Goan, Goan, Goan.

So, after my mum's comment that I seem to be drinking my way around the globe I head to Goa and more specifically to a 24hr bar where bottles are 50p and half that at happy hour. Needless to say; most of my hours were exceedingly happy. It's in this bar that I've striven to enrich myself culturally; meeting a group of fellow Brits and engaging in such civilised behaviour as Palm tree dancing, spoon balancing and having my flops used to spank random gentlemen ( I was neither the slapper nor the slappee!) As is assured to happen when you drink with people named Ginger Joe and Noodles; the finishing point for each evening crept closer and closer to 6am.
I've also met some interesting characters in the form of Havi; a Spaniard starting a craze in neck piercing, Dr. Phil; not a doctor of course but a Canadian surfer dude who has perfected (through constantly being connected to the tail end of a spliff) the arts of lazy enthusiasm (like, yeah man, I'll be totally up for that in a few hours. Whadya say I roll a little one?) and making everything seem like a conspiracy through random emphasis and "inverted comma fingers". Impossible not to like someone like that.
There was Craig; at first appearances your typical Ozzy bloke who then surprised traders by bargaining in Hindi to great financial gain - good little move. And then there was John; an Englishman who had been drawn to Sweden. A shrewd manoeuvre if you've seen the female of the Swedish species. It's John who I can blame for the various Transformeresque noises that emanated from my body whilst undertaking the ancient art of making fat westerners suffer (otherwise known as Yoga). Now, I'm sure that Yoga is good for you - painful exertions always seem to be. But, I'm also sure that the little bendy Guru teaching us was having a private little giggle as the class began with what seemed remarkably like a slow motion YMCA. And, try this one at home; sit down, cross your legs, put your arms through the gaps in your legs to your elbows, reach forward and bring your palms to your ears. Oh, and remember to focus on your breathing! Bloody hell!! I'm now on my back, knotted like a pretzel and far closer to kissing my own arse than I ever wished to be.
This was my quest to balance out the alcohol consumption. I also tried my hand at Kayaking both in a time travelling trip 2km up a river (felt very Apocalypse Now even if I'm in the wrong country) and in the sea trying to surf the waves in. the latter mainly involved inhaling a lot of sea water or face planting straight into the sand but I'm sure it all looked manly and cool to the girls on the beach.
Anyway, this was Goa; stay in a hut on the beach, a good meal is 2quid and the beer is cheap. It's all too easy. I've met people that have been here for yonks and it would be easy for days to slip into weeks. So, before that happens I'm heading off the beaten track a little. Besides, looks like I'll be back at Xmas for more drinks with Ginger Joe.