Dope and Beaches

There were two destinations on the hippie trail to India. You could go north to Kathmandu, where there was a lot of dope and mountains, or south to Goa where there was a lot of dope and beaches. In either case it was said people had got lost – mentally and spiritually, that is – and never returned. Although a fledgling hippie myself, I was too trepid to go to either, but wandered around between the two, making it to Calcutta and beyond and eventually retreating when the money finally ran out.

I cannot say I ate very well on my modest budget back then. Meals were mostly a succession of fiery curries interrupted by a regime of railway breakfasts – eggs and cornflakes – while the digestive system recovered. The highlights were the thali trays that you were given on the trains, clean and well-prepared complete meals with rice, dhal, a little mutton, some form of bread and a little pickle. It was hardly a Rick Stein-like tour, exploring the differences between biryani and pilau or sampling vibrant fish curries fresh off the beach.