Where you Goa-in?
After 2 months and countless miles (kilometers, leauges, whatever) the soles of our feet have become as rocks, solid as the railroad rails which have carried us across this great (in) continent. Which is why, after about 30 seconds of discussion, we decided to purchase a fare on the democratising airline known as "SpiceJet."
Delhi to Goa by train= 42 hours.
Delhi to Goa by SpiceJet = 3 hours.
60 bucks for sanity and two days, no question.
So Don and i abandoned our westward snails pace for a birds-eye-view, and a three hour tour straight to the beach.
If you're looking for your random uncle who got lost somewhere in the 60s and hasn't turned up since then, i found him. Not only him, but also all the people who thought the "rave" scene was not only a viable subculture, but something that ought to be perpetuated. I found them too. Either that or Barnum & Baily dump the has-been clown costumes in the second hand stores around here, cause people are looking downright silly. Checker pants with a matching vest. 50 year old men with thongs. I though people recognized that the ambiguous tribal tattoo was pretty grunge 90's, maybe they didn't catch the memo in Eastern Europe.
But the beach is beautiful, the water warm, and its snowing in Chicago (be safe). So there.
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