Colva to Gokarna, Karnataka, India – Woke up at 7 a.m. to pack our bags and get out to the road to catch the bus to Margao where we could get a bus to Gokarn, Gokarna to the Indians, the next beach town we have to visit. We met a couple from Edinburgh out on the curb who are also heading the same way, so we sat there with their island of stuff waiting for the bus. The bus came barreling down the road, turned around the traffic circle we were waiting, and raced back down the street the way it had come, not bothering to stop for the group of people and all of their stuff. We then had to hire a mini van to take us to Margao for the next leg of our journey. There were not any buses to Gokarn until later in the day, so we got the bus to Karwar, the biggest town near Gokarn.
Jumped on the bus and took another one of those tropical Indian bus rides where the driver just floors the gas pedal and all of the passengers bounce around on the minimally padded seats. I took a seat next to the emergency door thinking that I would make a quick exit in the event of a crash, but the Karnataka bus company foiled my plan by forgetting to install a door handle on the emergency door, typical.
Arrived in Karwar, a town not known for anything, save the 60 cows always in the middle of the street blocking traffic. We were told the bus to Gokarn was not leaving for four hours, so we just sat under an awning on the street watching life go by. I will say that at this point we had not been to a town that had so many cows as this place. I entertained myself by walking around, taking photos of city life while Rich and Kate fought off the ubiquitous beggars. The bus finally came and we were off to Gokarn on our local’s bus packed with people. This bus ride was rather like one of the ones in Malawi where the bus stops every 50 meters to let another local off right outside their respective houses.
After a few hours of that, we finally arrived in Gokarn at 5 p.m. This town was amazing, not a lot of modernism, and not spoiled by too many tourists. This was the India I traveled so far to see. We got off the bus and were suddenly immersed in the craziness of this village. Men dressed only in their white dhotis with the white lines painted across their foreheads, would walk by and stare at us. Some of the shopkeepers screamed welcome while others just stood around watching us. We gathered our stuff and started walking down the street towards the beach. This city had the most amazing feeling to it. The city consists of one long narrow street with absolutely no side streets jetting off of it. The only other time I felt like this is at Disneyland or the Warner Brothers’ movie, backlot where you do not feel as the witcher walking past is real. The narrow street, the people everywhere, do not forget the cows, the 25 feet high tower ______ 329% in the street ready to be pulled through town during the festival honoring Ganesh. None of it felt real. It looked and felt like a movie set.
We followed the street to the beach where one of the local lads led us to a place on the beach where we could stay. This Indian man has built a small complex similar to Mrs. Roches in Nairobi where people can stay. Rich stayed with the packs while Kate and I went and checked out the room they were offering.
The owner met us and explained he would not have a free room until the next morning, but we could stay in a different room tonight. At that, he led us over to a long rectangle jetting off the side of the house made out of dry woven palm fronds, which looked like a life-size picnic basket. He pulled open the first panel. We looked inside and saw a 7 feet x 10 feet room complete with beaten earth and floor and walls made out of the same material as the door. I managed to just open it. I stepped into the room and got the same feeling, I imagine, Bob Denver had the first time he walked on to the Gilligan’s Island set. This was real life Gilligan’s Island. The ceiling was held up by a single pole holding up a large mat of the fronds and there was a 3-feet high mud wall along the back of the hut. There were tons of normal balanced vertically on top of the wall blocking out the light from the ceiling up to the top of the wall. It was really wild.
The room was going to cost us the exorbitant amount of 10 rupees or 30 cents for the night for all three of us, mattresses 15 cents extra. Then, when we moved to one of the rooms with the mud and brick walls, the rent would go up to 20 rupees bonus bargain. Kate and I both accepted and went to go and get Rich and put our stuff in our “room.” The room really was more like a life-size basket with the door being just one panel tied with a string to a pole. It was a way too cool.
We changed, then found the path leading into town. The great thing about the city planning of Gokarn or lack thereof is that there is only one road, you cannot get lost, not even if you tried because there are not any side streets. We made our way through the various turns in the road, passing temples, curio shops, and chai (tea) stores in search of a restaurant for dinner. We had been visited by the jay fay earlier, so when we hit the main drag where the street was really narrow with the strings of dried flowers hung over the road, it really felt like a Warner movie set. We had our awesome 8 rupee, 24-cent thalis for dinner before getting really tired from our journey and heading back to the room for some sleep. Little did we know, but Gokarn is a total hippie colony on the beach. The flower children of the 60s all made it here when they were booted out of San Francisco and London. As we were walking around, I heard one tenant ask another dude, “Have you started your painting yet?” “Yea! but it is not going too well” was the response. I did not laugh out loud. I found Rich talking to this woman 35 years old approximately who is telling him the story about how she joined a Hare Krishna Colony for two years when she was 18. People like that. Too funny that would stumble into this place.