the west

I've been hanging around on the beaches of Gokarna and Goa for the past couple of days, which as you can probably imagine, has been really stressful. Lazing in the sun, listening to the surf, and exploring the cliffsides that jut out into the sea as bookends to the beaches isn't exactly my least favourite way to spend some time.

Hordes of tourists (mostly Russian for some reason) take to those shores for a warm winter holiday, and I felt very strange about seeing more foreigners than nationals; knowing that all the locals were just there to work the tourism industry.

It was a relaxing stretch, but the time to move on came, and I left my sand-floored beach hut for a night bus to Bombay. The last stop took me to the city's south end, by a road called Marine Drive, where the art deco architecture reminds of Miami. I'm staying there, in my friend's beautiful family flat, enjoying luxuries that I'd nearly forgot existed while staying in hostels.

 A Nepalese migrant who came to work the restaurants on Palolem Beach, Goa - he hates the work and planned to travel home the following day.

A Nepalese migrant who came to work the restaurants on Palolem Beach, Goa - he hates the work and planned to travel home the following day.