Don't worry be Hampi

They may take away our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!
Our month in Mandrem is finally up, moving onwards and upwards, literally, first we are heading east then north. It's nice to be moving on, it gives you a sense of freedom that you rarely get at home.

The bus journey from Mapusa (near Mandrem) to Hampi was manageable this time round. I think mainly because the bus could only reach a top speed of roughly 40 mph. Going up hill was a real issue for it and any slower I think we would of had to get off and push the old thing. I could breathe easy and get a bit of sleep, however Allison was constantly awoken by the lights that would be illuminated when stopping for passengers and toilet stops. I use the term toilet lightly, basically to piss by the roadside. Fine for me but more of a challenge for the women, namely Allison.
We've come to the conclusion that the semi sleeper buses are better than their sleeper bus cousins as you are more stable and rolling from side to side is non existent.

We arrived at Mowgli guest house and got settled in. "Do you have a safe where we can leave our passports" I enquired, the receptionist started gesticulating with his fingers , motioning like he was on a keyboard, "you can do it online" he responded. Erm, I think something may have been lost in translation. "Thank you" I said, Looks like I'll be carrying our important stuff then, I thought.

After settling in we headed out as we only had a couple of full days here to see as much as possible. We got the little motorboat across the river to the south side, its costs 10 rupees each and they stack as many people in it as possible.

As many people and a motorbike too

 An elephant bathing in the river as we cross

To save some time we hired a tuk tuk to take us on a whistle stop tour of Hampi's famous architecture. Like the bus the tuk tuk was pretty old and had seen much better days. At least on the bus I didn't have to get off and push. "Get out" said Ravi as the rickshaw came to a standstill going up a hill. I got out and assisted the machine up the hill. "Get in", I got in and we were away.

The old Elephant stables

One of the old statues looked remarkably like Allison

The architecture of the buildings and temples here is magnificent, even so you can get templed out by the end of the tour, temple after temple, building after building. I think it was probably more to do with the beating midday sun and dehydration that made us want to just relax and chill out with a cold drink.
The only thing is, relaxing with a drink is almost impossible here, firstly the only alcohol available is kingfisher beer, which I'm not to keen on because of the added ingredient glycerin. The other difficulty with relaxing with food or drink, is simply the flies! Loads of the little buggers, you have to be constantly on your guard as they keep landing on you, your plate, your glass, everything.

I lift my cup of chai for one second and the buggers start landing

The landscape of Hampi is like nothing I've ever seen, the sheer number of the granite rocks is immense. The majority are broken into huge boulders piled up on top of each other. In mythology they say that the boulders were thrown at each other by two princely monkey brothers at war, and they just kept on throwing, and the rocks kept on stacking. Who am I to argue with that. Geologists have a different theory but who in their right mind would believe them?

On our second day we hired a scooter and headed out on the north side of the river. We took in more of the amazing rock formations, many that look like they are defying gravity by teetering on the edge of other boulders.

On our journey we bumped into these two kung fu fighting individuals

From our daytime geological activities we were knackered. After sharing lunch with the flies we debated whether to watch the sunset from Anjanadri hill or just chill with a bottle of the only alcohol that was available. Luckily we chose the former, taking off on the scooter we headed for the 600 steps that make there way up the hill (which is more of a cliff really). On ascending we kept meeting different Indian families either going up or coming down, "hi, hi" the children would say very excitedly.

 One boy who was also making his way up decided to leave his family for dust and challenge me to a race to the summit, Obviously he was only young so I let him take off and reach the top first. Of course I didn't let the young pretender do that, giving him just enough lead to instill confidence in him, I reeled him in like a fish.

The young pretender, he had to wait for his family to catch up, lucky for me.

At the top we were met by monkeys, some braver than others.

Our last few hours in Hampi were over on the south side of the river. We were ready for some more temples and as we had missed one out on our tuk tuk trip we decided to see it before we left. 

The highlight was getting blessed by an elephant.

Elephant showing me some love

Look who we bumped into

They said they didn't want any money, but then guess what, like everyone including us, they did.

If Goa is Russian, Hampi is decidedly Israeli, let's see what Varanasi has in store for us.  

Mandrem surprise

Afro and Latin dance workout it said on the flyer. Yep, I'm up for some of that, I've got rhythm and some moves, no problem. 

Me and Allison went down to beach street so we could partake in the free initial dance class. The instructor was a camp guy who hailed from Bromley. The Latin beats begun along with his movement and step instructions. What was this? My left and right feet became two left feet! My hips could not move freely like the teacher, they were stiff and lethargic. To top it off I'd positioned myself at the front of the group thinking I was John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Thoughts of my poor departed old man kept entering my head. Bob (my dad) had no rhythm, he had no moves, he was that embarrassing man at the wedding party who would dance to a totally different tune. Like father like son. A cross ward glance at Allison, mistake! I still hadn't learnt not to look to wifey for solace at my own shitness.

