This is the beggining of a few insights into my life on the road. Sadly it seems that the world is coping perfectly well wothout me, Pete has surely already claimed the FNR as a creation of his own and it seems that the party has even re-migrated to Edinburgh in my absence. Nontheless, I hope these small extractswill satitate everyone's appetite for somethign exotic - I refer here to my newly tanned self- as well as providing some peace of mind that I haven't yet go myself into too much trouble.
I have recently left Goa...trance Mecca of the world, though I only caught the beginning of what looks like will be a promising season. A welcome change from Mumbai - far to hectic- I was quick to forget my last experience in an Indian city and will be the first to admit that I still came out short-changed, these boys are proffessional scammers, as sly as benefits cheats, yet they're out on the street looing for an easy buck rather than sitting on a three piece settee Carlsberg Export in hand. I'll give it to them...they work hard, but they are tricky bastards. So leaving Mumbai, ego slightly bruised I headed on down to Goa with intent to chill.
Completely easy going life up on the Northern beachs of Arambol, living in beach huts 50 m from the sea with a small group of people settling in for the season. Chillums and grinders rule here and the niche backpacker crowd still own the place...not swamped by Indian toruists as I found further down the coast. Beach bbqs most evenings with freshly caught crab and the rest of the day enjoy the fine Goan sun. Found myself a Enfield 350 motobike, so was cruising up and down the coast with a couple of friends. This was the real Goa...deserted beaches...no hassle from anyone, just us pitching a couple of hammocks and riding back into town for a few more beers. Equally Goa has changed since the loose party days on the 90s....the Russian mafia has even set up shop....business is booming in all sorts of illicit activities and India being India... enough money sent in the right person's direction will solve most problems. Rumour has it that the real Goan scene moved up into the mountains years ago...and you have to be in the know to find small communes littered with Israelis having overstayed their visas several years over.
Anyway, got pretty friendly with a sound group of people, some very chilled Indian lads down to set up an organic juice cafe, my partners in Trance...the Germans Ko and Natalie and even old connections from Edinburgh; the place quickly became home, turning into several late night sessions at our beach bar followed by even later mornings. This life, could have become the perfect routine as it already has done for so many, up at midday and strive to do nothing for the whole day. I even stumbled across three time world record holder and India's strongest
man, Monty, a 140kg bloke built as they come who gave me a lift on the back of his 120cc scooter, pretty surreal. And similarly when was the last time you heard the word's hash/coke/mdma offered to you by boys travelling 30mph as they pull up alongside your motorbike...anything goes here, yet I politely declined!
India, ladies and gentlemen, is epic; I will certainly be making a return to Goa around Dec time and I would encourage anybody who is interested to join me. Until then Bonsoir
I have recently left Goa...trance Mecca of the world, though I only caught the beginning of what looks like will be a promising season. A welcome change from Mumbai - far to hectic- I was quick to forget my last experience in an Indian city and will be the first to admit that I still came out short-changed, these boys are proffessional scammers, as sly as benefits cheats, yet they're out on the street looing for an easy buck rather than sitting on a three piece settee Carlsberg Export in hand. I'll give it to them...they work hard, but they are tricky bastards. So leaving Mumbai, ego slightly bruised I headed on down to Goa with intent to chill.
Completely easy going life up on the Northern beachs of Arambol, living in beach huts 50 m from the sea with a small group of people settling in for the season. Chillums and grinders rule here and the niche backpacker crowd still own the place...not swamped by Indian toruists as I found further down the coast. Beach bbqs most evenings with freshly caught crab and the rest of the day enjoy the fine Goan sun. Found myself a Enfield 350 motobike, so was cruising up and down the coast with a couple of friends. This was the real Goa...deserted beaches...no hassle from anyone, just us pitching a couple of hammocks and riding back into town for a few more beers. Equally Goa has changed since the loose party days on the 90s....the Russian mafia has even set up shop....business is booming in all sorts of illicit activities and India being India... enough money sent in the right person's direction will solve most problems. Rumour has it that the real Goan scene moved up into the mountains years ago...and you have to be in the know to find small communes littered with Israelis having overstayed their visas several years over.
man, Monty, a 140kg bloke built as they come who gave me a lift on the back of his 120cc scooter, pretty surreal. And similarly when was the last time you heard the word's hash/coke/mdma offered to you by boys travelling 30mph as they pull up alongside your motorbike...anything goes here, yet I politely declined!
India, ladies and gentlemen, is epic; I will certainly be making a return to Goa around Dec time and I would encourage anybody who is interested to join me. Until then Bonsoir
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| The Bosphoru |
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| Aya Sofia at Sultanahmet |
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