Enterprising citizens turned peaceful Goa into a business center under palm trees
30/5/0
DJ Theo recalls with nostalgia the distant times when rock and reggae strummed under the guitar and club house and trance danced under amplifiers. 'When I first came here a quarter of a century ago, I was the only Russian speaker,' says Theo, a Greek of Russian origin. 'There were maybe about a thousand English, a couple of thousand Italians, in '95 many Jews came. There were only three paved roads, a couple of cafes, and one international phone with huge queues.'
Among the motley crowd of local inhabitants, there were no more than a hundred Russians in the mid-90s. But Goa increasingly attracted with its freedom, cheapness, and beauty. By the beginning of the new century, the smallest Indian state had become one of the centers of Russian tourism. Now Russians are the most frequent foreign visitors to Goa. During the season from October last year to April this year, charters delivered about 3,000 people from Russia weekly. And this only counts tourist arrivals. But since the sun shines here eight months a year, two weeks in Goa is too little for some vacationers. And hundreds of our compatriots try their best to stay here longer.
'Until last year, Russians were easily given six-month visas; you could live and work here peacefully. But whether we were too active or consumed too much drugs, the Indians now issue us visas for a maximum of two months,' says one such local resident, Anna Nikiforova. You can, they say, get a business visa. Anna paid $800 for hers and does not regret it: 'My friends and I really wanted to hang out here and open our own cafe.' True, her cafe lasted only six months and closed, bringing its owners an astronomical loss by Indian standards—$6,000. But upon leaving, as the failed businesswoman says, no one regretted the money: 'Paradise Goa is worth such an adventure.'
Anna's story is atypical. Most likely, the company of young partygoers simply did not devote enough time to business. Many Russians, if they live here, make money seriously. Moreover, prices have almost equaled Moscow prices. In the village of Morjim, nicknamed 'Morzhovka', the coast is dotted with Russian restaurants. If in an ordinary Indian cafe you can eat and drink for $4, here for that amount you get only a couple of pancakes. Mini-hotels are often opened at restaurants. In one such Russian shelter, the price per night is $150–200. And next door there are exactly the same bamboo huts for $20.
Those who don't have a permanent business get by as best they can. Earning money again from their compatriots. They lead excursions at three times the Indian prices, engage in housing rentals. One such realtor adds the luxurious 'Maharaja' to his real Russian name. He specializes in one of the traditionally Russian beaches. He rents houses from locals for $500–600 a month and rents them out daily for $50. Profit is obvious. But now locals, even without the Russian Maharaja, rent their modest dwellings at the same crazy prices.
Some invent more exotic businesses. They organize 'Vedic weddings'—supposedly according to traditional Hindu rites—or produce 'Vedic food products.' 'For the first five years I did nothing here, the fat accumulated in Moscow allowed it,' says Igor Stanovich, in a past life a manager at a top oil company. 'But then I had to work. I found an Indian partner here, and we started making kefir and ryazhenka in a home workshop. Now they can be bought in the main supermarkets of Goa. Now we are thinking about starting production of basturma and sausages.'
And where are the former ravers in all this? The stronghold of that life has been preserved in the jungle on one of the remote beaches of Goa. Here grows a 300-year-old banyan tree—a sacred tree for Hindus and hippies. They say that the legendary Beatles once sat under it. And to this day, several people literally live on a large platform under the tree. The composition changes every season, but most of the tree dwellers are, of course, our compatriots. Under the supervision of an Indian yogi, they smoke weed and strum guitars, just like 30 years ago. But even here there is room for commerce. Excursions are taken to the banyan tree—locals feed on tourists. The girl Alla, for example, gives guests Ayurvedic massages for a small fee. And the 'enlightened' Andrei tells fortunes for tourists using twigs while talking about karma.
They live here, like most Russians, 'for the feeling of boundless freedom.' Previously, this feeling was achieved for free. But now Russian downshifters have realized that there is no freedom without money. And they have to make money even in paradise.