I arrive back in Margoa and get a chilly 2 hour motorcycle taxi into the north of Goa to a town called Vagator. This is familiar territory now, the area I visited last year. I arrange accommodation, take a shower and walk to "Dipties Place" a bar/restaurant where I know the owner from last year. As I sit having dinner and a beer I’m sure there’s something different about the place but I cant quite put my finger on it. As the night wares on I realise what it is. It’s the mass of animal noises all around the bar. Diptie in his wisdom has bought a pet Cockerel named 'Rambo' with the belief that it will keep the flees off his dogs and cats. Diptie is a little eccentric.

The following day I arrange a motorcycle (much needed if you are to explore North Goa properly) and set about getting my bearings. Over the next two days I visit Baga, Chapora, and Anjuna, and have a relatively lazy time relaxing on various beaches. I arrange to move down to Baga where my parents who arrive for two weeks holiday the following day will be based.

A Great Two Weeks Holiday with Ma and Pa

Mum and Dad arrive early morning and I make my way over to their hotel by breakfast time. Its great to see them and we go through the usual catching up, and “ooh how we’ve missed you” chat, before heading to Baga beach for some breakfast and much needed relaxation for them.

We arrange a Scooter for the old man (very entertaining at first.. He hadn’t ridden a motorbike for over forty years, but he soon got used to it). Over the next two weeks we tour all over North Goa (Baga, Calangute, Anjuna, Chapora, Morjim, Panji, and Old Goa. We even head down to Palolim in South Goa for a couple of days on my favorite beach.

Mum and Dad managed to get alot of their Christmas shopping done in the huge markets at Anjuna, they enjoyed the day trip to the capital Panjim where the health and safety of the building sites seemed to fascinate the Dad. The International Film Festival of India was on in Panjim at the time of our visit and hence there was loads of unfinished construction work. Obviously born from great intensions of showing the world how modern and advanced India is, before the inevitable running out of time and money, leaving the city looking great in area's but like a huge disorganised mess in others.

A few more beach days and then we head to Old Goa, 'The Old Portuguese Capital which now lay deserted except for a few churches'. The exhibition of St Francis Savior is on and there is a frenzy of excitement around the streets and a rather unnecessary flee market selling plastic St Francis Saviors etc. The exhibition takes place every ten years when they bring old Francis’s body out on display. Apparently it’s a miracle as his body hasn’t decayed in over four hundred years. However the miracle is over, there’s not much of the poor chap left now. Seeing the body was a little gruesome but hey, when in Rome!

After a couple more beach days, and a good feed up its time to say our goodbyes and the olds are off to the cold winters Christmas at home.

The three days after Mum and Dad went home were very strange. I spent the first with a Kashmiri Guy (Muslim faith) and we go to a Hindu festival together??? Odd…I still haven’t worked out why he took me there, especially as he didn’t really seem to want to be there. But for me it was a nice change from the touristy side of Goa.

The following day I attend a Roman Catholic Baptism of the daughter of a bar owner that I had befriended. I felt extremely privileged to have been invited to such occasion, and it was interesting to witness a Goan christening. The Christening was attended by an unusual mix of family friend and Westerners. Including some less obvious choices of who to invite to your daughters christening; A staunchly religious Russian tattooist who’s into thrash metal, A Swedish Alcoholic, and a Heroin addict from Birmingham, who talks like Ozzy Osborne. An Interesting mix to say the least. The after party at the family residence was a raucous affair with loads of great food, free flowing alcohol, and a crazy amount of noisy fire crackers and ‘Indian Dynamite bombs’.

On the following day I arrange accommodation back in Vagator for myself and for Paul and Karen (good friends arriving from Brighton) and move. That night I meet two lap dancers from Nottingham (Nice!!!.. ok a bit brain dead actually!!) and later find myself in a situation where a local bar owner is trying to set me up with what I suspect is an Indian prostitute. I make my polite excuses and leave. (awkward!!) Traveling alone you never know what each day has in store for you.

When Paul and Karen arrive we spend a further week in North Goa, touring around from beach to beach, and catching up over nights eating and drinking and generally warming up for the festive season. We decide to move back down to the south of Goa (Palolim beach, Yeh!!) for the Christmas period.

Christmas and New Year on Palolim beach

Back in my coco hut I feel quite at home. Life in the few days leading up to Christmas involves lounging on the beach, eating too much and generally being bloody lazy. We did pluck up enough energy to go on a dolphin seeing boat trip, but this turned out to be a little disappointing as the dolphins seemed to be in a lazy festive mode as well. We only saw a handful at long range. Apparently on a normal day you see hundreds and they come right up to the boat.

Christmas eve we attend a party at a venue on the beach. We stumble home along the beach at about 6.00am and wake in the midday heat on Christmas day. Christmas day we exchanged gifts (I got a hammock) and spend the rest of the day lazing on the beach, playing Frisbee and swimming. I didn’t miss the rain once! For Christmas dinner we had a table on the beach and were served whole kingfish cooked in the tandori oven. Mmmmmmmm...

That night we re-run the fun and went to another party. This time Paul and Karen (the light weights disappeared to bed at about 5am. I stay talking nonscence to some girls I met ‘Fiona and Madi’ until about 8.00am. The walk down the beach fat that time felt quiet shameful, people were up and about having breakfast and going for their morning run and there’s me stumbling back home….

We wake on Boxing day to the devastating news that the tsunami has hit. The whole atmosphere changes and most people stand eyes fixed to the TV as the news unfolds. As the day progresses people start noticing strange tidal movements. That day we watch the tide come right in and out about 30 times or more. The look of horror on the locals faces does little to calm peoples nerves.

About 10pm boxing day night we were walking down the beach when all of a sudden the tides rushes in really fast, as it approaches we speed up our walk and take refuge on a raised level where coco huts stand. The tide comes right up to the wall taking out a number of beach restaurants and ruining a few peoples evening meals, then it just subsides again leaving everyone a little on edge. Later we realise how quiet the beach is. The following morning we discover that the tidal surge caused mass hysteria and panic in the village and most people fled the resort to higher grounds taking refuge in police stations, schools and fire stations. It turns out the only people who stayed were those who were actually on the beach at the time and saw what had happened.

Life on Palolim beach got back to normal and the as the build up to New Years Eve took hold. People still keeping an eye on the News, but generally start relaxing again.

New Years Eve and another late night party. Again I end up staying late talking rubbish to Fiona and Madi (something we discover we are all very good at). The party was great but towards the end it all got a bit strange. The three of us sit in horror at the strangeness around us. Directly in front of where we are sitting a German guy who fancies himself a bit is having dance off competitions with Indians. To our left another bloke is laying in a hammock shouting obscenities, beyond him another idiot wearing sarong and pashmina is waving his pink pashmina around as if its a super hero's shawl. Behind me we notice a middle aged German man having a loud three way conversation with himself, and to top it all off beyond him there was an Indian guy laying face down in the sand trying to swim. We all look at each other and decide it well past our leaving time and make for the exit. Its the walk of shame time again and this time its gone 9.00am. We feel particularly naughty!!

Paul Karen and I stay in Palolim a further two days and on the morning of the 3rd of January we decide its time to move on. We are going to move South into the state of Karnataka.