If You Like Piña Coladas

Given that lying on a sunbed whilst people bring me things to insert into my facehole is my new favourite thing in the world I figured I should do it as much as possible because, y’know, practice makes perfect, so we joined Vikki and Jen and headed to a beach I forget the name of. I should have been shockingly hungover considering the ratio of the amount of Romanov I put away last night to my epic lightweight status but all of my basic motor functions seemed to be in check. I could form sentences and everything and not a single one of my organs was trying to kill me so I rewarded them with a piña colada because it’s compulsory to do so when sat on a beach and someone hands you a cocktail menu. Seriously. It’s the rules. It’s not entirely necessary to play “If You Like Piña Coladas” and sing along with the mrs whilst your friends kind of cringe in embarrassment though. That’s completely optional.

I love mountain views and gorgeous landscapes and all that, but I’m not gonna lie, I love views like this just as much.

For two chicks who “aren’t beach people” me and Tarrant seem to be doing the whole sandy oceany thing rather well. Tarrant goes crispy if she so much as thinks about the sun and I have a well documented aversion to the tiny particles of evil generally referred to as sand. There’s also the boredom factor. One time we went to a beach together we managed to lie still for half an hour before resorting to taking macro photos of each other’s face parts to kill time. We like doing stuff, and lying on a beach doesn’t count as “doing”. Lying on a beach whilst eating food and drinking beer however, that totes counts as “doing”. As long as you ensure a near constant supply of nibbles and drinks to keep you entertained in between ocean related frolicking you can officially consider it an activity as opposed to down time, and time really did just disappear. I swear beaches in India exist on a different time plain. If I sat on Brighton beach for an hour and just stared at the sea with a beer in my hand it’d be very pleasurable, but it’d be an hour. At Om Beach and Varkala and Goa, you spend an hour on the beach and would swear blind only 20 minutes had passed. Stop stealing my life, India!

Purveyors of essentials such as pakora and boozes and stuff.

After a hard day’s eating and drinking and gingerly brushing sand off the end of my bed it was time for some market action, especially since we missed out on Anjuna’s Flea Market because my guts were wringing themselves out, but tonight was the Arpora Saturday Night Market which isn’t just a market. It’s an experience. There are all of the stalls you’d expect at a Goan market including tea and spices that people shove spoonfuls of under your nose and you have to try not to accidentally inhale them, silver jewellery, statues and idols and clothing ranging from Indian to hippy. Of course I was drooling over some of the hippy stalls run by foreigners but the prices they were charging would have had even Cyberdog shuffling its feet and muttering, “Erm, guys? Do you not thing that’s a little bit pricey?”
There are shit loads of food stalls too, food from all over the world. It was like being at a food festival and I had to fight the urge to stuff as much into my facehole as my digestive system could handle or I would have had to be transported back to Panjim on the back of a flatbed.

It’s compulsory to drink beer really quickly when on the beach so it doesn’t go warm. Hey don’t look at me, I don’t make the rules.

There are bars and live music and DJs playing trance for people to dance to. Or shuffle from foot to foot too with their heads down and their arms in the air under a sign saying that the night market was a drug free zone. Uh huh. Surrrre it is. It’s an awesome night though. We didn’t buy anything because we’re not fucking millionaires but it’s a really cool place to spend a late evening, racing Russians to get a seat in the bar area and waiting for your last snack to digest slightly so you can fit some more momos or prawns wrapped in bacon in your stomach. And yes. I’ve had “If You Like Piña Coladas” stuck in my head pretty much aaaall night.

The night market. Which is a market. At night.

And in other news, every single mosquito in the state is making it their mission to emboss the entire fucking Ramayana onto Tarrant’s person in braille but the problem is she’s reacting to the bites. She doesn’t get the little welts, her left elbow is currently twice the size of her right one but like any mozzie bite they’re ridiculously satisfying to hack at. Hopefully the antihistamines she’s pumping her system full of will help. I don’t mind having a lumpy girlfriend but at this rate I’ll have a skinless one with missing limbs.

Panjim, Goa, India
Stayed at: A Pousada Guesthouse, Panjim, Goa

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