31 January
I go to Gokarna! I wait for my train stop: Kumta Station in Karnataka state. It was a relatively simple matter obtaining a sleeper bunk in second-class without a reservation. I bought a general third-class ticket – ideal for anybody wishing to experience what it could be like to be a tinned sardine – then when the train pulled in, and I had to sadly part with the cute penguin-bins (so appropriate for tropical Kerala) that are scattered around Ernakulam Town Station, I just hopped onto any sleeper coach. When the TT came (the ticketing officer) I paid him the difference and he upgraded me to my bunk of choice. He has the final list of all reservations and can do much more with regards to allocation than a station ticketing-office could – a handy trick.
It is 9am when I jump off the train and take the bus from Kumta to Gokarna. As soon as I arrive, I pop into a local restaurant for a traditional south-Indian breakfast (Idli, costing Rs8-, consists of two rice buns with a coconut chutney and spicy sauce). A cat is playing under my table, and I soon notice the object of its attention is a cockroach the size of my thumb. The guy at the counter looks up, glances over at the activity beneath my table, and goes back to punching an SMS into his mobile phone (everybody has one) nonchalant. I too continue savouring my Idli without bother. Now I realise I have already adapted to my new environment.
And so that I feel really at home. I am in Gokarna barely a few hours when I meet Angelo, a Gozitan fisherman! Truly 'Everything is possible in India'! Many travellers find Gokarna an ideal place to stop a while and unwind. It is my fifth visit to this seaside village which has a particular charm that is truly addictive. This holy place offers as much for the Hindu pilgrim as for the westerner escaping into the simplicity of idle beach-life.
While the beach resorts of Goa and Kerala have by now been somewhat transformed by the huge increase in package-tourism over the last decades, Karnataka's coast – located between them – can still offer some lesser-known beaches where bare skin is not taboo (spurring goggle-eyes in the men and wrinkled foreheads in the women). Mostly some discretion offers respect for the rather prude Indian minds, but swimming in a 'sari' – the five-metre-long cloth which is traditional dress for Indian women – can be a life-threatening experience, I know.
The five main tropical beaches around Gokarna are close enough to the village to feel traditional India at will, yet distant enough to allow for relative freedom and release for visitors wishing to unwind... exactly my plan within the next few days!
5 February
I go beach-hopping from today. I have settled near the village, by the beach end of the L-shaped main street – my house is surrounded by coconut palms and I can hear the roar of the Arabian Sea crashing onto Gokarna Beach. I am paying Rs100- (less than Lm1) a night for two rooms – a bedroom complete with mosquito-net, ceiling fan and electric supply, and a bare front room leading onto a balcony from where I can invade the privacy of the noisy crows. On the beach I can get a mud-hut or a palm-leaf-hut for anything between Rs35 and Rs80 depending on whether electricity, running water or a toilet are readily available, but I will just hammock my way instead...
Armed with my bikini, a change of clothes, a hammock, a book and some cash, I go to the bus-stand and Rs6- take me to the fishing-village of Belekan, a 15-minute ride away. From there it is just a 10-minute walk to Paradise Beach, the 'fifth' beach and furthest away from Gokarna. From there I will make my way back, walking from beach to beach, over the next few days.
7 February
You are never alone in India. Apart from the ever-friendly local people – with whom I love to exchange a few words, or gestures and eye-contact when language forces limitations – many travellers to India travel solo and a social network is thus easily created. The trend is to treat everybody like you have known them all your life, with an open heart and unsuspicious attitude.
With nine other hippy-type fellows, Ciro and I get into a hired fishing-boat headed to Barka Beach – a tiny spot of sand sandwiched between two cliff-sides yonder south. I met Ciro, from Italy, in Gokarna and it now looks like we have adopted each other as companions for this beaching-expedition. With the sides of the fishing boat only five or so inches from sinking beneath the water, and a swell a couple of feet high as we approach the beach, we land thanks to some divine intervention (either that or these boatmen very modestly hide their extreme skill!)