She's got the moves!

                                           The view from our Afro, Latin dance workout

Keeping secrets isn't easy for me and when Jade mentioned that not only her and Roni were coming out to Goa but also Allison's sister Fiona and niece Laurene, I had a mammoth task ahead of me. Keep the fact that Fiona and Laurene were also coming a secret, keep this secret for three weeks. Not having anyone else to talk to apart from your wife, letting slip was only going to become more tempting. I wanted to sing it from the rooftops. "You know your sister and niece are also coming!!". But I surprisingly remained steadfast in my tight lippedness.

Surprise surprise, when the unexpected hits you between the eyes. We waited patiently for the imminent arrival of Roni, Jade and secret arrival of Fiona and Laurene. I had my camera in one hand and mobile to video the arrival in the other. "Oh my God, Oh my God", this became Allison's new chant as the two stowaway's stepped out of the taxi. Her surprise carried on through the evening as she was still in disbelief of the other two's sneaky presence.

The Arrival. 

"I'm going to get a taxi back" I informed Allison as I tagged along whilst they all looked round Arambol market. Looking round shops at knick knacks with five women who stop at each individual store to peruse the items on sale is probably the furthest away from what I would class as having a good time. But women absolutely love it? Give me a nice chair, cold beer and a DVD, ahh and bliss! Talking about bliss, I left them and wandered off up the road. He was walking towards me with two women. They turned down a dark alleyway, I followed, keeping my distance. I felt like I was a private detective. I needed a photo, how could I approach him without seeming crazy? I've got it! I walked passed him, stopped by the light at the bottom of the alleyway and pretended to be on a phone call, as he got close... "I recognise you, you were at Amma's Ashram?" I said, "yes, I was there" he replied. I told him I had seen others in Arambol who had also been at Amma's, the hugging mothers Ashram. "Can I take your photo as I'm taking photos of people who I cross paths with on my journey", "yes, no problem". "What's your name?" I enquired, "Mariano" he responded. Was I coming on to him? Was his presence too much for this heterosexual, firefighting male? No! I was just overly excited about seeing him again.

Thanks, see ya Mariano.

He was a nice guy, smile and all. I then wandered off, not angry, not pissed off, more ecstatic that I'd actually seen him again and wasn't going mad by imagining his presence.

Mariano, still in bliss

It's funny, people assume that when you come to India you get Delhi belly. That was correct for me, regurgitation in full effect! But a guy on the Yoga course Allison is assisting on experienced the polar opposite to this. No Delhi belly, just constipation for eight days. Mild relief came on the eighth day. The use of glycerin suppositories, two hard core bottles of laxatives, olive oil and other methods to coax out his poop all failed. A brown rice diet that would normally create some solid stools created no stools at all. I told him to go back on a diet of beer and burgers, perhaps that will entice a more regular pattern. 

The drum circle in Arambol is a nightly ritual where an influx of hippified characters descend onto the beach at sunset to drink, smoke dance enhancing weed and generally groove to the beat of the drum. When in Rome, we descended, we danced, rocking some serious shapes on the sandy dancefloor, I did have riddim, as the tribal beats took over me. Jade and Roni decided to share their new groove with a circle of dancing Indian men, that is until and unwanted advancement made them both make a hasty exit.

     Roni & Jade before hasty exit

In the groove

We spent the whole of Thursday on a family outing to the Basilica of Bom Jesus in Old Goa , a spice farm plantation and Mangeshi Hindu temple.

On arriving at the Old Goan church we were met by Davinder, a licenced guide of the historic site. "Would you like a geedeh?" he asked, It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what he said, "I don't know, do we want a geedeh?" copying his pronunciation I asked the others. The fee of 100 rupees (roughly a pound) was well spent. He would always follow  the telling of some interesting information by saying "okay, okay, come, come" and then herding us to the next fascinating display. "Ok, ok, come, come", I utter as we continue on our tour of the church. Repeats of his habitual ok's and come's followed by my foolish imitations were met by giggles from the ladies.

       Davinder and crew

The mortal remains of St Francis Xavier who's body is still visible in the church. There is minimal amounts of decay considering he died in 1552. Every 10 years they have a public viewing of his body where millions of Christian devotees flock from all over the world. The last time this happened was 2014.

The spice plantation was next up on the itinerary which was surprisingly more enjoyable than we had expected. A banana spider in its huge web was an added bonus. An overpriced Elephant ride was still worth it just to say you'd done it. Enjoyment was had by all, although Fiona held down the fact that she was crapping herself whilst on the huge beast rather well with her nervous smile.  

