A Long Way to Goa - Arambol, India
Arambol, India
The options for getting down to Goa were either a two hour flight, or a 39 hour cross-country train journey. The flight would cost £100 each, and the train only £20 (for the slightly more comfortable AC 3 tier cabin instead of the usual sleeper class, which would have cost only £7!). Decision made. Our section of the train was shared with a Canadian, a Dane (Jeremy and Rasmus), and an Indian couple, spending their first night as man and wife on the train, sleeping on separate bunks surrounding by snoring strangers. We all settled down to enjoy the ride, swapping anecdotes from our travels. The AC cabin felt (very slightly) luxurious in comparison to the sleeper class we were used to, the padded benches/beds were slightly more padded, sheets and pillows were provided, and the bathrooms were actually cleaned every few hours, with TOILET PAPER being replenished in a western loo. We must be getting used to Indian trains because despite the snoring, alarms going off at different hours and very noisy people exiting and entering the train at various hours of the night, we had two deep sleeps. Many many card games, many cups of chai, many pages of books, a few biryanis and ice creams (consumed separately) later we were waking up at 5am, after our second night on the train, to disembark in Margao, Goa. We travelled to Arambol in North Goa with Jeremy and Rasmus which involved a tuk-tuk (all four of us, of course, 4 backpacks, 4 day packs), three buses, and a half hour walk with bags in the midday heat, after the 39hours already travelled. Goa felt like being in a completely different country in comparison to the north, the people are mainly Christians, all the restaurants serve alcohol (including Bloody Mary cocktails!), tourists and expats almost outnumber locals and the pace of life goes very slowly which suited us just fine after the enjoyably hectic places we had visited so far. Every morning started by sweating through an hour and a half of intense Iyengar yoga, before heading to an expat owned earthy organic cafe for a yummy breakfast. A couple of times we took the pathway leading to the next beach which was slightly more rugged than Arambol, behind the palm trees lining the sand was a fresh water lake, called Sweet Lake, perfect for swimming. We found a trail, that someone back in Delhi told us about, behind the lake through the jungle to an old Banyan tree, where a Baba (holy person) lives. Everyone sits around sharing fruit, smokes and ideas of life with the Baba - occasionally asking for Ayurvedic remedies and advice on certain ailments. For my birthday in September Carl had suprised me by booking a yoga retreat for over Christmas. After three days winding down in Arambol, it was time to head there.