Greetings from Goa, India's smallest state and birthplace of an entire genre of electronic music: Goa trance. (Despite my love for trance, I have yet to discern the difference, if there is one, between Goa trance and its closely-related genre, psychedelic trance.)

The party town of Anjuna in North Goa has had a semi-permanent ex-pat population, including many DJs, partygoers, burnt out druggies and hippies, since the 60s. The parties here have helped give birth to an international trance party scene. The scene is as vibrant as ever and at the moment, the outdoor raves that make Goa famous are happening about 3-4 times per week. Rumors abound about increased police presence, parties shutting down early and so on, but I am optimistic that tomorrow's Black Moon Party will not disappoint. I haven't had a proper dancing session since the Full Moon Party in Thailand in November and have been looking forward to this so much. Dancing! In Goa! To trance! On the beach! Could life get any better?!

With tourist dollars (euros, pounds, shekels, what have you) flowing into the state's coffers in a steady stream, Goa now has a comparatively high standard of living. This translates to higher prices for us and a vibe that feels quite a bit different from "the real India." There are reminders that we're still in India (the roads are terrible, it's pretty dirty, people still constantly implore you to enter their shops, ride in their rickshaws, so on), but all in all it feels like a different world here.

At the moment we're in the town of Arambol, about half-hour north of Anjuna. After checking into our guesthouse, I met my next-door neighbor Fritz, a tweaky Scottish lad from Aberdeen. We chatted a bit in the guesthouse hallway and then he ushered me into his sty of a room for some freshly-made coffee. Clothing, books, CDs and other personal effects were strewn about with the same carelessness as broken bottles, discarded papers and cigarette butts. He swept aside a spot for me to sit and with a jittery hand, offered me a mug. We talked a bit about the American government (there are so few Americans traveling here that given the chance, most travelers are eager to discuss politics with me) and then he offered me some ketamine. I passed, and we decided to go for a lassi (a yummy drink made out of yogurt).

As we walked to the restaurant, I quickly deduced from his twitching eyes and inability to walk in a straight line that Fritz was ON something; probably the ketamine he'd offered me earlier. When we got to the restaurant, the dialog went something like this:

Fritz: "One sweet lassi."
Waiter: "Yes sir, and for you?" (turning to me)
Fritz: (interjecting) "No wait. Make that two sweet lassis."
Waiter: (nods, turns to me again)
Fritz: "Two sweet lassis. And an apple lassi."
Waiter: (turning back to Fritz with an acknowledging head wobble) "No problem."
Fritz: "Wait. Two sweet lassis. And an apple lassi. And a banana lassi. And uh, a grape lassi. Oh, and a vegatable thali and a tomato and cheese omelet."

I sat silently sipping my one sweet lassi (it was absolutely delicious) and watched him down three of his five lassis before excusing myself to go to the post office. Tomorrow we'll move to Anjuna.