I've done it!

Laurene and a scared Fiona holding it down well

The last stop on the tour was Mangeshi temple, a nice pit stop to rest our weary feet but not a must see if your ever in North Goa. A so called Hindu priest approached us, led us to a secluded spot and gave us a spot of fortune telling. I will be getting on with Allison from February 21st he pronounced, I'm actually quite looking forward to that date now. Jade will be getting married in May or June, Roni's marital status will change in July, she's single at the moment so she's got a busy few months ahead. Fiona will be promoted in March, a new home in July. Laurene's writing will be good in April and gain a suitable partner also in July. Allison will be getting a promotion in September even though she's off work till January 2016. His hand was then held out for a tip for his very in depth fortune telling. See ya! We all turned away and scurried off.

It was only a matter of time before we saw it. On the way home a big gathering of people surrounded something in the road. As we got closer the picture became clear. A local  had come off his scooter, he was dead, that was plain to see. The ambulance pulled up as we drove passed.

I can't get over the disregard Indians seem to have for their own safety and well being. I think the west has gone a bit too far with health and safety but the reverse is happening here. They go in the sea here even though they can't swim, apparently a couple of people died last week as the tide just carried them out even though the tide isn't that strong. The lifeguards constantly blow their whistles at the Indians to call them closer into the shore. I think I'd give the ocean a miss if I couldn't swim.  

Our final event of the day was dining in the glorious 'cafe nu' in Mandrem, which is now my favourite restaurant in the whole wide world. It's obligatory to eat there if you are ever in this neck of the woods. 

  Cheers, the fabulous cafe nu

Peppered tuna steak, one of the many dishes we sampled

I officially fell out with our landlord the other day. The Goa day trip that cost us 2000 rupees with Keshav (roughly 20 pounds), Sudhir wanted to charge us 6000, three times the amount. I made it known that I wasn't happy about him trying to rip us off. He took umbrage in me telling him this. In the end he shouted "enough" as I kept repeating that 6000 is way too much to be trying to charge people who have been giving him good business. Which it is, if you are ever here and a taxi driver shows you an unofficial laminated bit of paper with prices on it, it means shit. Haggle the price down before you start your journey. The way Sudhir is is not how everyone is out here, the majority of the Indians I've come into personal contact with are honest people.

Snake in the grass   

The quest to befriend a Russian was rather simple in the end. In fact we had to keep trying not to become friends with our neighbour. A Russian guy who towards the end of our stay here was trying to insist that we party with him and his friend. Even to the point of pulling us into their apartment and forcing us to dance. We managed to make a quick getaway and leave the two high Ruskky's to continue their party as a duo.

The day we left, Paul our Russian neighbour informed me of his disappointment in me, remarking in his broken English "no drink, no drugs, no nothing" 

Paul couldn't hide his disappointment

The others have flown home and we are now off to Hampi by night bus! Whoopi!

     

  

Mandrem continued

I have been lucky enough to be allowed to practice in the mornings with the yoga course Allison is assisting on. Yoga at 06:30am for 2 and half hours, followed by an hour of breathing exercises and meditation. Your overall goal in yoga is to attain enlightenment and the answers are not found outside yourself, the answers come from within grasshopper.
My yoga practising frustrations have remained with me but I'm working on them. The other day a balancing posture that would normally create anger, frustration and a spoken under my breath swear word when fallen out of, remarkably caused an inward laugh instead. I may be getting slightly ahead of myself here as this happy, calm and forgiving way of practising yoga has only happened occasionally. The rest of the time I'm mentally beating myself up.
Am I getting better? I don't know, it's hard to tell with yoga. One day I feel I have energy and more flexibility, the next I feel tight and lethargic.
When we're doing Yoga (Asana) practice I occasionally look across to Allison to get some partial solace that maybe I'm not the only one going through a mental and physical struggle, but it just upsets me even more as she's doing some crazy shit with a pleasant facial expression. Note to self, don't look at wifey when practising Yoga.

Last Friday we did an Osho meditation (he was an Indian Guru). It was a moving meditation with specific movements conducted to specific music. Your right hand is held palm up by your sternum, your left is held palm up at your naval. Step your right foot forward and at the same time slice your hand through the air with a spear like lunging motion whilst verbally making a swooshing sound. Then draw your left palm up drawing up energy swapping places with the right and step your left foot forward, swoooosh. Step sideways right, swoosh, sideways left, swoosh,  diagonally right, swoosh, diagonally left, swoosh. Then back to the beginning. Repeat, repeat, rpt, rpt, swoosh, swoosh. This form of meditation was new to me, but it was good. My energy was there at the beginning, for some reason I was a ninja lunging through the air with weapon in hand. Then my energy dissipated and I became less of a ninja and more of a feeble sloth, I had to concentrate hard to bring that initial energy back to the meditation.

