The waves amble onto the beach at a leisurely pace, one smallish wave every ten seconds, six waves per minute — as unhurried and undemanding as the restaurants or services here, a definition in action for the word languid. In some magical configuration of sea and sand, the waves which fall to earth are reflected back out to sea, like in some extensive classroom science fair: you can actually see the crest of the wave break, touch land, then turn and head back out to meet the next incoming swell. Quite hypnotic. Maybe this happens at all beaches in the world… but here the waves are so reticent to arrive, maybe the gap is great enough to allow one to see this slight-of-hand.
Manny and I played tourist yesterday, stopping in the many trinket and souvenir stalls — all fairly classy, really, with mainly handwork and such, without the plasticky Chinese products you might find at a lower-rate theme park — and finding bits of pieces of a trip to bring home for ourselves or others. The prices were a bit high, as all prices here are, in comparison to the ashrams and monasteries we have visited; but the sales pressure was almost as low and the pressure of the waves, the smiles and words characteristically Goan-friendly, and we walked home to hang out in our hotel gazebo and wait for evening to fall.
While there we got some of the inside scoop on the beach. Another couple showed up complaining of wall-to-wall beach huts: in fact, they are wall-to-wall-to-wall, and floor to ceiling, as the hut owners rush to prepare for the single month of high season, when their efforts will most pay off. The owner of our guest house, which is a few blocks away from the beach, and the owner of another local hotel, both had the same take on the current state of affairs: something would have to be done. They expect the state government to get involved after this season, to stem the explosive growth that has fairly well taken over the beach.
The problem, it seems, is popularity. Over the past ten years, the beach has become known to Indians and foreigners alike as one of the finest on the west coast — some say the finest in all of India. Where previously the less attractive beaches of Northern Goa, such as Calanguete or Anjuna, received the bulk of party-going tourists, these have eased up in the past years, as visitors looked for something less trodden, perhaps, and more scenic for quieter revelry. With the growing interest in the place, the return on effort for setting up beach huts and restaurants grew great enough to attract both low-end and high-end investors… hence the build-out.
Meanwhile, almost none of it is legal. You need a permit to build on the beach, and few permits have ever been given. Without a permit, you can't build a permanent structure, and you can't take down trees. So our friends the speculating hoteliers have every year set up temporary shacks and tents and even elaborate villas — only to completely rip them out at the end of the season. If a tree is in the way, they build the roof around it, let the palms sway up through holes in their structures, to afford those few extra feet which mean a few extra bodies… which means a lot of extra rupees.
Of course, those who have put real money into the community — and who incidentally also pay taxes for local infrastructure — have seen their investments erode somewhat while space on the beach-front has eroded. They have also seen an idyllic region become a boom-town, and in so doing lose the charm that made the place so special to begin with.
It has changed, let's say. It may be, as Manny put it last night, that we have landed in a bit of an anomaly: this huge transient beach-village that, should the villagers have their way, will not occur at this level ever again. Well… we are here before the main tourist season, and the restaurants and huts are fairly calm. If he wishes, Manny can catch the party scene when it comes — I myself have found my way into the more placid waters of Palolem, a good grounding and settling, and incorporation of a lot of travel, before heading back to New England's snows…!
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