Part 14 . Bombay to Goa.

The ferry from Bombay was beautifully painted but an antiquity . It had a large cabin and main deck and an upper deck. It was the end of the monsoon season and the daytime temperature was about 35c . There was no breeze or fans in the cabin so mostly people stayed out on deck, the lower one had a degree of shade from the upper deck. They just kept letting people on, hundreds of passengers, way over what looked safe. By pure chance we were on the side away from the direct sunlight and we had chosen a spot next to the cabin wall, but though it wasn’t comfortable, it was exciting and the view was amazing. All the way along the coast of Maharashtra and Goa, docking at Panjim.

Rural Goa was such a delight after the big cities, we caught a local bus up to Mapusa and bought fruit and yoghurt to fortify ourselves .The market was so colourful and much more varied than in the city and cheaper too. The ex colonial Portuguese architecture such a contrast and the lush vegetation, palms and friendly local people made it feel like somewhere you’d really want to stay.

We wanted quiet and seclusion, we’d been told about the beaches at Calangute and Anjuna where the famous full moon parties were held and told that the further north you went the quieter it got. We ran into some “orange people” as they were called, followers of Bagwan Rajneesh a popular guru from Puna, who said they’d rented a house in Chapora, the quietest place they could find, and said there was other accommodation and a degree of peace and privacy about the beach there that was hard to find on the bigger beaches. We got a bus.

It was early evening when we arrived and there was a small clamour of people to meet the bus, offering fruit, drinks, accommodation and on the outside of this group was an elderly Indian lady, not pushing or shoving, but quietly offering a room in her house. Asking how much it was she said the equivalent of about £1.00 a night so we followed her about 10 minutes up the road from the beach and were shown into a huge room in a classic Goan bungalow with a dung floor and coconut palm roof, there was a toilet just outside for our use and sink with a tap. The room was beautifully hung with photos of her family, a small shrine in the corner, a lantern, some candles, a low bed to keep you off the floor and two cane chairs. She told us to help ourselves and that there was a small cafe we’d passed about 5 minutes down the hill where we could get meals and any bottled water or supplies.

It seemed ridiculously spacious for the two of us but the lush vegetation of the garden and the big widows made it cool and extremely comfortable. There was a general hubbub from behind the house , we could hear the family going about their daily business, cooking chatting and planning, three generations about 10 people including a baby and small children.

The little cafe was just a palm leaf shack run by two young men, Nagesh and Ganesh, Hindu brothers, the walls covered in cheap devotional pictures and a basic cooking area, a few Rattan style tables and chairs and a Tilly lamp hung from the ceiling. The food was simple and traditional and the juices freshly squeezed. We met most of the 6 or eight other European hippie types that were staying down on the beach in huts and just relaxed into the sounds of the countryside.

In 1974 there was no airport in Goa, no entries in tourist magazines, no visiting cruise ships, the beach side towns ( apart from Kalangute and Anjuna ) had no mains electricity or stores of a permanent nature, just a few scattered houses and just up the river from us a fishing port. All the boats were traditional dug out, tree trunk style craft with an outrigger for stability and a single square sail, a few had small outboard motors but not many. This was still a pretty well kept secret. Walking to and from the cafe that first night it was completely dark, just the starlight and moon to enable us to find our way. We really felt like we had arrived at a perfectly beautiful, serene spot and decided to stay for the foreseeable future. No more travelling for while.

Go to part 15 Goa- Lifes a beach