Goa — Anjun, the hippy beach

Landed in Kolkata in the middle of the night for connecting to a flight to Goa. Went from being comfortably surrounded by cheerful tourists and backpackers to being just me and Indians. From the terminal of the airport I could see the sun come up in an horizon smeared by the smog.

I landed in Goa a few hours later. At the exit of the airport I could see a small crowd of taxi drivers and vendors lined up on the barrier trying to get the attention of exiting travelers. All alone, without a SIM card to access internet, with no accomodation and not knowing anything about the place I was about to visit, I felt very much outside of my comfort zone.

A lady, a couple of people ahead of me in a queue, had just bought her pre-paid taxi to a hotel when an old man, realising she was going alone, told her "do you know the local language? Are people waiting for you at your hotel?". She replied positively and went to meet her driver outside. That short interaction made me realise I was no longer in the very safe south east Asia and should be cautious.

I waited around, hoping to find someone to share a taxi with. At some point a nice old lady sat next to me while her husband went to the pre-paid taxi counter. I initiated conversation. She explained a few things about the area and started telling me that maybe their neighbour could rent me a room but her husband came to take her and he was not in the mood for conversation. So I just let the opportunity slide and wished them a good day.

After finding a nice looking hostel some 10 km north of the airport I threw caution at the wind and booked a taxi just for myself.

My taxi driver didn't speak much English but seemed trustworthy. By now my biggest issue was the headrest of the back seat carving into my back and the lack of functional seat belts. First world problems.

The spacious roads gave way to smaller countryside streets winding through the palm trees and tropical-looking greenery. Not far from the hostel, the asphalt ended and I could sense my driver's hesitation as the car jumped around following the holes and bumps in the road. I told him I could walk the rest of the way.

The hostel felt remote, yet not fully disconnected. Surrounded by nature and at a 5 min walk to the beach. The bar and common area was open air in a well kept garden. Most people were chilling, having a drink or on their laptops. I found a sense of peace inside.

I was on my laptop when a guy approached me asking if I was a diver. I followed his stare to my t-shirt, realising I was wearing my manta diving school t-shirt. We got to talking. Not only he was Portuguese but he's also from Lisbon! His name was Zé, he was a tourist guide, frequent traveler and a diving enthusiast.

I joined Zé and a few more people for a beer at the hostel's bar. There I met a couple of British guys that were crossing the country in scooters. One of them had been traveling for longer but avoiding flying as much as possible. That approach had brought him through Kazakhstan and a few more stan countries. I found his story super inspiring. He was studying political science for climate change, and it showed in his traveling philosophy.

His friend was a special effects technician that despite being quite young had already worked in productions like Dr. Who and Willow. Again, extremely interesting people.

The next day me and Zé went down to the beach for breakfast, at a tiny wooden balcony with an amazing view of the coast. He was a cool guy. I wouldn't mind traveling with him for a little while, but he preferred Palolem beach to Anjuna and was going back there that same day. I didn't have time to join him. We exchanged Instagram handles and agreed to meet in Portugal for diving some day.

I spent the rest of the day enjoying the beach. Checking out crabs and fish left in the rocks by the low tides, drinking lassies and people watching. For lunch, Mushil, a bar tender at the hostel, recommended me Fish Thali, a Goan dish. When he saw me looking at the map memorising my way to the restaurant (I didn't have mobile data) he just decided to take me there himself. I hoped behind him on his scooter and off we went through the bumby dirt road. He was such a nice guy.

The food was incredible. The fish was breaded with Indian spices and fried, but in a way that kept the fish naturally juicy and not oily at all. With a couple of small crabs, not very different from the ones I observed in the rocks that morning, that were covered in curry. Accompanied with rice and a few more Indian sauces. I made a mess of myself, but it was absolutely worth it.

The following day I decided to go to Panjim and to check the old Portuguese neighbourhood.Read more