We share in the delight of the morning warmth, not yet baked into the oppressive heat that is sure to come. Our female companions are just in front of us, singing and holding hands. We are all wearing the compulsory Goan hippie garb that almost all young Westerners wear in these parts. The locals eye us bemusedly, not understanding why we don’t choose to deck ourselves in the Levi’s, Addidas and Nike that we can so obviously afford. No, we prefer to dress in cheap, loose-fitting rags: believing ourselves freed from our habitual consumerist trappings, we dress ourselves up in new ones.