The Primrose Cafe is a not so thrilling place with an open air garden and an indoor dancefloor. One can see that the proprietors did not really push things for their patrons. However, if there would have been a good party, I wouldn't have cared so much. But there was no party. Well, the music was on, but the indoor dancfloor was totally deserted and only about 20 to 25 people occupied the beergarden.
Some of the patrons obviously made an effort to dress up. They wore quite out-fashioned pants with a 100 zippers and shoes with 20cm soles. I don't really remember, but this was en vogue in the mid-nineties for about a week until everyone realized how crappy this tatters look. But this is Goa. The rest of the patrons were some wanting-to-look-young remains of the heydays of the 60s.
Considering my impressions from the beach last afternoon and what I saw at the "party", the only thing I can say about Goa is that it is a very sad reminisence of the 60s and the 90s when this was the place to be. Today, I would almost say that going on holidays to Mallorca (El Arenal) is much less awkward than admitting to having visited Goa.
I saw Keith Richards at the beach again. I assume that he has constantly been smoking shit since 1968 and didn't realize that the world had turned and that we have the year 2005 now. He undeniably lives in a different world.
A German guy who has already been to Goa last year confessed that a year ago, he went out until sunrise every day. But all beach parties have been canceled this year.
I spent the afternoon with the French couple and we had dinner together. My French still doesn't improve and I never get any of the girl's jokes...