Wandergliding: Where Do the Days Goa?

November 20-25

Goa is the type of place where it’s very easy to fall into a Groundhog Day routine (apologies if you’ve never seen the movie and don’t know what I’m talking about...but it essentially mean that you repeat the same day, day after day). My activities have primarily been relaxing & reading, jogging & blogging, eating & drinking.

Unfortunately there have only been a couple of days when the weather has been suitable for paragliding and for one reason or another I have missed the opportunities. One day I consciously decided that there were too many wings in the air (I could see at least seven) and that it just wouldn’t be that fun. The ridge isn’t that long so your head would have to be on a swivel, constantly looking out for other pilots. Added to that, I was almost a kilometer from my hut (with my wing), then I’d have to walk back and go another kilometer up the promontory so it would have taken probably an hour to get up to launch.

A paraglider in flight(tough to see)...I was jealous:

Sunset cricket:

The other time I could have flown was on the 25th but unfortunately I was recovering from Delhi Belly. Yes, I finally got the true traveller’s bug. It started with me feeling a slight fever one evening and I figured it was mild sun stroke. That day I’d headed to find a place to do my laundry and got slightly lost (well lost sounds a bit extreme, more like I didn’t take to quickest route) and spent close to an hour walking around. After that I went for a jog and then finally got in the shade. I didn’t actually get sunburnt but my skin was definitely radiating some serious heat. I returned to my beach hut around 9:30pm, about an hour after I started to feel a bit off. Unfortunately Mr. Diarrhea decided to join the party.

For the past three or four days they have been constructing three new huts right behind mine and they often begin at 7am. Sadly this evening, since there was rain in the morning hampering their work, they continued until 11:30pm! I was not pleased. I laid in my bed switching between shivering and sweating and making frequent trips to the toilet...not fun. It was my last (and a terribly long) night for the week at this beach hut (2Pac) and I did tell the older, usually a bit drunk owner, Sebastian, that I was not pleased with the construction and I would be moving. So I’ve relocated to the huts behind the Olive Garden, the restaurant with the ”Cheers factor”: where everyone now knows my name (and I know most of theirs...I have a few more to learn). It’s not only cheaper but much more convenient. It also means that the toilet seat beat out the view (read the last post if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

My first hut:

The view from my first hut:

My new hut:

Happy Pinko, one of the Olive Garden waiters:

At times on the beach there can be a lot of locals walking around hocking stuff, ranging from jewellery to sarongs, CDs and DVDs (illegally burned I’m sure) to coconuts and pineapple. It can become a bit of an annoyance at times as I’ve often not been able to make it through a paragraph in my book between vendors interrupting me. I was slightly surprised one day, as I was walking along the beach, that a fifty year old woman came up to me with a large sack and asked whether I wanted to buy a paraglider! “Good German glider” she said. I declined as obviously I don’t need a second one and I’m guessing that it’s stolen and it looked pretty beaten up. I later found out from Manu, the manager of the Olive Garden, that a friend of his bought it for 1000 rupees (about $25 CAD)! He said it’s old and probably not flyable but good for practicing kiting on the ground. I guess you just never know what you may be offered to buy.

A coconut vendor:

Typical beach bar restaurants:

What a gorgeous beach Arambol is....

I have passed this cow at this point walking up to launch a number of times...I think it lives here:

Arambol from up on the ridge:

Enjoying the sunset:

So I had my first experience of baksheesh one of these evenings. I was walking along the beach close to midnight, heading back to my hut. It was close to a full moon and there were lovely 2-3 foot waves crashing in on the sandy beach. I decided to sit down and enjoy it for 5-10 minutes but soon two guys walked up to me, one wearing a police uniform and caring a 3 foot long wooden stick (their weapon of choice on the beach it seems). They asked me what I was doing and I said just enjoying the waves and the moonlight before heading to bed. Well, I guess this is not allowed! They claimed that I could be doing something illegal (smoking hash) and/or it’s dangerous for me to be alone as I could be mugged. “You must pay minor offence!” the non-uniformed man informed me: 500 rupees (about $12.50 CAD). It seemed all a bit dodgy as they weren’t writing it up so I was sure the money was just going into their pockets but I didn’t feel like pushing the issue for that amount of money...not worth a night in an Indian jail! A few days later, just before sunset, I saw two cops hassling a lady who was smoking (I think it was just a cigarette) and I could tell be the hand gestures and body language that they were trying to fine her but she wanted a written fine. In the end they gave up and resumed their beach patrol...good on ya lady...fight the power!

One of many beautiful sunsets: