mid afternoon, having taken to local bus from Pernem (the closest rail head) to the bus stand in Arambol, about a 10 minute walk from the beach. As luck would have it, I get chatting to an Irish guy outside the bank, who tells me about some uber-cheap beach huts tht he's staying in - and even better, he gives me a (white-knuckle) ride on the back of his Royal Enfield, straight to the door. Perfect! At between 300 - 400 rupees per night for a beach side hut (shared bathrooms), Cock's Town (yes, this was really the name of the place), is on prime beachfront property. Ok, so the bamboo shacks don't look like they would withstand even a slight wind, but the I can't argue with the location, or the price.
Arambol is a strange little place in many ways - whilst being unbelievably chilled out, there are constant mutterings that it is almost entirely controlled by the Russian Mafia. This is evident pretty much instantly - the whole town has a huge Russian population, and many of the signs, posters, restaurants and bars advertise exclusively in Russian. From movie nights to borscht on the menu, the Russians really have Arambol monopolised, closely follwed by the Israeli contingent, who wander around looking effortlessly attractive all the time. Whether that's your cup of tea or not, it doesnt matter, because Arambol really is a place where anything goes. Whatever 'scene' you are in to, Arambol has it. (But it helps if you smoke weed all the time, are surgically attached to a ukelele and have dreadlocks...)
As soon as I arrive, I ditch my bag, shower and head out to explore, with the primary intention of finding a yoga class. After about an hour (and several jewellery-stall distractions....), I bump in to Alpesh, a local yoga teacher and healer. He talks a good talk, and has a very spacious (if ramshackle!) studio, so I decide to give his classes a try, starting first thing the following morning. Happy that Ive joined a class, the rest of my day is dedicated to Kingfisher and joints with the 2 German boys in the hut next door. The smell of ganga is EVERYWHERE in Arambol, like a pleasant hippy pot-pourri. Certainly makes a welcome change from the noxious Mumbai air...
The next day i arrive to my yoga class, full of the joys and ready for what I though would be a gentle reitorduction to yoga after a few months off. I was very much mistaken! Alpesh is a taskmaster, pushing me to the limits of my physical capabilities at times, and by the time my first class is over I pretty much collpase on the beach, aching. Luckily the classes don't seem as challenging as my practice increases, and I begin to learn that (although a little unconventional), Alpesh isn't the yoga-Nazi I intitally imagined (although he did threaten to hit me with a bamboo stick yesterday...). He's friendly, encouraging and his classes are small, so sometimes the lessons are one-on-one. For Rs 300 for a 2 hours session, there's no complaints here!
The rest of my days in Arambol are spent walking on the beach (i think one of the nicest ones in Goa - very spacious and only a few cows), perusing the market (fairly generic tat, reserved for those that want to "buy" being a pseudo-hippy), drinking chai/kingfisher/fresh mango juice, reading, chatting and joints with the Germans and occassionally dodging slighty clingy Indian men who seem to latch on to me. Nonetheless, everyone is smiling here (aside from a few stern looking Russians). Everyone and everything is shanti shanti. The restaurant staff - mostly young guys who have come from the far North of India or Nepal to work for the busy season - think they have struck gold. A job, by the beach? Perfect!
As a small aside: I find it strange - almost a little desperate/sad - there are market stalls where people can go to get thier hair dreadlocked. Don't get me wrong, I love a good dreadlock, but to actively seek out a place to fast-track the hair-matting process...? Hmmm. A little contradictory to the laissez-faire appraoch taken by the people who have taken years to cultivate such a gnarly do. Goa: just another mall piece of India where westerners can come to live out their bohemian dreams...
4 days is barely enough time to enjoy all that Arambol has to offer, but can certainly see myself returning for a few weeks, perhaps before the end of my trip. But if I don't leave now I will almost definitely get stuck there...which doesnt sound like a bad thing actually! Although given that it's fast approaching Christmas and New Year, Goa is about to hit FULL POWER, so perhaps this is the perfect time to escape the chaos!
I take a few local buses from Arambol, eventually to Margao, where i have a train to Karnataka in the morning. There's very little ofinterest in Margao, and is a just stopping off point for most people making connections elsewhere. Its late afternon by the time I arrive, and assisted by a couple of friendly Indian guys that I meet on the bus, I find a cheap hotel for the night (Hotel Annapurna - AVOID AT ALL COSTS). It's a bit rough and ready, but I dont think too much of it - Ive stayed in far worse places. Around 11, i finish reading and turn the lights out for the night. It's hot, and the noise of dogs fighting and howling in the alleyway makes me restless, butI drift off nontheless. Then, around 12.45am, there is a loud knock on the door followed by silence.