Paradise beach affords a few chai-shops (cafe's) and huts, but Barka is desolate except for an abandoned makeshift structure hidden beneath some banana trees. Ganesh soon appears – he is the owner of one of the chai-shops in Paradise, but when he reaches a padlocked mud-hut his face wrinkles in dismay, “My brother lock everything up!”
Apparently the Barka chai-shop is an ad-hoc business run between Ganesh and Manish. Ganesh says there is no authority controlling the erection of a business-stall – free-economy at its best. As long as the construction is temporary, that is, not made of stone, then no permits are required. The army could reclaim back the land, but business could carry on in the meantime, no problem! After all, when the monsoon came it would all wash away...
Luckily Ciro has a swiss-knife and Ganesh patiently saws through the padlocks by the light of a torch, to bring out a few food-supplies. He has to cook for a large party so Ciro, Iara from Israel, George from England and I decide it is just as entertaining to help out preparing a feast in the mud-kitchen by candlelight as it could be to sit and sing songs around a bonfire...
8 February
The morning brings with it a feeling of waking up on a desert island, by the apparent detachment from the rest of the world. Some people decide to hang on to the experience but Ciro and I decide to explore the surrounding area and head to Half-Moon beach (the fourth furthest from Gokarna) late afternoon, if we can hail a boat! It feels idyllic to play in the sea, clamber over the rocks to the next beach (which surprisingly hosts eight families in houses hidden in the lush green setting) and relax in a hammock, until the highlight of the day: the Majestic Eagle Show.
Soaring eagles are the order of the day in this area, but this show-off gave an air-show-style display of its effortless gliding for the best part of 15 minutes, regularly stooping to just a couple of feet from our heads – it is hard to describe the feeling of being so close to this huge bird of prey in such a harmonious natural setting, while bobbing up and down in the waves... good for Mr Eagle not to be born Maltese!
We reach Half-Moon Beach at sunset thanks to a German family that visited Barka unexpectedly. Ciro takes a hut there and I am his guest. I sleep to the sound of the didgeridoo drifting through the open door of the hut as some Italians and Czechs play with fire-sticks and puoys. Nonetheless, Half-Moon remains the least affected by tourism of the five main beaches – its total lack of light pollution providing the most amazing display of the night sky.
9 February
We take breakfast in a chai-shop perched on some rocks at the end of the beach and I am amused no end that Guru, the owner, is wearing a Malta T-shirt. “I bought it from Gokarna market – every Thursday!” he stated proudly, as if coaxing me to get one too. His little puppy has a most unusual name: 'Airport'! “Some people brought from Mysore airport,” he explained. Ah it is obvious then...
I have become used to Ciro's intelligent companionship, but make my way to Om Beach alone while he chooses to stick around the paddy fields of Half-Moon. There I take lunch and observe some antics of the beach-cows which have me in stitches of laughter as I peer over my book every now and then: one believes the beach-tennis-ball must be extremely tasty and takes no heed to the shooing-away by the players, while another comes begging at the chai-shop gate... only to saunter in like it owns the place when nobody gives it any attention.
Evening takes me to Kudle Beach, the second beach from the village, just twenty minutes' walk away from Gokarna Beach and village. More extraordinary meetings await me: a re-union with Yorgo, a Greek guy I met on the same beach five years before. We exchange a few words and I find myself led to the paddy fields behind the beach, where he has bought some land and is building a stone-house. Some people can just make their dreams come true.
“You are just in time, you know?” Yorgo says, “We have a circus tonight!” Indeed, at sunset some travellers from Spain, England, Italy and France perform fire-juggling, fire-eating, acrobatics and tight-rope complete with clown! Quite amazing for a spontaneous show they took just six hours to organise, especially in the eyes of the little Indian kids still sporting their blue school uniform at this time of the evening.
Despite warnings not to cross over the hills at night, I take the risk and head 'home' to Gokarna after the show. It has been quite a remarkable time – not quite the package holiday! Now I am ready to settle back into Indian village-life for a while. With a couple of important Hindu festivals coming up, there is some exciting activity to look forward to.
The first two episodes of Melanie Drury’s diary were published on 22 January and 5 February.
Episode 4 due: 5 March.
www.melaniedrury.com;
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