Goa and Hampi

 
You can ask Nick how much I stressed over where to spend my last week in Asia. My heart wanted Nepal, largely for the bad-ass factor. My head said, "Hey dipshit, the closest thing you had to a winter coat got lost in New Zealand, there's no room in your passport, you WILL get altitude sickness, and multiple western trekkers have recently had their heads cut off! And by the way, a week is not enough time to see Nepal. Come back and do it right." Since my fall back plan was the bliss of Goan beaches, I went with my head. Flew to Goa the same day Nick flew home. It was a good decision.

Goa is an Indian state on the Arabian Sea coast. A former Portuguese colony, impressive old Catholic churches and cemeteries dot the palm tree strewn landscape.  Home to an infamous hippy movement in the late 60's and 70's (I'm talking LSD handed to you as your feet hit the sand), the scene has mostly evolved/devolved into techno-loving Europeans looking to party. Yet a hint of it's spiritual essence has been retained as well, a true place for seekers. If the waves were bigger, Bohdi would have spent his endless summers here. People flock to Goa for "seasons" at a time. Everyone's either a yoga instructor or in training to become a yoga instructor. So needless to say, I'd fit right in. Shkh!

My plan involved heading South, to the more low key beaches of Palolem and Patnem. Rushed for time, I booked a place online without reading reviews or seeing pictures. Crossed my fingers the whole cab ride down that it wouldn't be a nightmare. Laguna Vista delivered! Chill beach huts with a cool view run by an amazing multinational staff. London Jack gave me all sorts of advice and tips for the area. Costa Rican Seb, just a genuine guy, always asked how my day went and even watched my large bag when I left for Hampi. Young Kieran twice gave me a lift into town on the back of his moped. The Nepalese kitchen staff cranked out amazing vegetarian dishes.  And American Lauren, besides being smoking hot and instructing yoga 20 yards from my porch, clearly kept the place afloat from a management side. Even the local pack of dogs stood vigil over my hut. Laguna Vista seems to welcome you into a little family.

Views from my porch!

"Good night Mike."

Despite uttering, "that's really not my scene" about a dozen times, I was dragged to a "silent noise" party. Parts of Goa enacted a post-10pm loud music ban to combat the developing Euro rave scene. So now parties exist where you're handed a pair of headphones and you choose red, blue, or green channel and everyone silently parties and dances the night away. As ridiculous as it sounds, it looked pretty cool, though I definitely kept my channel almost exclusively on Green after it lured me in with Public Enemy (the other channels were almost exclusively techno). Sadly no visual documentation exists. I purposefully did not bring my camera and good thing, there are rumors my face was painted.

This dude partied.

 The rest of my Goa time was relaxation and randomness. Finally got a haircut.....from a teenager in a shipping container. Drank/ate a fresh coconut with the funniest old man in India (his laugh was identical to Rafiki's in Lion King). And jumped in the waves and ate delicious dinners with Dennis and Karen, a simply wonderful German couple (themselves in the first month of a RTW trip) that Nick and I originally met in Jaisalmer.

Yes, he changed hats.

I also took a side journey to Hampi. Experienced my first sleeper bus of the trip. "Hey someone's in mine.....ahhh shit", as I viewed the dual numbers per compartment. Tried to find my happy place as a young Chinese man coughed next to me for 7 hours. Was going to just buy two "seats" for the return, but a wise man said, "this is India, they'll still put someone in there with you." This is India. Too true. Trip back I laughed at our absurd pairing with John, a cool Vancouver dude and the only person taller than me on the entire bus.

In between, I spent two days sweating and climbing amongst the ruins and boulders of the seat of the Vijayanagaran empire. Very hard to do justice to Hampi through words. I'll let the pictures below do the talking. Will just say it was unlike anything else I had seen on this trip.

My bus returned me to Goa at 4am (not 6am as i had been told) the next morning. A scary man in a trench coat approached, so obviously I took him up on the tuk-tuk ride the short way back to Laguna. The dogs stopped howling once they realized it was me and I went to the only place I knew to go, the cushions of the outdoor dining area. Apparently, that's where the Nepalese staff slept too. As Lauren recounted from them later, "We woke up and saw some random tourist sleeping...then realized it was Mike!" Apparently I was the first guest to ever do that. Luckily they let me check in to my hut around 7am. Slept a bit more and then hit the beach. As I stepped out of the Arabian, setting sun at my back, I tried not to think about how long it might be before my return to an ocean :(

After a final attempt to eat the country out of chicken tikka masala and garlic naan, I thanked everyone and went to bed. In my mind it was the perfect last day in Asia. I knew my real last day would be spent on two local buses, a tuk-tuk, a train, and taxi just to get to my 3am Mumbai-London flight. But that seemed fitting, T.I.I., this is India.

* Author's travel tip: If you ever book a trip to India, attempt to echo my general itinerary. End with Goa and Hampi. The comparative peace these areas offer tends to assuage the harsh memories of Mumbai cab rides and children dropping Nordeens. 

Hampi pics:

Old lady came out of nowhere and sniped me with a Bindi.