So I've gone to Gokana by accident. A couple of nights ago I found myself trekking over a huge expanse of sand with two Israilis, headed towards the promised land of the Blue Seahorse, feeling a little Moses-esque, and the idea of Gokana was being thrown around. Next thing I know, it's 7.30 in the morning, I haven't slept a wink, and we're piling our bags on top of a taxi to the train station. Wonderful.
It's far quieter here than Goa, and more importantly I actually feel like I'm back in India again. Goa has it's own little micro-culture- the Portuguese vibes, resident hippy populous and endless bars. It was fun, really, really fun, but a few things left a slightly funny taste in my mouth. I shall elaborate.
First of all I'm getting very confused about India's culture regarding sex. On the one hand it seems like quite conservative. At least on the surface level, values of modesty and chastity are far more prevalently observed than in Europe, where they have to all intents and purposes ceased to exist. Girls and boys alike are encouraged to cover up the most arbitrary parts of their anatomy in the interests of modesty- obviously in the Islamic community, but also in the Hindu majority and Christians dotted about the place. This is the first place I've seen Indian looking girls wearing bikinis, and not speaking in English accents
Men and women don't really kiss in the street, or even hold hands. That's a practice more reserved for best buddies, although all the guys I travel with seem unwilling to embrace this particular practice. 99% of Bollywood films and pop music videos seem to be about love. Simple, monogamous, heterosexual love. None of the 'player culture' that has an equal standing in the west seems to exist here- it's all very idealistic and romantic. But that said the loving couple never even kiss- ever! It's implied instead, as they lean in and rest their foreheads on each others, pausing to stare amorously it each other with shit eating grins to fade. Ultra conservative.
So this is the same culture that inspired the Karma Sutra? The most elaborate and famous celebration of communal sex in the world? Inspired whole Ashrams in mountain retreats where the residents do little else than attempt to fornicate their way to enlightenment? (I have not been fortunate enough to visit one- next time.) What?!
So here's my personal experience with this conflict in Indian attitudes towards sex. I should stress, most of the local guys I've met out here are not in any way confused or weird about sexual practices, (no more than me anyway...) but there is some of that going around. So I'm having a night swim with Jazz- honestly just swimming about... no really I was, and we see a shadowy figure approach us from the shore. Assuming its Retters, we shout to greet him, but as he approaches we realise it is instead some Indian dude we don't know.
"You alright mate?" I inquire, but am answered only with a smile. He then rises to his feet to reveal a little tent in his swim shorts. Jazz laughs, "blimey," I cry, thinking "Jesus what a weirdo," but our little friend is not done. Swimming around us he starts cracking one off quite blatantly under the water. I mean what the HELL. We run out in horror and relate this to our friends on the beach, who are amused and appalled in equal measure, and I spend the next half an hour ruing how my shock prevented me from teaching the little voyeur a lesson. I am not am object!
Half an hour later I get my chance. The weird, little, fucking sex pest comes and sits next to Jazz in the circle and starts trying to chat to us. Returning from the bar to find him there, I was not impressed, and he was given sound reason to address his behavior.
Still though, you have to marvel at the stunning misapprehensions that made the poor little bastard think that was an appropriate way of acting. I have heard other disconcerting stories, one from a Swedish girl about being awoken on a train by a light being shone in her face and several Indian guys crowded around touching her legs. Another one again from the trains involves a dude having a quite blatant hand party, whilst staring steadfastly at a girls sleeping friend.
Once again, in case I get more messages telling me that I'm a massive racist, I'm not writing this down to form a generalization of your average Indian's behavior, but it is nevertheless going on in a pretty widespread way, especially around beaches. The culture clash seems to have led to some fairly massive misapprehensions amongst more backward communities, and it's a bit fucked up. I am not an object!