Osho

We buy 20 litre water bottles here, by my excellent mathematical brain I'd hazard a guess that's roughly 20kg (no big deal for this man). I carry it up the stairs and proceed to do some deep squat presses, "be careful" says Allison. Don't you know who I am, this is nothing to me, I think whilst sitting into the squat deeper and faster. Whoa whats that? As soon as I had that egotistical thought my back twinges. Since then I've decided I'm not doing any other form of exercise till I'm happy that my core strength and flexibility have significantly improved. Luckily since then no major issue has arisen.

When you are travelling around a country, you will inevitably bump into people you've met along the way. Allison bumped into Anita, a woman she had first met at Ammas Ashram, she saw her in Atman, an Italian restaurant come beach hut resort in Arambol.
My inevitable bump was more of a surreal nudge. I was walking along the beach, minding my own business without a care in the world. And then I saw him, my doppelganger also from Ammas Ashram. Not all dressed in white now, just plain black shorts on. A part time devotee, I thought, a devotee that walks the walk for a brief moment then reverts back to just being a simple traveller like the rest of us. Although he still had a smile on his face which I didn't mind as much this time round, probably because he didn't look in total bliss and it was more of a natural expression. I wasn't quick enough on the draw to get proof with my camera, I was too in awe of his presence and fumbled at my bag too slowly. He was gone as quick as he arrived, was it him? I need to hunt him down and get evidence of the second coming. Me and Allison both thought we saw him again a few days later, but alas he was going too fast on a scooter to be sure.

A previous photo at Ammas.

The Health and safety at work act does not exist in India, or at least I don't think so. I think they may have rewritten theirs as the hazardous and risk taking at work law. Flip flops, no hard hats and wooden scaffold without guard rails make it easier for potential accidents to happen. On top of the roof they work, hauling stuff aloft with little to no preventative safety measures in place. We heard a big bang the other day and I naturally thought a builder had just fallen braking their neck, what a pleasant surprise when we discovered it was just some building materials.

Not long after I took this photo we heard a thud.

One step backwards and he's a gonner!

Working on an electric pylon, just balancing, no harness, other things look a bit suspect too!

Mandrem

"Do you want to ride the scooter back?" I asked Allison, "yes ok, I may as well". How was I to know that she was lacking in confidence and her previous scooter riding days had abandoned her memory , perhaps she could have told me? I gave her the basic starting up of the vehicle instructions and thought that would be enough. "Keep your hand on the brake, give a little bit of acceleration and press the ignition in", "how do I stop, how do I stop" she says as the bike jolts forward, "use the brakes!" I shout. The bike falls from underneath her and lands on the floor but she remains miraculously on her feet.

I'm more worried about the bike than her which obviously doesn't go down too well, but I can see she is okay and not in any pain. Its not like Agonda here, I had to leave £100 deposit, a copy of my passport and pay for ten days rental in advance. Any damage and I'd have to pay, that is why the scooter took the majority of my attention. "Are you okay" I belatedly ask, no response was forthcoming.
People ride like lunatics here, they speed passed on their scooters and Royal Enfield motorbikes without a care in the world. Shorts, flip flops and without helmets is the bike riding fashion. If you crash you'll feel it.

I wear no protective clothing like I would back home, I take partial solace in the fact that I ride slowly and more safely than the others on these roads. As for the other westerners they try to ride like the Indians but inevitably more often than not come a cropper to their inexperienced sometimes drunken riding skills.

I miss Agonda, it was more chilled and the people seemed nicer down south. Here in Mandrem and especially Arambol people don't seem as honest, I feel like I'm trying to second guess them all the time, do they have an ulterior motive? what is his play? But perhaps its just me and I need to chill out.

I've come to the conclusion that westerners are weak when it comes to our immune systems. I've had a cough more or less since being here, my cold had finally gone after about a month and a sore throat that we both had until we decided on using bottled water to brush our teeth with instead of using tap water. Not only that but the other night whilst in bed I suddenly became nauseous, I dragged myself out of bed and stood over the toilet, hands strategically placed on the cistern, then toilet seat, then slightly above my knees. Nothing came, so I sat down in a chair in the lounge awaiting the inevitable. Back in bed I went, back to the toilet, back in the chair, this continued and it wasn't till the fourth cycle that I found out that the best position to put my hands in was on the toilet seat. I made a sound like a lion as I heaved up the contents of my stomach, "raarrrggghhhh". It felt like my stomach lining and throat were being ripped apart. I then managed to breathe with the heave, so as the contents came up, I exhaled, again I used this method, heave, exhale. It made the throwing up a more bearable experience.

