The Northern Beaches (and the Theft of Nicely-Broken-In Birkenstocks)

On our last full day with the Royal Enfield, we went to Mandrem and Morjim to check out the other beaches.

Mandrem was such a big contrast from Arambol. It is quiet, there was just one souvenir stall and there were very few beach huts. They are a tad more expensive, but these were made in better taste and looked more secure that the ones we were shown in Arambol. 

The wind was really strong that day, and where there were no little ponds and creeks, the sand would fly  so we had a beach sandstorm.

There was a big sandbar and lots of puddles and creeks on the wide, grey beach. The wind made ripples on the water.

It was so quiet and relaxing the people would doze off on the sand.

It's so cheesy! A Hallmark Card moment we couldn't resist :)

Take a good look at one of the posts on this hut... it's alive!

Henri and the Royal Enfield that burned him and put a hole in his shorts... but he still loves it.

Gone, Going, Goa on an Enfield

We had a lot of ground to cover, all the historic sights on the northern beaches up til sunset, and check our Goan nightlife to-do list all in one day.

First was the old Portuguese fort in Vagator...

With stunning views of Vagator Beach and the forest nearby.

This used to be one of the secret locations of Vagator's notorious rave parties.

Now it's under constant surveilance by the police, and the parties have shifted... someplace else.

Then we went to Anjuna, hippie headquarters since the 70s.

Let's Goa (F*cking dead monkey and the remains of a saint)

Going from Hampi to Goa was perhaps the hardest, most hard core trip we ever did. The sleeper bus to Goa  usually goes for 600 rs, but to be a tyrant, the lone bus operator sells the tickets for 700 just for the season. The tourist agent in French Travels was a nice old man who tried to book us on the sleeper bus that day; but we were not keen on taking it because it's too expensive (the reviews on Trip Advisor were bad too) and besides, there were no seats left. So instead, he gave us advice on how to go to Goa by taking local buses and how to chill out while doing it. He told us a story when he missed the sleeper and he lost his wallet but got home anyway. He's so cool! If you are ever in Virupapur Gaddi, seek his advice, he'll give you an honest opinion.

So, at 1pm we rode the ferry from Virupapur Gaddi to Hampi (where a punk girl told us to go to Arambol in Goa) then took a bus to Hospet (where a saddhu farmer who spoke good english gave us advice on train possibilities)... 

From there we took the long bus ride to Hubli (there was a big traffic jam, but the view at sunset of the dam was spectacular; then Henri saw a dead monkey... he tells the story best in person, so if you ever see us, DEMAND that he tells the story of the "f*cking dead monkey on the chair." He told his mom the story and she thought he was high - it's THAT weird)...

In Hubli, we had dinner at the place recommended by the old gentleman at French Travels, a place with a hyper waiter, good food, and chilled beer...

We were there from 10 till 12, then took a bus to Panaji in Goa. The road was as bad as we heard, we slipped and slid from our seats and Henri and I kept changing positions because the bus was trying to murder us... our one consolation was, at least we were not in sleeper beds. At 5 in the morning, we took another bus to Mapusa, which was the place where we could get a bus to Arambol at the northern tip of Goa.

It was great to see Goa at sunrise from the bus. We were hungry but for a moment, all that was forgotten. It's as green as Kerala, and as clean. We felt like we were out of India again.

We found a place to stay at 8am, slept for a long time to make up for the torture we endured for 16 hours. But guess how much the trip cost us? 491 Rs for two persons versus 1,400 Rs if we took the sleeper bus. The Israeli guy Henri made friends with in Goa found out we were doing the local bus circuit and he was impressed that we didn't do it the spoiled brat way... but he had no idea how heroic it really was :)

So here we are at last at Arambol beach, time to reward ourselves with cocktails on the beach, international cuisine, and long walks without anybody asking where we are from and what we are doing in India. Freedom!