Baga/Calangute

Fort Aguada, fresh water wells and light house

Been trying to squeeze in the sights and sounds of the surrounding area, which despite having been through such a turbulent past there are very few of note. The main historical attraction, Fort Aguada, which lies at the south end of the beach is an old Portuguese fortification and was used to defend against the Dutch and Marathas , it also had a large water reserve, the first the Portuguese would have availability to after the voyage, it held as the Indians put it 27,76,000 gallons. To be honest most of this I learned from my guide book as it would appear, despite being of huge historical importance, the government seem no need to actually provide any information at the fort, with the exception of 1 sign at its entrance. It is most likely a reflection on the fact that it is free to get in, and with the nationals reluctant to pay for pretty much anything there could probably be no other way, however it just seems a little sad. The taxi driver promptly showed my round the numerous helipads just opposite with, what appeared, more national pride, informing my it was used mainly by the head of the Kingfisher Empire, Vijay Mallya, and other Indian elite when the reuglar parties were being thrown.

View from Fort Aguada onto the 'House on the Hill'

 The other main thing on the menu here is the markets, the two main contenders being the ones and Mapusa and Anjuna. The Mapusa market is mainly directed at locals, but had elements of tourist tack to keep the hordes that visit for the day happy. The fruit/veg and dried fish sections seemed to dominate on the sensory front, with bunches of corriander harmoniously blending with that of the rotten fish...not. The rest of the market consisted of anything else from underpants to umbrellas with the 'fresh' fish section taking up the other quarter of the market. I think I arrived a little late in the day to be wandering around that part of the market and as I tried to swiftly remove myself I found myself slap bang in the middle of the meat market, which smell rivaled that of the fish. The Muslim run beef stalls had various kinds of cuts hanging however they all had one thing in common, the flies. The chicken stalls gave me a new insight into the meaning of 'caged hens' however it was the large cheeping noise that drew my attention, a man with a large wicker basket on his head with a net over the top carried what must have been hundreds of chicks which he obligingly reached in and sold by the handful into a paper bag for the princely sum of 200 rupees (no snaps I'm afraid my weak constitution for the smell of meat got the better of me).

The Anjuna market is a totally different affair, set up originally by 'Eight Finger Eddie' for Western travelers to sell there unwanted possessions in a last bid attempt to prolong there stay in Goa, has now grown to an enormous flea market. Although there is still a Western section, mainly dealing with fashion the majority of the stall holders have picked up sticks from their usual haunts on the beach trails and hope for better business at the market, however if you look hard enough you do spot the occasional one of a kind trinket. After parting with 500 rupees for two pairs of trousers and a shirt, none of which I have or will ever wear, I decide it best to head home, were I was treated to a suspension-less auto-rickshaw ride home, clearly via a footpath, how he made it over that bridge without losing wing mirrors and at that speed I will never know!