Following the Herd

Saturday 29 November 2008
Arambol – Baga Beach, Goa

We woke up and had some food. We chatted with the boys. Tim and Pat were in India for a good few months, whereas Evan and I were only here until December. So the two of us decided we would make a move for another beach, while the boys decided to stay and enjoy the paradise in Arambol.

From the bike drive Evan had checked out another beach that he thought was worth a visit, so we headed for that one. We arranged a price with a driver and headed off.

We travelled to Baga, a beach further south than Arambol. It was more populated there, with a bigger beach and more tourists, but not quite as beautiful or idyllic. Once we arrived we arranged some accomodation and had a look at the place.

It's definitely a tourist centre here, with what looks like lots of two-week holiday makers. There are a fair amount of Indian tourists as well, and more than enough of your fat Brits and Russians eating plates of chips. And lots of old people too. Not exactly glamorous.

We have a bit of a wonder around town to find some other accommodation as ours is a bit basic. There are loads of guest houses here. Every building seems to be one. Most are decorated in bright colours in a basic format with lots of balconies and balustrades, perhaps the result of the Portuguese influence.

We have a walk along the beach and try out the water. It's cloudy still and there's a strong wind so the water's a bit rough but it's fun to play around in. After a short while however the lifeguards (yes, surprisingly they exist in India) blows whistles at everyone and tell us to come in as it's dangerous. There's a strongish cross undertow on the backwash but nothing to worry about. As most Indians can't swim however, I guess it's better for them.

We go back and freshen up. Evan has to do something, can't remember what, probably speak to his girlfriend for an hour or so. So I head out and check out a few bars. I kick things off with a G'n'T and then a Mojito. After that it's a house cocktail that's sweeter than a Mars bar covered in Crunchie. But like a trooper I force it down.

While I'm drinking my cocktails there's a man with a synthesizer who is performing a number of songs, while what appear to be his daughters dance arhythmically in front of him. It's mainly Indian songs, but there's a few classics thrown in. Glen Madieros's 80s hit Nothing's Gonna Change My Love for You and The Birdie Song. It takes me back over 20 years and I feel like I'm on a package holiday in Spain.

Evan hits the strong beer like the true African that he is. First up is a local drink called Hayward's 5000. Presumably it's called that as given the effect it had on Evan it must have an alcohol content of 5000%. He's soon drunk as, and after dinner we hit up the clubs.

It's an eye-watering 800 INR to get into the club that will let us in – Mambo. That's more expensive than most clubs in London. Inside it's playing R'n'B so Evan is happy and dances in what can only be described as an interesting fashion. There's an air conditioned dance floor and an outside smoking area. The beers are a steep 100 INR for a small bottle, though that's still less than half of London prices.

Inside it's mainly guys though there are a few girls. I chat to a few people. There's some people from Denmark, others from Leeds who are convinced a fight is about to start as they're not Indian. The trouble is that they're not in Chapeltown and are somewhat out of their depth. I meet some fierce black dude with thin dreads from south London who's friendly as anything. I dance with a Russian girl for about 30 seconds before she runs off.

It gets to about 4 and the place is thinning out so we call it a night. We grab a bite to eat – Evan orders a curry by mistake – and head home.