Megapost from Agra.

So I haven't really found time to write a decent post as yet, so over that last few days I've been drafting a little tale of what we got up to in Anjuna, Goa. It might not make for Pulitzer prize winning reading but I hope you'll enjoy a little incite into what we've been up to!

Goa has definitely been the right place to get our feet wet with the world of traveling. From the quaint and cultural Panjim district where we spent a quite few days exploring the sites, we packed up and headed a little further north to Anjuna and the surrounding beaches. It was only the day before we left that I realised that this was the very same beach where the entire Scarlett tragedy began. It is all still very much in the newspapers, mainly pertaining to tales of police incompetence! More on the local police later...

Anyhow we arrived at the Anjuna Inn Sunday lunchtime. It was lovely inexpensive, well equipped guesthouse complex just around the corner from the beach. By well equipped I mean a room with Air Conditioning, hot shower, loo roll, ceiling fan and Cartoon Network. The hotel facilities included a pool with surrounding loungers, restaurant, internet and laundry.

On our first trip to the beach we wandered through the impromptu market street where we were immediately set upon by the stall holders, all women and all brandishing their best mockney accents for the sake of these bright white londoners! After fighting our through with promises to return later, we made it to the beach. Although not a huge beach it is long enough to accommodate about 10-12 restaurant/bars, many of which provided sun loungers and table service out front. That first afternoon we grabbed a couple of drinks, kicked back watching the people and absorbed the chilled out atmosphere. On the way back through the stalls (we'd yet to discover the route that circumnavigated them) I made a point of proving my rookie traveler status by handing over 500RP (5 quid) for a pair of semi transparent 2nd hand swim shorts. After securing the swim shorts we stopped to get towels at a stall out front of the hotel. The lady was also reading from the same page as the other chap and at first asked for 600RP (6 quid) per towel. After getting wise to the 'shaft the fresh tourist' game that was being paid, we handed over 600 for the pair, said our pleasant goodbyes and headed for the hotel pool feeling our credibility had been partly restored.

That evening we returned to the beach bar we'd visited earlier but this time we went armed with empty stomachs and torches. On the advice of everyone we'd spoken to regarding India we stuck to our vegetarian diet and enjoyed a lovely meal and a few kingfisher beers while watching the stars. The walk back proved interesting. Several beers, considerable darkness and hight tide all contrived to cause us drama, however we were prepared and used our torches to light the way. Adams headmounted LED light proved sufficient so we made minimal use of my lightsabre power beam (leaving gift), which wielded enough light to divert both the coastal shipping and blind anyone within a mile radius.

Breakfast at the Anjuna Inn never failed to be a pain in the ass. Trying to get across that you wanted a cup of tea each, 2 bowls of cornflakes and a plate of pancakes proved too much for the waiting staff. It was the same for all the guests as looks of exasperation spread from face to face. Despite this, it was nice to sit and read the local paper with its pioneering use of words that not even the English use anymore!

Our first full day there was spent exploring on a couple of scooters we hired for 250RP each. I shotgunned* the best of the two for which karma would make me pay a few days later. First off we headed up the coast to Vagator where we had our first encounter with a coach-full of Indian tourists. These chaps I found difficult to interpret. I'll use this first group to illustrate an example. They seemed preoccupied with looking cool, each had their cameraphone, silver chain, D&G sunglasses, Diesel Jeans and overly molested hair. They swaggered round with cigarettes lit like extras in a John Wayne Western, perching on the rocks and drinking cans of Fosters whilst listening to tinny music from their speakerphones. An educated guess was that they were trying to emulate elements of Western culture they'd been exposed to on TV and let me tell you, what passes as Western culture on Indian TV is very warped!
*The term shotgun refers calling for use of something first i.e. shotgun first in the shower.