My Delhi belly lasted a night and day, it cleaned out my insides from both ends and then luckily departed as quickly as it came. I finally felt cleansed and able to kickstart my Yoga training in Arambol.
Basically the Indians have stomachs made of steel and must have very strong immune systems. Their insides must have bacteria fighting warriors that crush all comers. Although I'd like to see how they'd get by on a western diet.

I ate a snickers the other day and it was like I had died and gone to heaven. My first chocolate bar since leaving home and it was well worth the wait. Absolutely scrumptious.

We both seem to be settling in more to the way of life here. I was a bit sceptical about spending a whole month here when we first arrived but I think that was just based on our first impressions and accommodation finding experiences. We landed on our feet with this apartment. One thousand rupees a night for a two bedroom apartment with hot water and a washing machine, Get in there!

We were paying exactly the same for the shit shack. I have now paid the whole months money to the owner Sudhir in advance and am still waiting for him to kick us out and replace us with higher paying Russky's but it hasn't happened yet so I think he'll have to put up with us.

                                            Will he or won't he kick us out?
The rest of the apartments in the block are frequented by Russians. There are so many of them here in north Goa, about 80% of the tourists are Russians. I've given me and Allison a task to befriend some before we leave as they all seem so stony faced and unapproachable. Neither of us has had any luck yet, I'll keep you posted.

                                              Everything written in Russian
Apparently the Russians started coming here in the 1990's a bit further down the coast in Morjim. The Russian Mafia bought up a lot of the properties in Morjim and their fellow compatriots started to go on holiday there. They have slowly been moving further up and down the coast and are now the dominant nation in Goa.

At the course Allison is assisting on, there is a meditation course running simultaneously. The only thing is, this isn't a normal kind of meditation. It is an extremely loud and scary kind of meditation, like something I've never heard of, and apparently like good Russians that they are, all this loud meditation takes place at 05:30 in the morning. Fuck everyone else who's sleeping we are gonna scream and shout and make noise like we are murdering someone or being murdered by someone. I haven't witnessed this early morning ritual myself as luckily we decided not to stay there but I did experience a recording of said ritual as another female assistant on the course decided to record it on her phone. If only I could download it to the blog, because if you heard it, you would assume some heavy shit was going down.

Allison is in constant war with the mosquitoes here. Come six o clock in the evening they come out in force for an hour and a half. They buzz around her like a cloud of dirt following pigpen (the peanuts character in Snoopy).

 

We've tried four different types of repellent (two sprays, one cream and one oil) but she must just taste too sweet for them annoying insects. You can almost see them putting on napkins whenever she's about. At least rose water seems to lessen the itch a little bit.

The start of a New Year

NYE in Agonda was a very good experience. We spent the evening with our new friends Andreas and Monica. A German couple who seem to have found the correct balance in life. When they are not at work their spare time is spent travelling the earth and experiencing different countries and cultures. I don't think there are many places they haven't visited. With the great company, fireworks, bonfire, live band, the only let down was the food which turned up cold. By the time it finally did turn up we weren't that hungry anyway as the booze had flowed consistently.
Out of the three Japanese fire lanterns we bought and set off at midnight only one had a successful voyage. I blamed the make of lantern as the two that didn't rise to the occasion were a different brand to the one that took off and ascended to the heavens. Not my fault this time round as I tended to each individual lantern with precision before igniting the fuse.

Walking back along the beach towards Fatimas we stopped at the fenced off turtle hatching area. They were meant to hatch either last night or tonight. Last night we waited till midnight to witness the birth of numerous turtles but felt to exhausted so retired to bed. This night we walked by at 1am, people were waiting but still no sign of the little rascals so off we went to bed. Apparently they hatched at 3am whilst we were fast asleep and I probably had the drunken snores.

After many haggling sessions and price ranges from 2000 rupees to 6500 rupees we managed to acquire a taxi to take us the 3 hour journey from Agonda to Arambol via Morjim beach to drop of our Norwegian friend Chade (pronounced Sade, like the singer). We settled on a 2300 rupee fee as the original 2000 rupee price was swiftly taken away after our phone call to confirm the booking, we agreed to the price hike as no one else had come close to that price, fingers crossed he'll actually turn up.

