I’m now in India baby!
I arrive into Goa in the early hours and take a one hour taxi to my guesthouse in north goa. After stopping at an atm I pay the driver and check in straight away, however after a few hours sleep there is a knock on my door, the owner says the taxi driver has come back as I didn’t pay him! I’m delirious from lack of sleep, angry at being woken up and now this guy is trying to pull a fast one. It has been three hours since he dropped me off and is stood looking annoyed explaining that I owe him 500 rupees as he gave me too much change. I check my purse and work out he is right I did short change him whoops! Great start to the country!
I sheepishly go back to my room and after more sleep I head out to explore. The area is beautiful, full of shabby chic colourful houses, huge palm trees and so many exotic flowers. There is a Portuguese influence in goa and just seeing the run down but charming huts and shacks, women walking in embellished saris balancing huge bowls on their heads, and Indian children paddling near wooden river boats it feels a world away from Thailand!
I had heard about the legendary anjuna flea market which has been going for years full of hippies selling their exotic wares. It’s such a huge place and walking along winding dusty paths being shouted at to look at certain stalls, smelling incense and dodging cows is crazy but fun.
The next day I decide to explore the beach but soon realise that this is not my cup of tea. Rows and rows of rickety sun loungers spam the huge stretch of sand but the amount of leery men was ridiculous. I didn’t even feel comfortable taking my shorts and vest off to sit and sunbathe in my bikini. Being by myself I was inundated with Indian men wanting to sit next to me, sell me drugs, buy me drinks and I felt extremely annoyed and harassed when all I wanted to do was relax!
The foreign office has issued warnings to female solo travellers due to recent rapes and sexual assaults. Knowing this and feeling this intense pressure, pervy looks, large groups of drunk Indian men and not a fellow backpacker in sight I wasn’t feeling happy about this place. I work out that I have ‘the fear’, when it may be all in my head but something just isn’t sitting right here. I knew it would be a bit more intense that in Thailand but this was just making me uneasy and upset at how very different I thought Goa would be in my head.
That night I go for dinner in baga and it’s like being on a seedy strip in magaluf with cars beeping, drunken people, flashing neon lights and kebabs shops. Apparently this place in north goa is the summer playground for Russians, even the menus and waiting staff speak Russian to cater for the masses that come here!
I am recommended a curry place but being sat by myself, surrounded by tables of Russians and hassled by Indian men it isn’t much fun. On the walk back to my hostel I get talking to a group of Russian teenagers who see I am alone and one girl in the group speaks quite good English so we go for a drink. I have never partied with Russians before but boy can they knock back the drink! We end up teaching each other phrases and end the night Bollywood style dancing, I guess if you can’t beat them then join them hey?!