I sit bolt upright in bed, but dont move a muscle. At increasing frequency for th next 2 hours, an unidentified man (most probably the hotel manager) continues to bang and pound at my door, occasionally shouting "Madam, open this door; Let me in".
To say I am terrified is an understatement. The door is bolted from the inside, so I'm sure that he can't get in, but nonetheless I sit awake on the bed until morning, shaking and wondering what business anyone - manager or otherwise - could have to come to my door so late. There's no fucking way I'm answering the door, of this I am sure.
Naturally, my mind is in overdrive - what if he gets in? What then? It's pitch black, I have no phone, I'm two storeys up and there are bars on the windows. The banging eventually stops, and so I pack and dress - trainers and all - in case I have to make a run for it. Perhaps it might seem that I am over-reacting, but at that moment, sitting in that dingy little room, it dawns on that I am completely alone, in a strange city and withv nowhere to turn for help. All I have is a smll pocket knife and some acetone; it's hardly decent defence.
At 6am, i wake from a light sleep, and linger around the hotel room until the sun comes up, and until I feel confident enough to open the door and get out of there as quickly as possible. Luckily, there is no-one around when I leae the room, and I practically sprint down the 2 flights of stairs to the exit....which just so happes to be padlocked.
FUCKING NIGHTMARE.
The manager is passed out on the floor, so I have to wake him to let me out. Of course, he gets his cock out and stands, unlocking the door slowly, while I am desperate to leave. Now, I'm no stranger to opportunistic masturbators/perverts/deviants (see previous blog posts!), but this situation is the first where I've really felt genuinely harassed and threatened. I manage to leave okay, and arrive to the train station in plenty of time. Although I'm always fairly careful, this has been a bit of a reality check for me. I'm definitely not in Kansas any more...
So onwards it is to Hampi in Karnataka. I'm putting ths little hiccup behind me, and out of my mind.
See you soon Goa - I'll be back to cleanse my chakras and awaken my third eye in no time at all... :-)
Getting Around: The closest railway station is Pernem. Dont bother taking a taxi, instead walk out of the station to the end of the dirt road, and wait for a bus. They are pretty frequent and only cost Rs 15. In Arambol, just about everyone hires scooters or motorbikes. From around Rs 200 per day, they are a bargain. Goa is a decent place to try out riding scooters if you've never done it before.
Where to Stay: I stayed at Cock's Town, half way along the beach. 300-400 rupees per night for a beachside hut with shared bathrooms. The beach front accommodations are a little noisy as they all compete with each other musically, so it can be a bit of a relentless headfuck. But there are literally hundreds of similar standad places set in the little roads connecting the beach to the main market street, or along the cliffside at the far right of the beach. Just look around! Everywhere now offers wi-fi too.
Where to Eat: Beachside eating is expensive - mostly catering to the rich Russian crowd (things like shark on the menu etc), so it's worth walking to the main street to find a smaller, more local restuarant. There are plenty to choose from. There are a few little street cafes offering veg thalis for Rs 50. Although a little pricey by Indian standards, Once in Nature organic cafe, tucked away down a little land on the market street, is brilliant. The food is ridiculously healthy and delicious, and the ambience is just perfect. Main courses from about Rs120. Umbrella Cafe is also a lovely little upstairs chill-out spot, albeit almost exclusively Russian.
Drinking: Same as eating - the closer to the beach, the higher the price (generally). Some places offer 2-for-1 happy hours though. A small bottle of Kingfisher will set you back about Rs50- Rs80 in a bar, or Rs30 in a shop.
What to do: Aside from lying on the beach, drinking Kingfisher, and taking in the amazing sunsets? Arambol has smething for everyone. There are posters EVERYWHERE advertising classes and services in just about everything. Get some recommendations when you arrive, as the sheer volume of things available can be overwhelming.
Other: It's COLD at night, seriously! I dont remember this from the last time in Goa, but it really is chilly! I slept fully clothed with 2 blankets and still woke up cold. Bring a blanket, or buy one at the marketl
Nice to read your blog, thanks for sharing
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