Eventually we found our accommodation in Arambol after taking a detour as a local sent us in the wrong direction. The hut that Allison had booked was not quite what we had expected. Very basic, the double bed looked just a little bit bigger than a single bed, it had seen better days, or maybe it had never seen a good day in its existence. Silence befell us both as we wandered round the site of our booked accommodation. Allison informed the manager of wanting a hut by the beach, these huts were a fair distance away and hopefully the ones by the beach were more airy and inviting. A 15 minute walk down the dusty road to some huts on the sand that were to the same high standard as its cousin way back up the dirt track. We could tell we weren't going to be happy spending a month in a hut like that. It was dark, dingy and not somewhere where you could relax in.
The race was on to find alternative accommodation, we had a couple of hours before it got dark, two huge bags of luggage and 3 smaller bags. We headed to Atman, a local haunt of Allison's when she was here a couple of years ago doing her yoga teacher training. It was there that she carried out her daily ritual of having her caffeine fix at breakfast time to keep her mind focused for the next yoga session. Allison remained with our bags as I hunted for a hut that we could stay in for a night or two, just till we could find more permanent lodgings. I found a hut not far from Atman, we put our large packs on our backs, small packs on our chest and headed towards the Zen huts. A diversion was taken to check out a room in a guesthouse but the price seemed to be grossly inflated. When they see tourists coming looking desperate and weighed down with heavy luggage, prices seem to sky rocket. Heads down we marched onwards mumbling about the inflated price. Our walk then took another sidewards step as a man told us he had a beach hut sat right on the beach for 700 rupees (7 pounds) a night. Like pack horses we trudged along the sand to be shown this rickety shack facing the beautiful ocean. Answer "no". We were now a fair distance from Zen huts and these donkeys had seen better days so we stopped off at the next section of huts on the beach that looked more inviting. They were painted bright colours and after looking inside looked relatively clean compared to the previous rooms we had looked at.

"We'll take it, but not for 1500 rupees, we'll pay 1000 a night for two nights" I said, "Okay, as long as you stay two nights", was his response. We dropped off our belongings, I pulled down the mosquito net and a cascade of dried mouse droppings fell onto the floor and bed! It was too dark to continue our search that night so we sat down in the beach restaurant where we could get a wifi connection whilst our room was cleaned. We looked for apartments and rooms online but came up with nothing. The next days plan was to search high and low till we came up with suitable accommodation for our month long stay.
We walked along the beach to Arambol town to get out of our lovely beach hut. The local shops sell things from clothes to dried herbs and spices. "Come in, take a look" the shopkeepers chant. Tiredness took hold of us and we led ourselves back to our hut overlooking the Arabian sea. My wind up rechargeable torch was used to help with deviating around the mess that was left on the beach from new years eve celebrations, the beautiful beach had sadly descended into a rubbish dump of glass bottles and plastic bags.
"Greetings" said the mouse and rat poo as we re-entered our hut. It was spread throughout the room. Even the sink and my pillow had droppings on, even a dropping on the toilet seat, it had missed the hole by a solitary centimetre. I think they must have had a poo party as soon as we went out. This was the first time I had used the rubber gloves I had bought from home, I cleaned up the mess with the toilet roll we luckily had on us. One night was enough in this shit hole, excuse the pun, but it was! Covering ourselves from head to toe with our sheet sleeping bags we laid down on the bed and hoped for sleep but funnily enough none was forthcoming.

Morning couldn't come soon enough, finally the sun rose, we left the hut with our things inside and our second hunt for accommodation in less that 24 hours began. The plan- Find suitable accommodation for the month, get back to the shitty hut and check out before midday, we had 3 hours and a suitable amount of determination to rise to this challenge. At 11am we found an apartment a bit further south along the coast in Mandrem that was clean, tidy and where we both felt we could spend the month comfortably without getting shat on in the middle of the night. All we had to do now was to check out of the shit hole and get our belongings back to Pushpa in Mandrem. The donkeys of yesterday were gone and the thoroughbred race horses were here. Loaded up and off we galloped along the sand, no need for a carrot to be dangled in front of our mouths! Bags put down, the final negotiated price agreed with the owner Sudhir, we could now just chill. The weight had been lifted from our shoulders and our month long stay here whilst Allison assists on a yoga course was taking a more positive shape.

The next day after returning to the apartment I was met by Sudhir and a Russian couple. He wanted to show them around the apartment? WTF. "What's going on" I enquired, "they are looking for a place to stay, when are you moving out, the 25th?" he replied. "No, the 1st of February!" I said. The couple then took their leave as me and Sudhir discussed the length of our stay. He must have got his wires crossed as we wanted him to pick up my step-daughter Jade and cousin Roni from the airport the morning of the 25th and probably thought we were leaving that day. Either that or he got a better offer from the Russians. Maybe he'll turf us out soon, who knows as we're in India and anything can happen.

