Hippy-tastic

After a few days in Mandrem, Charlie and I try the next beach up and find where the true hippies from the 1960s and their up-and-coming dreadlocked and pierced replacements have been hiding - Arambol. If you can juggle fire, hula-hoop, bang a drum, belly-dance, perform acrobatics or move in any other random, talented or untalented way, you are welcome to join the drum circle at sunset. Everyone who is worth their backpack's weight is there, in all their tied-dyed, long-haired glory.

On a serious note, Charlie and I are troubled to find that there are cows on the beaches here, too. Mandrem is so long and quiet, we thought the cows didn't bother. If cow poop on the beach is not enough to put me off submerging my head in the ocean water, then the human, poultry and pig waste is. Arambol's "sewage system" appears to involve all human, bird and pig waste products' being deposited in the local streams that empty directly into the ocean. If and when there is a disease pandemic, this place could be ground zero.

Finally, I am ashamed to say that Charlie and I broke down and ate a salad. After 6 weeks without a salad, a greek salad just sounded sooo good, and the menu - which claimed to wash the produce in filtered water at the much esteemed "German Bakery" - was sooo convincing. And so we ate the salad, and we enjoyed it immensely. And then we were sick 3 hours later. But it passed quickly and did not involve a fever, so maybe it was worth it after all. And come to think of it, we both did go for an ocean swim that potentially exposed us to fecal matter. Whether it was really the salad or the ocean swim that made us sick is really a toss up. Maybe it was both.