For a few days during the trip, we stay in Anjuna, Goa, a small beach town where our hotel is located. Excited to explore, we rent a scooter, dull gold with an upbeat horn and enough room for Sebastian and I to sit comfortably. It is the fastest, cheapest and most popular form of transportation, especially among residents. Rickshaws are rare and the occasional cab appears too big for the narrow, snaking streets. We test out the bike as well as the local community, driving around, stopping at roadside shops and restaurants.
There is a definite vibe emanating from the combination of European ravers, long term hippies, midrange tourists and New-Ager baby boomers. We sense a condescending, almost standoff energy. Since we are not part of the inner circle, they do not acknowledge us in any way. Our smiles are unreturned. The friendliness and eagerness to talk and connect yield no response. We, apparently, are outsiders. What a stark difference from the love and acceptance I feel from the Indian people, who are not only curious, but also warm, welcoming, and friendly. Ironically, the vast majority of people inhabiting this place are white, not natives. They have no more right to enjoy Goa than anyone else and yet they exude such entitlement, possessive ownership of the land and lifestyle, not accepting anyone who does not wear raggedy, drooping clothes with knotty, unwashed hair. For a bunch of peace loving people, they definitely fail to show such emotions. There is also a flagrant drug culture here, permeating everything and everyone, causing a lethargic, muffled mentality and dawdling way of life. Everyone seems spaced out, burnt out, or high on some substance, despite their interests in yoga, vegetarianism, and meditation.
Sebastian and I refuse to let the low energy of unfriendliness dampen our spirits, so we become friends with the guests staying at our hotel. Since it is a very intimate place, with the communal pool and shared meals, we have numerous opportunities to interact. Andrea and Cory, two Canadians working in the public health industry, are on a trip from Mumbai for an international conference on cigarette smoking. They decided to fly to Goa for a mini vacation while in India. Both married and Cory with two children, they share great stories full with laughter, shock and jovialness. It is refreshing to meet interesting people with a similar sense of humor. Alex and Lauren, a late-20s couple from England, are on a month long trip to India, taking a break from their careers in the music industry. Similar to us, they loosely planned their adventure, exploring an array of different places. It is interesting to swap stories, great finds, and suggestions about this amazing country, comparing cities, foods, and experiences. Lastly, we acquaint ourselves with Allison, a mid-30s Scotland native serving as an ambassador in Kabul. Very unassuming and intelligent, she is obviously battle-tested, speaking of her bulletproof body amour and escapes to bomb shelters. Sebastian, as the group’s event planner, selects a local restaurant, aptly called Sublime, for a fantastic dinner of good food, drinks and conversation. From all different parts of the world, with all of our different reasons for being in India, as well as our varied backgrounds and beliefs, we are able to connect, to relate to each other, laughing as if we had been friends for years. There exists no separation, no boundaries at this international encounter. What an extraordinary gift traveling is, meeting and sharing with people from all over the globe, who we would have never met otherwise, planting the seeds for future friendships.
We practice yoga every morning, attending the class held at the Yoga Temple at the hotel. In the early light of the morning, with the wind fluttering through the leaves and the birds cheerfully chirping, we begin each practice with deep belly breathing and the mysterious beautiful Om. The classes are small, with less than five people and structured very similar to the kind I am accustomed to back home. Peter, the exceptional teacher, guides us through each pose, reminding us to breathe as he makes slight adjustments, intensifying each position. He is a living practitioner, full of intention and grace. No wasted movement or words, as everything is done with mindfulness and attention. It feels great to hang in downward dog, to meditate in the corpse pose, to breathe into the pigeon, creating space in my body, opening up tight muscles. It is the perfect start for a calm and balanced day, as Sebastian and I saunter back to our tent, relaxed, nimble and full of blithe.
Another memorable part of our Anjuna stay is riding the scooter through the maze of streets throughout the small town, shaded under the canopy of overgrown trees. A bit nerve-racking at first, Sebastian soon maneuvers the bike like a pro with the necessary confidence to handle the fast speeds of locals and the trepidation of tourist drivers. We check out local beaches, different tattoo shops, and all the great restaurants and boutiques. I opt never to drive, for I am content being the passenger, loosely holding on around his waist as the wind strokes my hair, tangling it into a big mess of curls. Shades on, I feel slightly mischievous by the rushing thrill of riding. Barefoot, I stretch my legs out, wild and free, as the air tickles my toes. No matter how many times we ride, my being always floods with thankfulness, for the beauty of this place, for the freedom I feel, for the love that beats in my chest.
On Wednesdays, Anjuna holds its ever-expanding outdoor market on the beach. We take a break from our poolside lounging and explore the clutter of stalls, one after the next, squeezed together in a jumble of goods, stretching out for what appears as an eternity. Over three hours, we browse different tents of Tibetan and Kashmiri traders, old tribal women, and authentic hippies. We wander around in awe at the sheer amount and variety of cultural crafts. It is a real Goan experience, as Sebastian bargains for jeweled masks and wooden rings, for hemp-sown bags and carved chess sets. We barely spend any money but purchase an assortment of treasures to bring home. I try to maintain my composure, my sheer giddiness at the amazing deals we receive, never having to pay full price for a single item!
Sebastian and I each receive an Ayurvedic massage, which uses techniques to improve circulation, relaxation, and elimination of toxins through pressure points and reflexology. With little massage experience, I did not know what to expect but am excitedly curious to find out. The massage is not held at a luxurious spa with ample privacy and fluffy white robes. Rather, it is in a shack, made of dried coconut tree bark with a dirt floor on the outskirts of Yoga Magic’s property. The masseuse, Krishna, is an older man, with missing teeth and a heavy accent. He wears a ragged white tank top over his protruding belly and khaki pants held up high on his waist. He has a crazy gleam in his eye, as if he knows the universal truths of this life. A green checkered cooking apron is his uniform while working. After a small chat, I learn that he is a practitioner for over 40 years, assuring me that God works through him, for he is nothing more than a vehicle for healing. As I lay on the table, open to receive this gift, I feel myself transform into putty. Similar to a typical massage, though he uses aromatic oils and the occasional pressing of a particular point sending shockwaves throughout my body. I feel energy pathways open up, the blood flow more smoothly, the tension and knots melt away. Krishna moves each limb through its range of motion, stretching muscles and cracking joints. An hour seems to pass in an instant and I remain still in a puddle of mud. I feel the effects of it throughout the next day, as my body detoxes, cleansing and purifying itself, leaving me feeling rejuvenated and a huge believer in Ayurvedic healing.
Although our short stay passes quickly, Sebastian and I are both ready to continue on with our adventure. We feel satisfied to spend time at a Yoga retreat but the lack of air conditioning and other modern amenities, in particular a toilet, begin to annoy rather than excite us. The novelty ends after the four sleepless nights of mosquito attacks and profuse sweating. We are ready to relax, to take it down a notch and unwind. We head to my most favorite place in the world…the beach!
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