Allison has begun her month long assistance on the yoga teacher training course. As for me I have plenty of time to sit and contemplate things. My plan is to wake up early and take Allison to yoga by 06:30, either join in the class and improve my flexibility or take a run along the sand listening to the relaxing sounds of the ocean.

I could run for miles and miles along this sandy beach, it won't break me! (I hope).

On our way back from a scooter ride to Kerri beach we saw this amazing Banyan tree, a pine tree and another tree were entwined in its strange root like branches.

An honest shopkeeper who sold us a bed sheet for £3. Allison got lost in the excitement of haggling and haggled the price down even lower to £2.50 but I felt sorry for him and his family and we agreed on the slightly higher price.

I post this on the 1st anniversary of my mother-in-law Mavis's passing, who knows she could be close by as if we believe in reincarnation like the Indians she could be here too. "I'll talk ta ya".

          

Christmas in Agonda

Our seabird overnight sleeper bus journey from Mysore to Canacona started off rather pleasantly. On the exterior the bus itself looked a tad rundown but on the interior me and Allison had ourselves a nice double bed where we thought we would be able to just chill and relax for our ten hour journey.

But chilling and relaxing wasn't on the agenda. The bus basically turned out to be a parcel delivery vehicle that also transported passengers so not only did we have to pick up passengers but stopping for long periods in the middle of nowhere to load the bus was commonplace. Long parts of the journey felt like the bus was off roading as we kept going over bump after bump. Then there was the winding mountain pass where Allison's nerves started to get the better of her. It was at this point we figured out that there was no advantage to laying flat on a sleeper service and would have probably been better off on a semi sleeper as when the bus went round a left turn we would both roll to the right, a sharp right turn, we'd roll left. Left, right, left, right we rolled. A major consolation to me was that if we had crashed laying flat my feet and legs would take the brunt of the impact and not my head and face. Crash, bang, broken ankle and leg, not broken skull n brain. There was another consolation, because of the constant stopping our ten hour journey turned into a thirteen hour journey which under normal circumstances would have really pissed us off but this meant we arrived in Canacona at 06:30 am instead of 03:30 am. The chances of getting a lift to Agonda at that hour would have been almost impossible.

We arrived at Fatimas guesthouse after an increased rickshaw ride fare that neither of us were prepared to argue over as we were too tired from our extended journey.
Fatimas for me was like a home away from home, I'd spent a month staying here last year whilst doing my Sampoorna yoga teacher training. It was one of the cheapest places to stay in Agonda and as we were on a budget (not necessarily a tight budget) it was good for what we needed, a bed to sleep in, or so I thought. Now there are some really nice beach huts right on the beach facing the sea here in Agonda, beautiful in fact, so Allison naturally wanted to take a look. Our first morning was spent looking at other accommodation. The majority of this other accommodation is over quadruple the price of ours but it is the festive season so why not splash out? But its also the first month of our one year away so we have to be a bit careful. So now we're involved in a Mexican stand off. Basic Fatimas or plush beach hut? I amazingly came out on top this time round, I don't know how but I did. If it was the end of our journey and cash flow wasn't an issue, no Mexican stand off would have occurred and we would have splashed out and stayed at H2O facing the ocean.

On our second day here I'd decided we should hire a scooter as its the easiest way to get around and visit the different beaches, restaurants and take in the sights.
The sequence of hiring a bike here is quite strange in regard to the way you would do it back home. You ask someone, anyone that you want to hire a scooter, now they either have a bike or no someone that has one. This guy Chetnan had one, we discussed the price, £2.50 per day, he gave me the keys, I took his mobile number, then rode away. No money, no ID, no passport, no nothing?

It was the eve before Christmas. We rode a scooter down to Palolem in the afternoon and had a nice Pizza in the restaurant Magic Italy.
When the evening came we had established ourselves at a table by the Cuba beach huts. Allison always out for a bargain had noted that they have happy hour between 6-8pm. What better way to watch the sun set than with two Caprioska's  for £1.80, bargain!

We remained at Cuba for dinner and both took delight in getting the waiter (unbeknown to him) to continuously repeat crispy Squid as he kept pronouncing it crip-sy Squid and for some reason it sounded hilarious.
After dinner we went for a stroll, we purchased a fire lantern on the main strip and headed to the beach. I held the lantern whilst Allison tried to light the fire lighter that was held in place by some metal wire underneath. Her trying took too long for this impatient man, so knowing I could do a better job and actually ignite the lighter we swapped rolls after some persuasive words. I held the fire lighter and 'plop', I had managed to pull it off the wire and it fell straight into the sand, getting absolutely covered. Not only that but when it had finally cooled off enough to put it back in place on the wire, Allison mentioned I hadn't even pulled open the lantern enough for it to fly. She opened the lantern fully and it swiftly sailed into the night sky. My delight in watching the beautiful lantern float up into the air was marred by my unmanliness to actually figure out why earlier the lantern was nosediving and not flying.
After our maiden voyage we stopped off at Simrose beach huts to listen to some entertainment. An Indian guy was singing cover versions of Christmas songs. Both our personal favourite became his Shaking Stevens number 'Merry Christmas Everyone'. He wasn't a bad singer and to our joy he would add a letter to certain words which would make the song more amusing, so for instance 'every' would become 'wevery'. "Merry Christmas Wevery one", "Children playing (change the H to a W) Wav-ing fun".

