Elsien's Traveblogue

Apparently there aren't many tourists in Goa at the moment. Normally, at this time of year it should be packed, but it isn't. It's easy to find a room anywhere, Anjuna Beach is half empty, the junk sellers do not have nearly enough customers and some are even packing up or dropping their prices, desperate to sell anything at all.
Yet it's gorgeous and hot, the beaches are white, wide and sandy, the palmtrees swaying in the seabreeze, the sea, well, it's the sea, innit, and the cafe shacks are picturesque and playing peaceful music. Maybe that's it: the horrible techno trance music is hard to find nowthat there's a ban on electronically amplified music outside the approved venues as well as a ban on beach raves. Technoheads are staying away and even Indian drunks are thin on the ground. Many old and new hippies probably left the place already before, although some seem to be returning. There wasn't a proper yoga culture here, but my friend Rosalind aka Asema who used to run a yoga centre in Mauritius is doing her best to organise something starting with yoga sessions to greet the sunrise on the beach. There are some like-minded old hippies already: a 70-year-old Swedish one who calls himself Devdas (real name probably Erik), his silent friend Thomas who never takes off his hat, another Swedish yoga teacher with a weight problem, a young Iranian Hampstead dental assistant and an elderly Indian gentleman who used to live in Poona and who really does look like a swami. Tonight they all danced to say goodnight to the setting sun while Indian tourists took pictures.
They are a lot more fun than the Internet honeymoon couples although I do like the crazy pothead Israelis and Russians here, but no one else likes them. I met this very hard-boiled young Russian film-maker from Moscow who loves West Ham football club because he's an Iron Maiden fan (who also love West Ham).

The only Indians I meet are the lovely Catholic Goan family behind whose bungalow I'm staying, in their tropical garden, and people who run the local restaurants, lots of them from Nepal, Kashmir and Sikkim. I don't associate with the ones who come to ogle the bikini-clad Western women and to get drunk or the families who frolic fully dressed in the surf for a few minutes, take pictures of each other and then go away again. The only sensibly dressed Indian family I met turned out to be resident in Stockholm.
Still, Goa was beautiful, the beaches as well as inland - I made some little trips to have a look at the rest of the place as I am not much of a beach person. I left the land of the Lotus Eaters last night and am now in Kerala to find out about Kathakali theatre.