Goa Freaks: My Hippie Years in India

to a lot of walking. It's the only way to get around. Come on, come on. Let's go.'

Shouldering canvas bags, they locked the bus, and we set out in the sun. Exhilarated, I marched ahead while Tom and Julian dragged their feet heavily through the sand. I could have zigzagged through the shade, but I didn't.

'I have a friend here in Baga,' I announced an hour later, turning backwards to face them. Tom's nose and cheeks glistened red, and a glow of sweat hung from his chin. He wasn't enjoying the hike one little bit. 'Hey, did you know Goa has eighty-two miles of coast?' I added. 'There's the Baga River!'

Uh-oh. The tide was in. We couldn't wade across now.

'Do you expect us to, you know, swim?' Tom grumbled when he saw it.

Undaunted, I turned my crew inland and hoped I'd run into the ferry I'd heard was upriver somewhere. After a detour through what looked like a swamp, I did. A canoe. An old, shabby canoe on the other side of the river. We waved and shouted, but the ancient man in the stern didn't notice. Tom cursed and gave me a displeased look. Finally, the Goan saw us and pushed a pole to drift the canoe over to our side.

'Are you sure this is, you know, safe?' Tom asked, appraising the beat-up boat. 'I still think we should have, you know, taken the bus.'

'Of course it's safe,' I answered, not totally convinced.

I sank my bare feet in mud to climb into the decrepit raft. ???oozed into Tom's sandals and stained the bottom of his jeans. As we took seats one in front of the other, we watched the bottom of the boat fill with water.

'If we tip over, my passport will get, you know, ruined. There must be a better way to get there,' Tom said, still complaining. What a whiner.

The man poled us across. Barefoot, Julian sat in the front and trailed his arm over the side. At least HE wasn't objecting to this adventure. When we reached the other side, Tom looked relieved.

'Now we go up,' I announced.

By the time we arrived at the top of the hill, Tom was bathed in sweat. He threw me more nasty looks.

'There it is!' I said, jumping excitedly. 'That's Anjuna. Isn't it beautiful? I five halfway to the far hill. About there is Norwegian Monica's house. Oh, and see that roof sticking out of the trees? That's Bombay Brian's house. He had a great party the other night. Must have been two hundred people squeezed inside. Over there is Kurt's Tree. Kurt's been living under that tree for years, and over that way is Eight-Finger Eddy's Porch. It's actually a ruin, but a zillion people are always hanging out there, and sometimes Eddy hosts a flea market. Hey, where did Tom go?'

I found him in the shade sitting on a boulder. 'Is there a place nearby where we can, you know, get a drink?' he asked.

'Sure. We'll stop at Joe's. Here, let me carry that.'

I brought them to Joe Banana's, where we collapsed on a bench. As we drank our milkshakes, I couldn't help comparing him to the Anjuna people. Look at that watch! At least Julian had removed his.

'What's that?' Tom asked someone, nodding at a rolled, vegetable looking thing.

'It's a  beedie. Indian tobacco wrapped in a leaf. Want one?'

'No, I don't smoke. I was just, you know, curious.'

'Can I try one?' asked Julian.

Oh, no! How embarrassing. Now everybody would think we were three tourists. 'Come on,' I said. 'Let's go. We're almost there.'

I led them along paths I now knew by heart. I stopped and pointed out houses, wells, bushes, rock, buffalo.  '. . .  And that's the Monkey chai shop, there's really a monkey there. . . . Oh, and beware of those thorny plants. One took a bite of my velvet dress the other night. Look, look! You can still see a piece of material on it! That's my dress!'

We were all half-dead by the time we reached the house, but I forced them on a tour. 'This is the kitchen. Please notice the hanging basket. You must bang your food from the ceiling or within minutes an ant will zero in on it.'

'Where's the bathroom?'

I slid open the wooden bolt and swung wide the kitchen door as if unveiling the Mona Lisa. 'Ta-daaa,' I chanted. 'There it is. Down in the well.'

'Where's the, you know, door?' asked Tom.

'No door. Many toilets are like that, only closed on three sides. You'll get used to it. Wait till you see the pig rooting around under you, waiting to be fed. That's the taxing part. The pig's so disappointed when you only pee.'

Julian placed his bag in a small room, while Tom brought his to the big one. For a while the three of us chatted as the sun dipped and coloured the sky outside the window. Tom turned me off. I didn't want to be with him. I didn't like his voice. I didn't like his smile. I didn't like his shoulders. His every move grated on my nerves. But Julian, smaller and thinner, charmed me. Curls fell over his face as he lay sideways on his elbow and chased a dying bug around the candle. I liked his English accent.

We went to bed early. 'No,' I told Tom. 'I'm not in the mood.'

The next morning Tom took the bus to the town of Panjim for repairs. He'd be gone overnight. Glad to see him go, I brought Julian to the south end beach.

'Hi, Monica. This is Julian.' I introduced him around and watched him undress. Mmmmmm. Very nice. How do I accomplish this? I smiled at him.

Around noon, the hot sun urged the sun bathers into the sea. I followed Julian in and threw seaweed at him. It clung to his neck, a slimy strand of it sticking on his cheek. Laughing, he threw it back.

That night Julian and I sat in my room and talked. He smoked a  beedie. I  watched his hand pick at lumps of wax around a candle. He stuck a finger in the melted liquid and let it harden on his nail. The curl hung over his eyes. He wants to go to Amsterdam in the spring, he was saying. I leaned into a cushion and stared at him. He was only inches away. 'I don’t have an apartment in Amsterdam, since I spend most of the time on the motorway,' he continued. 'I stay with friends or sleep in the Sunshine Bus office.'

I grinned at the cute way he said 'office,' the 'o' like a balloon shaped object popping out his mouth. He looked at me.

'Why don't you sleep in here tonight?' I suggested.

He fetched his sleeping bag and zipped it to mine. We climbed in and faced each other. The oversized shadow of a moth bounced across the wall in the candlelight. Tom's presence grew in the space between us. I crossed the ghost and touched Julian. His arm was soft with light hairs. Our heads moved together, and our bodies met.

When Tom returned the next day, it didn't take him long to figure out what happened. He moved his bag into the other room. Julian stayed with me.

*

One day, news came of a party at Dayid and Ashley's house on the northern end of Anjuna. I'd seen Dayid and Ashley on the beach and at a flea market. They were Super Couple. Dayid, an Australian, sported a drooping moustache and very long hair in brown and silver streaks. He wore silver belts around his waist and turquoise jewellery on his wrists and neck. I especially remembered Ashley from the flea market. Canadian, blonde, and sleekly beautiful, she'd paraded topless in a wispy skirt and floppy hat. People raved about the interior decoration of Dayid and Ashley's house, and I'd heard stories about the party they'd had the year before. Everyone expected this year's bash to be no less spectacular. News of the gala event travelled the beaches of Goa.

That night, I took care dressing. With imported food colouring, I dyed the bottom half of my hair blue, something I hadn't done since Amsterdam. My eyes sparkled with red glitter. Tom, Julian, and I set out.

Unfamiliar with the northern end of the beach, we stumbled through the paddy fields. Mounds bordered each family's field and had to be clambered over. The moon hadn't come out yet, and our flashlights and coconut lamps lit only slivers of the dry, cracked earth. After climbing up and over a countless number of mounds, we were no longer sure in which direction we were headed. When we finally dragged ourselves out of the fields, we were lost.  Which way's north? Where had that path gone?

Who knows how long we'd have blundered through the underbrush if we hadn't run into other people headed for the party. More familiar with the terrain, they led us to a paved road. A road?