His rendition of Wappy birthday that he sang for someone was the last straw and we left to head back to Fatimas.  

It was strange being away at Christmas. I'm not a big fan of being away from blighty during the festive season but thought now I'm older it won't be such an issue. I was wrong, I had no Christmas spirit, in this heat it didn't feel like Christmas, I needed some cold weather, an open fire and a dodgy jumper to put me in the spirit of things. Watching endless adverts on TV and a definite over expenditure on food and alcohol would also have helped with my bereft of Christmas atmos.
I awoke on Christmas morning feeling like today is just like any other day. Tommy's little belly was rumbling and needed feeding. Allison wasn't getting ready fast enough for Tommy, so Tommy threw a tantrum. Throwing my toys out the pram due to feeling hungry wasn't necessarily the best thing to do on Christmas day but don't we all revert back to being kids at Christmas? Allison's thoughts of a nice breakfast on Christmas morning were swiftly eradicated by my mood and when I also chose the wrong place to eat. Her omelette was filled with loads of melted cheese and had the effect of making her feel sick, my pesto panini were two ordinary white bread rolls filled with pesto. The day wasn't improving and I had to take responsibility for my actions. A nice trip on the scooter to turtle beach to make amends was in order. I've not known Allison to get travel sickness but being on the back of the scooter with the constant twists and turns and the cheesy omelette sloshing around in her belly only amplified her feelings of nausea. At least she managed to forgive me for a while as we took a nice stroll along the gorgeous beach.

A selfie in the sun with our Christmas hats. (She may be smiling but at this point I had only been partially forgiven)

Turtle beach 

A couple of days after the hungry belly incident we were on the beach at Agonda and I asked Allison what she was reading on her Ipad, "an article about emotional immaturity" she replied, "so you are doing some self development" I responded, as I don't know anyone who's emotionally immature I thought. "Emotional immaturity in men, Tom". I had been told! The realisation of me behaving like a nob wasn't a new concept to me, being a nob had happened on numerous occasions but I couldn't use the normal excuse of being stressed or feeling tired as we were in paradise without any worries and I hadn't worked nights in nearly a month, although if I'm honest I hadn't slept well for a couple of nights.

Boxing day turned out to be a better day for both of us. I managed to keep little Tommy in check, the toys stayed in the pram and my adult self reigned supreme. After the disappointment of breakfast on Christmas day I took Allison on the back of the scooter, sans nausea to have breakfast at Space Goa where she had a delicious smoked salmon with scrambled eggs. I was redeeming myself from the previous days hiccup.

The next stop on the scooter was cola beach.

After that we visited Cabo de Rama which is an old fort a little bit further north along the coast. We wandered round the site taking in the Banyan trees, views and practising some yoga postures in precarious positions.

Allison and the Banyan tree

A view from the fort

Striking a crow pose atop the battlements.

On the 27th we basically decided that we weren't going to do a lot and spend the day relaxing on the beach. We had dropped the scooter off the evening before so had no plans whatsoever.
We chilled out at the H2O restaurant as it made Allison feel like we were partially staying there. At lunch I broke my vegetarianism which I was trying to sustain the whole time I was in India apart from a bit of fish now and again by eating some chicken. I didn't like the chicken very much, probably because it didn't have campylobacter and my body can't process a good healthy chicken. You don't really need to eat meat here as the majority of the dishes are vegetarian and taste better than their meat counterparts anyway.
In the evening we went for a meal at the roadhouse bar which is at the north end of Agonda beach. It is owned and run by a group of Nepalese guys who are doing their first season here.

We had a plate full of seafood which included a whole tuna, prawns, king prawns and squid. Everything was great about the evening but the only thing I regret is sharing two bucket mojitos and not just having the one.

The 28th was all about another day of relaxation, hangover minimising and the fruit bat tree. There are a couple of trees at the north end of Agonda beach which are covered with sleeping fruit bats and come dusk they start to slowly wake up, start screeching at each other and then take to the sky's in search of mangoes, bananas and other fruits.

If you are ever here it is well worth paying a visit to see the bats as they start to awaken and go off on their nightly hunt for food.