A spaced out lady.

Chapora, 28-01-1995. Nice little village Chapora. Sitting here under this huge tree with a hot and sweet chai I really can feel how much I enjoy this trip, already well over a year on the road. Now, I`ve heart stories about people who completely lost it all up their in the head because of O.Ding on the acid extacy. Basically speaking: all braincells have burned away, nada left, probably what happened to Kristoff with his Alien stories and his ragtag gang of pot smokers he wants to take up to Tibet to throw out the occupying chinese army. I`ve a pretty strong suspicion it`s what has happened to this pretty lady sitting opposite me pulking away at a massive hole in the sole of her foot. She doesn`t seem to feel any pain but she does have a pretty spaced out expression, a bit like she is far away, on a life time mental trip. Too bad about her foot, blood and green puss mixed with dirt from the always dusty indian streets flowing out of it. I heart a rumour that some blokes from Norway have a shelter for these people and try to contact embassies and all. Maybe I should give them a hint.

Locals and tooth brushes.

Vagator Beach, 27-01-1995. It took me two days to recover from my latest acid beach party two nights ago. GREAT, really with dancing on TECHNO music well into the first rays of the indian sun. When we left at 10 o`clock people were still dancing. When the first rays of the early dawn broke through the locals who inhabit the area of the party, watched the absolute madness with tooth brush in mouth. Kristoff dragged me off to the house of a finnish lady for a joint. Leaving her house several hours later and well under the "ïnfluence" he took me back to his sister`s place in Anjuna for yet more joints. His sister finally brought me home on the back of her Rajdoot - indian motor cycle - and when a bumb in the road pushed my pelvis area into her lower back area, she laughed about it. When late at night I walk down the road to Primrose together with Nico and Babsi a local says "hello" to Nico and wants to shake hands with him. "Do I know you?" asks Nico, "no" he replies. "Then fuck off, man!" says Nico and we walk on. Not really polite behaviour to a local in whose country we are mere guests but I decide not to interfere

The Bumbu monkey.

Vagator Beach, 25-01-1995. Visiting the Anjuna market this morning I ran into Kristoff and his sister. I was hanging out with Kristoff and his sister back at Kutly Beach a few short weeks ago. Having A King Fisher beer - even in Anjuna it`s named on the menu as a "Big B. Juice" - with them at a nearby chai shop Kristoff told me he had found back his Bumbu monkey. I seem to recall him telling me back at Kutly Beach, he lost that monkey about 8 months ago. As always the flea market at Anjuna was a spectacular affair full with european holiday makers and kashmiri carpet sellers. I watch with admiration how these shrewd kashmiri business people manage to talk all these office pricks from Europe into buying carpets the size of a soccer field - I might exaggerate a bit here but still....quite an accomplishment!!! Late at night when I try to sleep and ignore the mad barking of stray dogs i can hera a voice sceaming "shut the fuck up, you fucking dogs" I silently agree.

A "Big B. Juice" on the menu.

Vagator Beach, 24-01-1995. A lazy day on the beach reading and playing volley-ball. A local lady - a beauty really, who lived in the States and nowadays works as a waitress in one of the chai shops on the beach - wanted to go for a swim and asked me to chaperone. When she took off her dress to reveal a magnificent body clad in a undersized bikini, 20 heads belonging to well dressed indian holiday makers, turned all at once. I can now understand why she wanted me to chaperone her...The police raided the chai shops on the beach this morning because they sell beer without a license - that probably means they don`t pay baksheesh to the cops - so a beer on the bill was referred to as "Big B. Juice". While I chaperone the chai shop lady, I`ve a distinct feeling someone is keeping an eye on me...turning around I see a big and ugly black crom sitting one of the horns of a stray cow - they consider these cows holy here - and has its eyes fixed on me. Not a nice feeling.

A Lord Shiva quest.

Vagator Beach, 23-01-1995. Still trying to get my head together from last night`s acid party ans smack Boom Chankar I`m back at the next one. Yeah, have not even gotten over my unexpected run-in and consequent night-together with Electra, and there I am....back at the next acid party and trying hard to chat up this vasque lady called Beatrice. Let`s hope I wore out miss Electra well and good when we arrived at her hotel, let`s hope she is still asleep and not on here way to this all night party and finding me here busy with miss Vasque. I seem to remember she does have a jealous streak, was that not the reason I dumped her then. All of a sudden I can hear a voice "Hello Hans, how are you? How is Elektra?". Shit and shit again I have never seen this chap before in my life, who is he? One of Elektra`s amigos? Quite possible...Totally confused I ask him to join us but he politely refuses. While desperately trying to search my mind for a recolection still working hard on this vasque lady Beatrice, he disappaers as though he was never there. My drug induced mind is getting more paranoid by the day, I have even started to question my own sanity. What happened to all that control that I had before I started on this Lord Shiva quest?????

Electra.

Vagator Beach, 22-01-1995. Electra was her name and we used to date together but that was many years ago. I look across the crowd in amazement but, YES, it really is her....Now I`m not on some far out trip despite my presence on this acid beach party. It might be 4.30 o`clock in the morning and I might have been dancing on this crap for nothing TECHNO music but I`ve been sober all night. Not like the rest of this crowd, mostly israeli people who have recently finished their three year stint in the Israeli army shooting unarmed palastinians, the english all drunk and stoned out of their collective minds, are also heavily present here. I move through this crowd of weirdos charas smoke invading my nostrils - what is the point of smoking when the air is so pregnant with marijuana fumes, just a waste of money. She sees my face way before I reach her and the look of recognition in her eyes is obvious. When first light chases away the dark of the night I find myself on the back of her motorbike, around us hunderts of exhausted people are trying to make it home on their motorbikes. Rumour has it the indian police will only stop israelies for grass checks so we`ll be safe from that little bit of inconvenience.

English titties....

Vagator Beach, 21-01-1995. Took a bus today to Calagute with the intention to return by foot along the beach. Upon arrival at Calagute i decided to first have breakie before setting out on this not so massive beach walk. The chai shop where i took my X-fast was full with english people having just returned from an allnight acid party, it showed....they were rowdy and rough looking but hospitable inviting me over to there table. Within no time I had an english blond on my lap while I was busy trying to wolf down my breakfast. The darned woman placed her not-too-bad-an-ass on my lap and asked/demanded I gave her back a rub with the sun lotion she had conveniently in her bag. Naturally I obliged and - much to her satisfaction - gave her tits a rub as well. The beach of Baga was full with semi-nude, milky white european skin so I didn`t hang around for too long.