Dreaded Paradise

So Paradise Beach. I have made the trip to Gokarna town center for a thali and an email check. It seemed like a big excursion.

It took me a little while to settle in. Despite the hippy, relaxed vibe there is a slight feeling of suspicion of outsiders. Not suspicion, but maybe a kind of weariness. Like I felt that people already had a nice family and community of friends, they maybe don’t always feel like giving the energy to make new friends. So settling in took a few days.

Observing the hippy lifestyle was a little off putting at first. A few too many people saying things with a religious rapture in their eyes: “Isn’t life just beautiful! Nature and people and everything. Oh!” This kind of thing. Takes a little getting used to. The cynic in me, despite wanting to open up finds this a little irritating.

There is rampant nudity (nude bathing is the norm) and hairy armpits. You begin to appreciate the conditioning that us Westerners face when it comes to women. You look at a frankly gorgeous specimen of Israeli beauty and you see her taking a nude dip in the sea. And you gasp and sigh, and then you see a big puff of hair creeping under her arms. Then she makes some liberating dive, throws her arms up and you see full view the clump of brown hair just nestling there. So innocent. And yet, a bit weird. It takes some getting used to.

Also the kissing. People here, as they get up to leave, they often move in for a kiss. And it’s not like the Mediterranean kiss on two cheeks done briskly and uniformly. It’s usually a slower, more deliberate, more affectionate. And when you encounter this as a relative outsider, it’s a little, I dunno, uncomfortable I guess. Especially when everyone else gets a kiss instead of you!

But I have to say I’m starting to really enjoy it. Obviously the music helps. I felt comfortable enough last night to sing my song “Israeli Girls are Beautiful” composed in Pushkar all those weeks ago with my French Baba, Dominique. It went down a storm. Even the Israeli guys enjoyed it (I often wonder).

I have a room on Paradise Beach, but I sleep out on the sand, with the stars, with a couple of others and usually a couple of interruptions from a fucked up Essex bloke on (of all things) Ketamine, who’s spent too much time in India. He makes a nightly habit of loading up on horse tranx and wobbling his arms about a bit and being a bit strange. Bless.

But I have no dreadlocks. No one has even suggested it. I’m almost offended.

So I dunno. I understand that I’m not quite in India, and that maybe I should keep moving, back to India. But I am just starting to feel welcomed by a very friendly community, and these things take time. Besides I will really miss the sea if I leave the coast. It is addictive all this swimming.

Apologies to anyone waiting for email replies. I have to go as the last bus back leaves in five minutes.

So note to the Ockelford Brothers, by all means get a re-issue of that Cabinet classic. Just as long as I get a copy.