Memoirs of a Wandering Viking, Chapter 2: A Recreational Haven

In the previous chapter of Memoirs of a Wandering Viking, I was sharing my experience from an eventful visit to Sunderban Tiger Reserve outside of Kolkata, India. This chapter goes back about a month, to a very different part of the journey: a Goa travel memoir from 2007, when my friend and I were still at the beginning of our time in India.

By then, my friend and I had already arrived in India. We landed in Mumbai, spent two days there, and then took a sleeper bus down to Goa. This was 2007, remember, and the place was still great back then.

We were supposed to stay at Palolem Beach, but instead settled on Calangute. A lot of people talk badly about it, but I liked Calangute a lot. It was close to Anjuna and Vagator, the two main party centers of Goa, had everything you needed, including a large and most often empty beach, and was also not very crowded.

Visiting Goa was a must when going to India, my friend and I both agreed on that. The whole beach setting, the nightlife—there were many things that made us want to go there.

I was young, eager for adventure, and especially excited about Goa’s famous nightlife. It sounded like the perfect place to spend a few memorable evenings, and I was not disappointed!

The beach life that we said we would enjoy most of the time was not a success though. We went to Goa at the end of March, which was a mistake considering it was so fucking hot down there that the ocean was even warmer than it was on land. And it was not really appealing to jump into what felt like a giant warm jacuzzi when being in that climate.

The evenings were an entirely different thing. The sun slowly disappearing over the horizon, together with the sea breeze, made it lovely to sit down at the beach and hang out around sunset. To make things even better, there were all these family-run restaurants down there which made it possible to dine on the actual beach—a lovely experience!

The first time we went out partying in Goa we ended up at a few different nightclubs. All of them were great. The atmosphere was lively, and the evening quickly turned into an adventure.

I was feeling unusually social and talkative that night. I was starting conversations with more or less every person I came across. And I managed to do so without being confrontational, rude, or inappropriate.

Later that night, my social manner resulted in me sitting with a stranger in a tuk-tuk going out into the middle of the jungle. I guess that sounds super dodgy, but the “stranger” was this Swedish man who was really laid-back and nice.

I had an amazing time! I was caught up in the excitement of the evening. These are very good memories, and I wish that I could go back in time to experience it again, knowing what I know today.

In other words, I would like to experience it while being the person that I am today, but at the same time, I do not think that I would enjoy it as much as I did back then.

After a taxi ride which took us about 20 minutes, we all of a sudden arrived at a bar in the middle of the jungle. It had a perfectly sized crowd of people, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Most people were older, though. In fact, I was one of the youngest, but it did not matter at all because they were all solid people.

Being the extrovert that I was, albeit with the “aid” of a few substances, I continued talking in a friendly way to everyone who came my way. Most of the people thought I was hilarious, and I was having a fucking awesome time!

Then one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was in the middle of another unexpected adventure with people I had only just met.

At one point I started feeling a bit sick, but one of the guys I had met seemed like a good man. He bought me a bottle of water, got me a chair so that I could sit down for a bit, and told me that I had nothing to worry about since I was among friends. They did not seem like empty words, because that was exactly how I felt. The only thing that was worrying me slightly was that I felt like I had to vomit.

Thankfully, the nausea disappeared, and I was back to enjoying the evening. It was not a bad thing in any way; I just couldn’t stop telling people how fucking cool they were and how much I liked them.

As an example, I had spoken to this older British woman for like five minutes when I started telling her that she was like an extra mum to me. And the man who had taken me to the bar was all of a sudden my best friend in the whole fucking world. I really had a blast!

The rest of the time was spent discussing Nigerian football with some guys from the aforementioned country. Back then, I was fanatical when it came to football, and I knew a lot, so the guys seemed really impressed by me.

My birthday was coming up a few days later, so I also started inviting people to come and celebrate with me at a nightclub that was supposed to be really good. I was walking on clouds and invited more or less the entire bar to my birthday party.

Looking back, I also realize that some of the choices I made while partying were reckless. I was lucky that nothing serious happened. It’s possible to remember an evening fondly while still recognizing that I wouldn’t make every decision the same way today.

Goa travel memoir: an unusual 21st birthday

As previously mentioned, my birthday was coming up. The day finally came, but I didn’t care about the birthday itself, to be honest. At the same time, I figured that we might as well make the best of it. We started the evening at a really nice restaurant down by the water in another part of Goa. Then we made our way from there to the club where I had invited everyone from my previous party session in Goa.

However, things did not really go as planned. Shortly after we had arrived at the club, I met this gorgeous Indian girl. We started talking while sitting down at the pool, and all of a sudden she lit up a joint. At that moment I was thinking to myself that she definitely was my type of woman.

I don’t know if I had already had too much to drink, or if that weed was the strongest shit I had smoked to that date. No matter what, I got so fucking high after sharing it with the Indian beauty that I could barely move.

This is a weird thing that I have noticed regarding the effect that weed has on me. There are times when I smoke the same strain as I have smoked several days in a row. For some reason, I can then all of a sudden get so fucking high that I can barely stand. It does not happen often, but I wonder what is causing it.

I tried to pretend that I was fine in front of the Indian woman whose name I unfortunately cannot remember. That probably failed miserably though, because I was struggling to get up from my sitting position. I finally managed to stand up and told her that I was going to the bathroom.

I then went looking for my friend, but somehow managed to find a tuk tuk on my own. It felt like it took forever to get back to the hotel room, because I was so fucking high that the world seemed to be going in slow motion.

It was around 11pm when I stumbled into the hotel room. I directly headed for the bed since I was still struggling to stand up. I felt a huge relief at the time, but thinking back about it, I see it as a major fuck up. There I was spending my 21^st birthday laying on the bed and being so high that I was laughing my ass off at a small lizard on the wall.

Thinking back about this fuck up, I should maybe have started to see some warning signs when I woke up the next morning. Needless to say, it is not like I was guaranteed to hook up with the Indian beauty if I wouldn’t have drank so much and smoked that joint.

However, if I had any chance with her, I definitely ruined it by becoming the walking dead and having to head back to the hotel room. At that particular moment, I was too stoned to feel bad about it though, and it wasn’t long before I fell asleep.

More from Memoirs of a Wandering Viking

Visit the Memoirs of a Wandering Viking series page, or go back to Chapter 1: Stranded in the Sundarbans, or continue to Chapter 3: The Bus Ride from Hell.