Sossegado

Writing this blog post is going to be hard work. Not because writing blogs is particularly hard, but because my fingers, and perhaps the rest of my body, have gone into a semi-comatose state brought about by the Goan beaches.

Palolem is a beach

My long train trip is over. All 38 hours of it. The train spat me out in the city of Margao in the south of Goa and I promptly caught a bus further south, to Palolem. Palolem is a beach town. It is is a beautiful beach town. It is, in fact, more of a beach than a town. The beach is, in essence, the town. Palolem is a beach. There are huts on the beach with people in them. And bars on the beach with other people in them. There are palm trees around the beach and a flat sea just off the beach. The beach is crescent-shaped, which is apparently a good shape for a beach to be. It is hot. It is sunny. There is a certain sossegado to life on this beach.

Sossegado is a distinctly Goan word. It translates, rather crudely, to laid-backness. It is undeniably the best word to describe life in a Goan beachside town. Life is just laid-back. There's not much to do but lie in the sun (or the shade, if you're a pasty individual like me who doesn't want to look like a burnt tomato at the end of the day) and read. And then spend some time in the balmy water. Because there's not much to do apart from be a lazy lout and enjoy yourself, there's not much to write about to interest other people in an obscure, traveler's blog post. Which is the reason I'm citing for not having written anything, up to now. I assure you it has everything to do with me being too lazy to remove myself from the beach and type something up.

Three paragraphs in and I've managed to say nothing at all. This is a pretty good sign. It looks like I'll be able to pass off my laziness by obscuring it in florid descriptions of beaches and palm trees.

This is my Palolem beach hut - swanky, right?

One remarkable thing about accommodation in Palolem is the accommodation itself. Almost all of the accommodation is of the tiny, beach hut variety, just off the beach, amongst the palm trees. These little huts are fantastic! They are assembled at the beginning of each tourist season, just after the monsoon, and disassembled at the end of each season, before the monsoon's return. Huts are pokey, with little more than a bed and a mosquito net (and a tiny bathroom, if you're lucky) which is exactly why I love them. Waking up in a rickety little hut and stumbling out on to a beach is a brilliant way to start a day. If you haven't experienced this, you'll have to take my word for it. Another brilliant feature of these little huts is the maze of sandy, shady alleyways that get formed between them. A walk along these narrow paths is a good way to step away from the countless European tourists in Speedos who inhabit the beach. Speedo's should be considered a crime against humanity.

I wake up to this...

Patnem, a semi-Speedo-free zone

A little way south of Palolem is another beach, Patnem. Patnem is also a crescent-shaped beach, but with the added advantage of having fewer Speedo-toting Europeans around. It's a lot less busy and is therefore a good way of escaping the tourist hordes. I spent some time there today, and I plan on spending some more time there tomorrow, and the next day. Anything to save my eyes from that horrible excuse for a swimming costume. And the people who seem to think it's a very attractive swimming costume. These people are almost always fat, roasted men in their late fifties from the south of France.

With the conclusion of my rant on the heinous crime that is wearing a Speedo in public, or even in private for that matter, I think I'll conclude this pointless update of my blog. You are now aware of my laziness. My confirmation of it is firmly in writing. It's starting to approach evening time over here, the sun is well over the yardarm. I'm going to be heading back to the beach soon to enjoy a cold beer and a spicy, prawn vindaloo.

Oh God, those vindaloos... The mouth-watering explosion of flavour that is the Goan specialty dish. The spices, the fresh seafood which practically swam on to the plate, the zing of chilli... The sudden reverie that merely typing the word 'vindaloo' induces...

I'm off... I think I'll have an early supper.

A snapshot of the rocky Colomb bay

Mui Ne is Mooi, Ne!

So I've come up with a cheesy title for this latest blog entry and the more astute of my readers will have noticed that the blog itself has a new title. I've changed the title from 'My Backpack in 'Nam' to 'Oliver's Backpack.'  This is because my plans are ever-changing and I will now be incorporating Laos and Cambodia into my trip on the way back south.

You may be wondering what's been keeping me from blogging these past couple of days. Allow me to show you:

Palm-fringed beach. Good morning, Vietnam!

That is what I wake up to every morning in Mui Ne. Okay, not quite, I wake up to this:

I took that photo. That's why it's skew.

But those are the same palm trees in both photos.

What has kept me from blogging was sheer laziness. I have been spent every day since my arrival in the aptly named Mui Ne (It sounds like Mooi, Ne) on the beach. Every day except today. Today I am proud to inform you I got on a motorbike again. And this time I stayed on it. (A little aside: It is my opinion that the towns and cities in this region were named by a horny Afrikaner. To get to Mooi, Ne you have to pass through Phan Thiet - pronounced Fun Tiet. Your journey sounds like this: Fun Tiet! Mooi, Ne?)
The Lonely Planet had informed me that there are some incredible sand dunes about 35km away, hugging a beautiful lake known as Lotus Lake. As a tourist it is my job to take in the sights, so I went off to find a motorbike to hire for the day. Within no time I was heading to the sand dunes.

The first sand dunes I got to are known as the red sand dunes. Strange name, I've heard it has something to do with their colour... I was bitterly disappointed with what was on show. The dunes were certainly a reddish hue, but they weren't as dramatic as described by the guide books. Unperturbed, I headed for the white sand dunes near Lotus Lake. The directions I had been given weren't exactly very specific, but somehow I found my way there.

Upon arrival at the white sand dunes and Lotus Lake a monkey saw it fit to attempt to bite my leg. Thankfully for me, yet sadly for it it was chained to a post and couldn't get close enough. Lotus Lake was pretty cool and  proved to be aptly named, as there were indeed lotus flowers in the lake. The sand dunes, however, were nothing special.

Lotus Lake

After an hour in the dunes and an hour in the shade of the trees in the above picture I headed back to Mui Ne for a much needed swim.

I arrived back in Mui Ne, returned the bike and charged to the sea for a dip. I plunged into the water and felt immediately refreshed. The water is incredibly warm and I would have stayed in for longer if the sun hadn't been threatening to roast my shoulders. So, being the sensible lad I am I headed out of the water for the shade of a nearby palm tree. It was then that whatever gods there may be decided to shit on my head from a lofty height. A bloody jelly fish stung me on the eyelid. I know exactly how to get rid of the sting, but how the hell was I supposed to piss on my face? I opted for the more sane option and gunned it back to my guest house and hit the shower.

My recovery has been made, so don't fret. My eye is completely operational and only a slight sting remains. No swelling just yet.

Don't let a jellyfish near your dong
Oliver

P.S. This is what a fishing village looks like in Vietnam:

Boats, lots of boats.