I quietly sneak around the room in the morning, packing up the last of my belongings and trying not to wake anyone. I feel a bit bad that I won’t say a proper goodbye, but I really hate goodbyes anyway so this is better.
In the morning Ilona is feeling a little better and feels up to eating which is a miracle because she hasn’t eaten much in the last few days, so I go on a mission into the streets of Goa to find her some breakfast. She requested a muffin and I know that is going to be next to impossible but I try. I stumble upon a cafe about half a kilometre down from our hostel after being called over by every single shop keeper on the street. I am basically the only person walking around because not many people are up early in Goa, I guess it’s due to the beachy vacation vibe.
We wake up and leave that godforsaken place with the scary noises as soon as we can. We walk down the road to the new, more quaint and affordable hotel. We make plans to go for breakfast and then to hit up the beach but during our meal it seems that Ilona’s health has taken another turn for the worse and she won’t be able to make it to the beach. I go out into Baga on my own, where there is no sight seeing to do like there was in Jaipur, only a beach. Along with the beach come the classic beach shops including tattoo parlours, and rickety huts selling very cheap swimwear, floaties, and bongs with pictures of Bob Marley on them (yes even in India).