Anyway after removing ourselves from Vagator we headed up the hill to Fort Chopura which was once manned by the Portugese during their tenure of Goa. After scrambling over the baking rocks to get to the fort we were greeted by a 'tourist representative' named Raj who gave us a brief rundown of the history and took a couple of photos of us. He seemed a decent enough chap so after we explored a little we headed back over and bought a couple of mango juices for his troubles. After scrambling back down to our mopeds in the intense heat we bumped into a couple of Scandinavians in need of sunscreen. For the use of this they imparted us with some knowledge on the other beaches in the area. Apparently Baga was a bit more lively but was pack full of "fat white whales" as they so eloquently put it! Not to be deterred we headed down through the narrow, winding, palm tree lined roads. It was of course as stated and sitting in the beachside bar you could have easily been in Clacton or the Costa Del Sol.

The next couple of days we made full use of the beach and its bars. Swimming in the Arabian Sea was amazing. It was just like being a kid again, riding the waves and bodysurfing! We spent the rest of the time laying on the sound loungers listening to music and reading. One of our evenings was spent at the Sea Queen restaurant along from our hotel, where we ate local Kingfish and watched Casino Royale on large screen.

Wednesday was the final Anjuna market and everyone was desperate to sell their wares. The market itself was a huge collection of stalls of people from all over India and Nepal, all selling the same things, pashminas, jewelery, CD's and all sorts of tourist bits and bobs. Needless to say the market was a bit intense so we bailed out and headed for the beach armed with 2 chillout CD's and a new pair of flowery swimshorts (far cheaper than the first).

That same evening we decided to visit Paradiso Club next door to the lovely Zoori's beach front restaurant we'd been eating at. We had a few drinks before hand and then wandered over, paid our 600RP entrance fee (including free drinks all night). The club itself was like a set of caves painted white with a dancefloor in the middle and terraces overlooking the beach at the back. Needless to say we made full use of the bar and wandered out at some point in the morning, a little worse for wear! When we got in, Ad passed out straight away and I stayed up watching The Hunt for Red October, which takes on a whole new dimension when you're drunk out of your face!

We spent the next day recovering on the beach and decided to hire another set of mopeds the following day to explore further south. After quickly discovering our mopeds were heaps of shit (Karma), we filled up and headed for the nearest ATM at Calangute. At some point just before reaching the town we were flagged down by two motorcycle police officers who were pulling over every fresh looking tourist passing by. As we pulled in we gleaned enough from a conversation occuring with another young chap that there was nothing 'official' about this police stop. As we pulled up a short, rotund, badly toothed officer asked for our licenses whilst his taller, better presented counterpart finished dealing the other tourist. When he finally sauntered over we were definitely aware that all was not cool, he began examining each license for a good minute apiece and then entered into a monologue about how our licenses didnt cover scooters. Now this may or not be the case although Im sure they did, so he gave us an 'option'. Apparently the official ticket fine was 1500RP but he then proceeded to ask us how much we had on us. Being skint at that point, hence the trip to Calangute, I abdicated responsibility of our freedom to Ad who luckily had 1000RP on him. After accepting this with some amiable chit chat they bid us farewell. Ad's scooter started and off he went, however I had to sit there for a further 30 seconds/eternity while mine refused to start. When it finally did, I bid the officers a sarcastic 'have a nice day' and gunned it round the bend.

After we grabbed some cash, we headed down to Fort Aguda where the day threatened to take a turn for the worse after I left my key in the scooter. Quickly realising my mistake we started up and rode off to refuel and post a package I'd been intending to post since my first day in Goa. The post office was tiny and the clerk seemed most put out by my enquiries. Fingers crossed it arrives! We then grabbed a drink on Candolim beach overlooking the grounded tanker 'River Princess' which was just like being on the set of Waterworld! Having put a little too much in our tanks we decided to burn some off by heading North to Morjim beach. Our route obviously circumnavigated the spot where we were earlier stopped and it ended up being a very picturesque little scoot. By the time we reached the beach at Morjim I was in dire need of some moisture, so I jumped right in, shorts and all! Now 2 days earlier 3 people had drowned at this beach and from the pull of the current I could feel why. We didnt stay long and headed back to our own Anjuna beach for one last evening swim. There's definitely something magic about swimming in the calm of sunset!

Right, I think thats far more than enough from me. If you required an adrenaline shot or some form of medical treatment to revive from the coma this post induced, then please don't send me the bill! Next post will be short sweet and only the details ;) Thats all for now!