After a problem-free flight fro Jaipur to Goa, we found ourselves in a (for India) overpriced 'pre-paid' taxi on our way to our pre-booked hotel. Getting to our hotel in Anjuna, took about an hour by car, where our nice driver drove on alot of smaller country roads allowing us to see a bit of the 'real' Goa before we headed to the Indian eqivalent of Tenerife.
For about 450 years, Goa was a Portugese colony - until it was annexed by India in 1961. But still Goa is strongly influenced by the Portugese heritage. The older Goans speaks Portugese as a rule - and we've even seen Indian-made 'Port' in shops here.
However, we didn't see much of this at first, going as we were to lick sun and bathe at Goas beaches. When we arrived at our hotel, it turned out not to be 'a short 10 minute walk' from the beach, but more than half an hour walking in the scolding heat. The hotel in itself was nice, though - with international tv-channels, hot showers and a nice balcony where we had breakfast made out of western cheeses and bread bought from the ex-Pat store nextby.
The beach Anjuna beach itself, however, turned out to be a pure and utter hell. The blend between junked out hippies persistently trying to sell you as wide a variety of drugs as you could think of, and Indian shopkeepers (as) desperate (as they come) trying to nag you into buying their useless crap blended in with extremely loud techno music from the early nineties made this place unbearable for normal backpackers and other people with their eyes and ears intact.
We tried to escape to another beach after only 2 days - but to no avail. Calangute is just as bad. (As a side note I may add that this is the only time we've thought 'why didn't we consult lonely planet first).
After 3 days we had enough, and headed to the Goa State Capitol, Panaji - to catch a train out of this schitzofrene package travel paradise.
The state capitol, Panaji, is worth a visit - to take in some of this Portugal-gone-strange. Not many turists comes here (compared to the beaches), and it bears a feeling genuinity. It's also very small for an Indian capitol with only about 100 000 inhabitants - if you include the suburbs.
Before we knew it, we were on our way to Hampi, with its houndreds of temples.
