After the Indian Coffee House encounter I got on a train bound for Mangalore and while sweating out on the platform I boarded an air-conditioned seat carriage and started shivering. By the end of the journey I had caught a cold, put on a jumper and tracksuit bottoms, was toying with the idea of getting a scarf out from the pits of my bag, and had fallen fleetingly and distantly in love.
She was sitting a few seats ahead of me, jet black hair covered loosely by cream shawl, eyes big brown almonds, mouth brown and lined as a nut, entire face prettier than any picture I've ever seen, and with a shy smile she acknowledged my wide-eyed, just woken up gawp that carried on until her stop. With disappointment I watched her walk past the window smiling beatifically and giving me a final, gentle wave of the hand. Forget the hippy trail, man, my trip was complete.
In Mangalore I had to jump on another train for five minutes to Mangalore Junction where at 9pm I got onto a 'super-fast express' to Madagaon which travelled at the same speed as all the other trains I've ridden. There were beds aplenty and after all the action of the day I soon dropped off into blissful slumber and dreams of Moslem ladies in creamy headscarves, musing that the combined Islamic nations of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, UAE, Oman and East London, had never had the same heart fluttering effect on me.
She was sitting a few seats ahead of me, jet black hair covered loosely by cream shawl, eyes big brown almonds, mouth brown and lined as a nut, entire face prettier than any picture I've ever seen, and with a shy smile she acknowledged my wide-eyed, just woken up gawp that carried on until her stop. With disappointment I watched her walk past the window smiling beatifically and giving me a final, gentle wave of the hand. Forget the hippy trail, man, my trip was complete.
In Mangalore I had to jump on another train for five minutes to Mangalore Junction where at 9pm I got onto a 'super-fast express' to Madagaon which travelled at the same speed as all the other trains I've ridden. There were beds aplenty and after all the action of the day I soon dropped off into blissful slumber and dreams of Moslem ladies in creamy headscarves, musing that the combined Islamic nations of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, UAE, Oman and East London, had never had the same heart fluttering effect on me.
At about 4am (by now I was in a hazy dazed twilight zone) I kicked around in the Goan sand waiting for the first bus at 5am which dropped me at the seashore and I found a cafe open that I wish hadn't been because they served me the world's worst cup of coffee that I left untouched, wandered down a sandy lane and was accosted by a strange lady who said, "You need a room."
"Well as a matter of fact I do," I answered. "just so long as it has AC." I'd realised early on that trying to scrimp and save on money by going the ceiling fan route was in fact a waste of money as I couldn't get to sleep. AC it had to be and I slept til lunchtime ...
"Well as a matter of fact I do," I answered. "just so long as it has AC." I'd realised early on that trying to scrimp and save on money by going the ceiling fan route was in fact a waste of money as I couldn't get to sleep. AC it had to be and I slept til lunchtime ...
... which offered a bizarre choice of shark among English staples.
In daylight, Goa didn't appear as I thought it would. Not a hippy to be seen until I met Cosmo a waiter in a beach bar shack who rather than handing over a menu, offered a long list of mind altering substances, some of which I'd never even heard of, and I finally settled on a bag of weed to last til getting on a plane time and a couple of small pieces of paper that had me humming that Beatles classic morning, noon and night.
In daylight, Goa didn't appear as I thought it would. Not a hippy to be seen until I met Cosmo a waiter in a beach bar shack who rather than handing over a menu, offered a long list of mind altering substances, some of which I'd never even heard of, and I finally settled on a bag of weed to last til getting on a plane time and a couple of small pieces of paper that had me humming that Beatles classic morning, noon and night.
Down on the increasingly interesting beach there wasn't a bongo drummer, gyrating semi-naked chick or dread-locked juggler to be found, just a shed load of Indians, mostly men, walking up and down the sand and stopping next to bikini clad western women who were being shamelessly filmed on phones.
The waves were great though and I spent hours in the sea enjoying huge breakers smashing onto my head as I swam through them awaiting the next, slightly unnerved by the groups of Indian men who, when they couldn't find any chicks in bikinis, seemed to think I would do instead.
The waves were great though and I spent hours in the sea enjoying huge breakers smashing onto my head as I swam through them awaiting the next, slightly unnerved by the groups of Indian men who, when they couldn't find any chicks in bikinis, seemed to think I would do instead.