Time does not seem to work the same here as anywhere else. Arambol at this time of the season is by far the most high traffic traveller/backpacker hub I’ve been so far. Musicians, visual artists, fire spinners, jugglers, yogis and acrobats are swarming the area. Collaboration between artists is the foundation of the community here.
Goa tourism in the past years has rapidly increased, with Arambol as a highlight of Goa beaches, interest in commercial land has increased as well. This has begun to erode the creative movement of the longtime Arambol frequenters. As I write this I ponder my responsibilities as a newcomer in Arambol during this commercial gentrification. Supporting locally fuelled businesses and artistic quality becomes all the more important.
Despite the low quality Iphone camera, I’m stoked on the moments from different trips in the jungle.
Being exposed to an incredible amount of exceptional music. Multiple jams and venues being lit up ever night, event organising on a wild level.
Having a little safe haven amid all the ruckus has been wonderful. Our apartment is close to the beach, right next to a couple of the best affordable kitchens and the midst of the crowd. Before we moved in our landlady had mentioned she didn’t want any partying in the apartment which I thought was very reasonable. I promised that there would be no partying and everyone who came for a visit would be respectable of the house.
Until the other day she has had no problem with any of the friends coming and going. The other day I was forced into a discussion with her son, as she speaks very little English, about who they will and won’t allow around the house. My protests, at the absurdity, were simply met with threats. Eventually I was forced to concede that this conversations outcome could not be improved by me. I plan to continue as if they had never wasted their energy on something so negative.