calangute and baga

Strewn along the west coast of India, Calangute and Baga are amongst Goa's most popular beach resorts. Some say they are India's answer to the Costa Del Sol, such is the scale of development and the number of tourists who visit yearly. The beach at Calangute and Baga is covered in yellow sand, fringed by palm trees, and stretches about three kilometres long. At the moment the Arabian Sea is fierce and blasts hard against the shore. It's not safe to go swimming at this time of year. Calangute, the larger of the two settlements, is on the south end of the beach and Baga sits to the north. There are no end of restaurants, hotels, shops, and travel agencies, but it's relatively quiet at this time of year, and many of these are closed up or being renovated ready for peak season. It rains every few hours, sometimes torrential rain, but with a bit of judgment this is made manageable and can be navigated around. The temperature is high but cools each time the rain begins.

I'm staying in Calangute, having a rest and not doing too much. Yesterday I walked all the way along the beach to Baga, and then back along the interior Calangute-Baga Road. I met a few people along the way including a man and his wife who were keen to talk with me despite the fact that they did not speak English and I could not speak their language (Hindi I think?). Even so, we exchanged many words in our respective languages and they seemed to very much enjoy our chat. I'm not sure what I agreed to or gave the impression of. Who knows? After they had wandered off - looking strangely satisfied - I continued north along the sand. A bit further up I almost did a 'Neil Kinnock' into the sea (remember that time he fell over with Glenda?). A wave came in further and more quickly than I had thought it would. I ended up with water up to my knees, but just about managed not to fall over or - more importantly - get my camera wet.

Mainly I've been relaxing and resting. That's what you do by the beach isn't it? I've also finished reading Milosevic by Adam LeBor, a book which has been at the bottom of my bag since my arrival in India. The story has proved engrossing but incredibly complicated: Serbs, Croats, Bosnian-Serbs, Serb-Croats, Croat-Bosnians, Kosovan-Albanians, Bosnian-Muslims, all making and breaking alliances and turning back and forth on one another as the former Yugoslavia self-destructed. I can't pretend I've understood all I've read but I do at least have somewhat of a better idea about Sloba, the region, and the 'ethnic cleansing' that ripped the Balkans apart during the 1990s. Did you know that Slobodan Milosevic was a big fan of Celine Dion? He used to play her music on a portable CD player in his cell at the Hague. How suitable that his taste in music was also criminal*. Anyway, will stay here in Calangute for the rest of today. Tomorrow I leave for my final destination: Mumbai.

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* Had he been more in touch with the culture of his country perhaps he might have played Serbian 'Turbo-Folk' instead.