Goan, Going, Gone

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So, it's after half a month in Goa that I leave these fairly fine shores of Palolem. The last 16 days here have included much lounging, lying by the beach in the restaurant at D'Costas, people watching and thinking my thoughts. I have grown used to the simple way of life here, the lack of electricity, my daily wake-up call of ants biting me in bed, preferring the squat toilets over the Western one, cold showers (if there's any fresh water at all), watching and learning the habits of the beach dogs and their territories, the old resident German lady who hogs the sunbed at the crack of dawn every day with a sheet but never uses it, the Ethiopian man who walks past every day at 4pm without fail in his native dress, the middle aged Spanish yoga enthusiast in his oh-so-lovely, not-so-flattering loin cloth and the daily cricket match at sundown between the Indian and Nepalese staff. Even the hawkers and beggars no longer bother me as they've gotten to know me.
For once, I've begun to appreciate this simplicity in life, without the luxuries at home. TV seems like a distant hum in my memories, reading of books a previous chapter in my life. Feeling at peace in this plain bubble of life (even though there are lots of places which are even more simple and lacking in facilities than Palolem beach), it amazes me how we take comforts such as water, garbage collection, flushing toilets, supermarkets, cornershops, washing machines, constant electricity and transport for granted at the expense of a simple, effective life, where everyone is happy. How many times have I heard people complain that these indulgences are malfunctioning, how they should work, or be fixed at a moments notice? No one here does. If there's no fresh water, you bathe in the sea. If there's no electricity, you light a candle, or go without. I was once woken at 3am by an typical chubby English girl crying and complaining, to the point of screaming, to her two large female friends in a hut nearby that she couldn't use the toilet because it hadn't been flushed by the previous person due to water shortage. I stood outside and shouted at her to '....shut the f*ck up and deal with it! It's 3am in the morning, we're trying to sleep and you hear noone else complaining!".
But don't get me wrong. I miss these little amenities that we have all had the privilege to experience. I sorely miss them, but only because I've tasted the old way of living, and that puts a lot of things into perspective for me. I know now that when I return to a 'civilised' place, I will appreciate these comforts all the more, but the inevitable, inescapable creep of ignorance and selfishness shall once again return, and I'll find myself again sinking into the beanbag cushion of luxury, bubble-wrapped from the life I have lived in relative modesty for a time.
So as the sea of sorrow washes it's tears upon the shore of my cheeks, I say 'goodbye!' to Palolem beach, my home for the last 16 days. I'll be back, I promise!
So onward, and beyond! To Hampi, the ancient capital of the Hindu kingdom! My itinerary for the next 4 weeks has mostly been planned, as I venture round the southern tip of India, Mysore, Kochi, Kollam, Madurai, Pondicherry, before having to arrive in Chennai on 4th May to take my leave of the Indian peninsula, and dabble in the sapphire shores of the Andaman Islands for 13 days, before returning to the mainland in Kolkota (Calcutta to you British Imperialist heathens!).