Palolem beach Goa Jan 2013

Goa Goa – I didn’t expect to love it as much as I did. The days just got better and better – we found quieter places to go, we got to know people, we found our feet and started to feel more relaxed as the sun and the sea worked their magic on our rather tawdry and frankly, ill - white bodies.

Walking from one end of Palolem beach to the other gave us a clearer picture of its characters as the resplendant red orb of the rising sun slowly climbed up from behind the forested hills at the eastern end of the beach, the full moon still glimmering in the powder blue cloudless western sky.

Sunrise on the beach

 This early in the morning it’s the feral dogs that have the beach. Their life looks as mellow as a Goan coconut cream fish korma. They playfully tumble and speed about with each other in large packs, like playful, untroubled, teenagers. With freedom to roam and plentiful food they appear to own the place. I think the dogs adopt a shack or a place on the beach, a territory. They are welcomed, people give them scraps and they sleep outside a particular restaurant each night. We had three sleeping on our beach each night, curled into little soft balls, occasionally barking an alarm at drunken late night passers by. Some more nervous tourists carry sticks as they walk the beach, but the dogs were as peaceful as the humans. We saw one dog fight during the 6 days we spent on the beach and one man fight – both ending as abruptly as they started.

Early morning wake up swim - Indian style

As the dogs woke, so did the beach crew – sleeping curled up in colourful grubby sheets behind their bars or on flat charpoys behind their restaurants – mostly under the stars. Sleepily climbing out from their cocoons they start the sweeping. First thing it’s the sound of this sweeping that alerts us to day breaking – our balcony is swept free of sand as we wake, the sand is  swept free of leaves and coconuts husks.

The litter pickers comb the beach with large sacks before most people lift their heads from their pillows, so litter is no big problem here – they must be alerted to western sensibilities – off the beach the litter is shocking. The papers full of stories of plastic bag bans, litter awareness campaigns and local dignitaries assuring big plans afoot. Somehow, as with most things in India – the sexual inequality, sewage, corruption – there is a lot of talking and little action. I remind myself to accept India with all its irritations, as the whole is a remarkable hot pot of ingenuity, diversity, contradictions and always will be incomprehensible.

The beach football starts early – the young workers, having swept and tidied, grab some time before the punters wake to play some serious football – usually there is a serious cricket match going on in pretty much the same spot, despite there being acres of flat beach.

These boys display some serious muscles and serious ball skills, a multicultural mix too – some Goan, some Malaysian, some northern Indian, some from nearby Karnataka, no European faces up yet though.

At this time of day the only other people active on the beach are the exercisers – in which category Clare and I fit on this particular morning.

There are yogis, runners, walkers, weight lifters, general stretchers, swimmers and combinations of all these. As we crossed onto the long Palolem beach from our little off shoot bay, we walk down a wooden causeway. Below us a mans leg is thrust upwards and is resting above his head just by our feet in an impressive stretch. As we look on in awe he gathers himself together and runs off down the beach with his trim looking companion. We see the two of them again at the far end of the beach saluting the rising sun. A woman sits every morning cross legged under a shawl contemplating deeply, in the same position every day. Others stretch and bend to the sound of the lapping water, in the cool morning air. This morning there was a haze of slightly acrid wood smoke hanging over the beach, which I hadn’t notice before – maybe blown from the breakfast cooking fires of the workers hinterland nestled behind the shacks on the beach.

I am walking Clare to the far end of the beach to show her the spectacular sun rise. Its about a mile long and I have been running two or three lengths most mornings. Once we see the sun rise Clare walks home alone and I run back to the cool end of the beach. I sit and meditate in the shade of a fishing boat for a while too and am shooed gently away by its fisherman owner, as he has to go to work and I am in the way.

before the yoga retreat at far end of Palolem beach Sun rise about to happen over that hill in the background

Its not long before the beach is filling up. Many Indians from Mumbai for long holiday weekends, American workers from Bangalore, a short flight away, Russian tourists shyly struggle to communicate in English, the English, mostly from Essex swear loudly, even first thing. As the sun warms up the foreign bodies are uncovered - most would be look better without their swimming costumes on or totally covered up, most white bodies have turned brown and wrinkled, most lithe and attractive brown bodies are well covered. Its necessary to have a strong coffee to really get in the mood for this.

 ‘Wi Fi  for Free’ is advertised in all bars but, after day 2, doesn’t work any more. Someone has a monopoly and no-one is really telling us who. I have been enjoying writing in a beach bar watching the world pass by and drinking coffee from Kerala. Now I have to go to a small air conditioned hut to book train tickets or upload photos to our blog. I loose interest very quickly and start a book – White Tiger – again.

Travels from Palolem – a short history.
Turtle Beach

Turtle beach today has been an exquisite highlight. What a gem of a beach and thanks to turtles – it is preserved as such. No development to happen so turtles can lay their eggs as they have done for millennia here on the beach. They come at night at about 3am, scurry up the beach – leave their eggs and scurry back to the water. We found hammocks in the Cyprus crested sand dunes behind the beach – what a lovely place this would have been to spend the night – checking out the turtles in the night and sleeping under the bright full moon. The beach is long, tropical, pure and clean, the warm sea crashes onto the gentle slope of the silvery beach and hundreds of small crabs dart sideways in and out of their deep round holes in the rippled sand.

Clare on her birthday on Turtle Beach

It struck me that I had possibly had the best ocean dip in my life here on Turtle beach. The water was clear and blue, the Arabian sea always feels deceptively gentle. The sea temperature is just a little cooler than body temperature so it feels welcoming and soothing on skin that enters it hot from the burning tropical sun. I say deceptively because I know many lives are lost here in the under currents that pull legs from under those that are not cautious enough, especially those that have been drinking. My son and ex-partner found, shockingly,  a floating body themselves one year in Calangute. A stark reminder of the dangers.

our boat from Palolem

On our way back to Palolem

Back to Palolem far too soon BUT we did catch some amazing dolphins on the way home. WE shot out to sea and our skipper started to get really excited and then screaming DOLPHINS DOLPHINS DOLPHINS _ well they were pretty cool but we think he may have  secreted some noxious substances whilst we were taking in the Turtle Beach vibe. As we motored back to our beach he sang wildly and, actually quite soulfully - just the energy seemed a little out of kilter so we wondered???

Our little home beach and huts.