In Anjuna there is magnificent Albuquerque mansion built in 1920, flanked by octagonal towers and attractive Mangalore tiled-roof.
The Anjuna band plays for the beach party at night. Palm trees stand motionless in the warm air. To the east is a mountain. If you want to return to civilization, climb the mountain to get to Baga where you can catch a ferry out.
This is the Goa Freak capital of the World. Anjuna becomes a fair of colors.
Lines of vehicles full of tourists start virtually raising clouds of dust
in this area.
Anjuna attracts a weird and wonderful collection of over monks, defiant ex-hippies, gentle lunatics, artists, artisans, seers, searchers, sybarites and itinerant expatriates who normally wouldn't be seen out of the organic confines of their health-food emporia in San Francisco or London.
Full moon, when the infamous parties take place, is a particularly good time to be here if you want to indulge in bacchanalian delights.
Only a Brit would think about raving about the main beach, but it's worth the walk to the small, protected sliver of sand at South Anjuna where the area's long-term house-renters tend to gather.
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