Red striped seashell

Upon arrival to Chapora the taxi stopped directly in front of my previous “home” here. It felt very natural to wander inside and get a room at this family home. Welcome is how I feel whenever I return to Chapora because the people in this village have impeccable memory. Having years in the interim since my last visit I felt for sure that I would not be recognized. But they do remember me and greet me with “hello you remembah me?” This is why I chose to begin my journey in this very place.

My room opens into a shared vestibule of a family of 3. From there the entryway opens to a view of a caged statue of Krishna. This courtyard is peaceful and I can spend many a contemplative moment playing with puppies or watching the small children entertain themselves with games they create. For example, the other day it appeared that they were experimenting with a book of matches and lighting various objects aflame.

The courtyard is shared by a house that is rented by several French people. One difference between the two homes with the shared courtyard is that the French house opens up to a Christian altar/cross.

The placid setting in trees is not, however, the main attraction of this village. A mere 10 yards from my doorstep opens into the main street of Chapora. What a scene—full power “boom-boom” music, shops selling raver clothing, bars and restaurants fill the street. Backpackers from around the world, most of them in dreadlocks and tattoos, share the scene with the locals hoping to sell you something, cows roaming for their next morsel of food--although a shred of newspaper will easily suffice—and mangy inbred dogs that gnaw endlessly on their hides, showing evidence of many a late night dog fight.

This is my third season to visit Chapora and it had never been the hot spot, so to speak…more like an odd place that “special” people stay. But with a few years passing I see that Chapora has evolved into the late night destination when 9 Bar closes. That’s roundabout 10pm and that is when the narrow and short street in Chapora becomes congested with plastic chairs spilling into the street outside of the already jammed full bars. Seated is an interesting array of alcoholics, ravers, junkies reeling from the latest heroin hit and ordinary people who want to take in a few beers.

I have always acknowledged the vibe of Chapora to be a bit dark. For this I had no plans to settle in too much. It was jarring as hell to arrive after 42 hours of traveling to be surrounded by this scene.

By day 2 I began to feel concerned that I as not feeling connected to India in a way that I recalled from past visits.

Then on day 3 everything changed.

Every Wednesday in nearby Anjuna is a massive outdoor market just yards from the lapping waters of the Indian Ocean. Hundreds of vendors sell their wares, mostly clothing, jewelry, food and various services. What makes this market so dynamic is that ~50% of the vendors are other travelers selling specialty wares from their country of origin. Having only arrived 2 days prior I had to control my urge to go completely ape shit and buy everything in sight. I did however binge on getting several purple extensions weaved into my hair thanks to Lucy, a solo traveler from the UK. I don’t know what it was but as soon as I got those purple extensions my ju-ju took a 180 degree turn…

I headed directly to 9 Bar to watch the sunset in this open air nightclub perched atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. I felt pretty certain that my departure would be the following day so the time was now to work out my thang on the dance floor. This could be my last opportunity to boogie to some sweet live Goa psytrance before venturing to calmer locales.

And now I would like to tell you the story of

“Romeo and Juliet: The Chapora edition”…

There is a minor detail I left out when I described my walk from my front door through the courtyard to the Chapora main street. Every time I walked through il y a un tres gentil homme qui a long hair, a beard and a very nice smile.

On this, my last evening in Chapora, I finally had the confidence to strike up a conversation with this friendly Frenchman, named Guillame.

.

.

.

voila…

Suddenly my plan to depart the next morning dissolved entirely…in addition to any care in the world.

I had no idea what scandal and controversy Guillame and my friendship had caused among the families of our two homes. What I learned quickly is that the owner of my house is a corrupt powerhouse of the underbelly of Chapora. In weeks past he had entered the house where Guillame stays and destroyed all plumbing facilities so this house could not access the dumping area near his property.

In addition he had deflated Guillame’s tires on more than one occasion and tampered with his scooter’s electrical wiring.

This “heavy”, an elderly Chaporan fisherman, also intimidated all the French—except for Guillame—by making them move out. It’s really difficult for me to explain all the nuances but I will tell you that it was a lot of drama and Guillame and my friendship antagonized the situation much like Romeo and Juliet’s?…

This was now only day 4 and 5 in India for me thus far and frankly I was not interested in embracing the drama…just embracing Guillame. We spent the few days on the beach and partying at night.

Ultimately though, it all had to end because Guillame was forced to move and I took this as my cue to escape the weird energy there and make the move to Arambol, albeit 2 days later than planned.

On my first day together on the beach with Guillame I was finally feeling like I had connected with the feeling of being a traveler again. I passed a beautiful red-striped seashell and took it with me. It represents to me the final “arrival” to India and the beauty of Guillame’s soul. He is a wise and beautiful man and our incredible conversations of fresh perspectives I hope to carry with me.

My photos of Goa