Goa Freaks: My Hippie Years in India

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With special thanks to Richard Franken for his continuing friendship since these old Goa days and for his help and support with this book and with Patpong Sisters. I'd also like to acknowledge his photographic talent. Many of the photos used here are his.

"BAKSHEESH," MUTTERED the beggar, thrusting his palm at me as I walked through the Colaba section of Bombay. He should have recognized me by now. In that rainy monsoon, could there have been more than one young foreign woman with blue eyes, blonde hair, and a diamond in her nose? He had not gotten a rupee from me yet, and I'd been down that street every day the past week. Glaring at him, I swerved to avoid the palm of another barefoot beggar, a boy in tattered shorts. Something told me they'd had more to eat more than I had.

I waved my arm and yelled,  "CELLO," one of the few Hindi words I'd managed to pick up during my four years in India. "GO! GET AWAY!"

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