One thing I'm finding very hard with India in general is that it's very hard to pin down a place. To neatly and concisely say "I'm in this place, the vibe is like this blah blah..." This is a task I could undertake with much more ease in places like Nottingham or Poole, or even abroad in say Courchevel or Durban. Yet everywhere in India you are confronted with such stunning and vibrant contrast, it's basically impossible to write about it neatly at all. There's nothing neat about it!
This is possibly why Lonely Planet India is so irredeemably shit. Seriously that's ten quid I could have spent on... well anything else... glass anal beads (not for sharing)... just don't bother. That's a massive in joke btw, I've tried to avoid them but like this one. I'm fairly sure my mum won't.
Anyway- The hippy culture that's made so much noise about in Goa also began to grate on me towards the end. Now I love a good rave, don't get me wrong, but for me it's a kind of escapism, like most things I enjoy doing. You jump around, have a nice time, behave like a moron, then in the morning you return to reality. If you stay in the escapist paradise for too long, you will eventually lose your grip on reality all together.
Now I've never got the whole fire dancing thing- you know when you're at a rave/ party and these people just emerge from the ground with flaming balls on ropes, and start throwing them rhythmically around, like they're possessed by a demon of fiery lameness. I don't get it. Anyone who can be amused for that long by what is essentially burning ball on a string is clearly an idiot, possessing of a mentality somewhere between a shit pyromaniac and a kitten playing with a ball of string.
There are people that can spend entire seasons doing this- no brainpower involved, no challenge of any kind, or anything remotely interesting, just endlessly banging drums in a circle, taking obscene amounts of psychedelic drugs, listening to questionable trance and swaying about like a restless twat with some fire on stick/ rope. These people are clearly idiots.
Yes it's fun for a bit, but for God's sake head back to reality at some point! Because this isn't reality, it's Goa. Reality is fairly tiresome and undeniably nice to escape from, but you can't live in this ridiculous delusion forever. Well actually you can, but you shouldn't, because it makes you an idiot.
Plus if you stay away from reality like this for too long, you will eventually lose your grip on in it altogether. Goa is littered with the ghastly evidence of the future that awaits such idiotic life choices. 50 plus year old guys, wandering aimlessly about on their own, tripping most of the time, dressed up like their at some perpetual Glastonbury and spouting endless bollocks at whoever is unfortunate enough to be listening.
It's really sad, and kind of scary. My greatest fear is losing my mind, and these drug addled losers in life, who somehow, inexplicably manage to support themselves, are a constant reminder that not all anti drugs talk is fear mongering.
In Arambol I met a Dutch guy called Eric, known as Eric the Terrible. He walked about in a lime green sarong, that at night he turned into a hoody-type-thing, black leather, studded gloves, massive sunglasses and a stick, with various appendages strapped to it. Amongst these treasures was a little horn, the kind you may find on a really old bike, using which he claimed to be a able to speak to dolphins. Amoungst his other claims were such feats as diving deep into the ocean within the lungs of a whale. He and the plot, hadn't seen each other in a very long time.
Eric is by no means an isolated case. Goa is littered with these remnants of the hippy scene. Guys who just didn't know when to call it a day and head back to reality, eventually losing all semblance of sanity whatsoever. Then again I strongly suspect they started out as fire juggling fuckwits in the first place, so I don't know.
Maybe that's the source of my natural aversion to fire dancing. I see it as symbolic of getting far too into raving, such that you are no longer having a brief foray into lunacy, but dedicating a significant portion of your time to it. Bad things happen to people that do this- put the fire down and get a job. Or at least just leave Goa.
So what conclusions am I to draw from this? I come to believe more and more with every passing day that life resembles one big process of elimination. A series of trial and error experiments that begins with birth and end in death. Something is very wrong with the culture that has produced men like Eric, so my advice is this. Visit Goa, it's amazing. Have fun, then leave, with a sobering wisdom lingering regarding what could happen to you if you never left. And if you're really unlucky, ghastly images of some little fuck cracking one off in your direction underwater. I am not an object!
I'll leave you with only one statement relating to my last night in Goa- a story for another time. God bless Australia.
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