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A lesson for Goans in fate of Asbury Park beach

by Karin Larsen
Karin Larsen was an American student on a Fulbright scholarship to study and make a documentary film on Goan identity and culture and posted this article in Jan 1997

New Jersey, like Goa, is a small coastal state in the United States whose beaches attract tourists from all parts of the country and from around the world. All arrive with preconceived notions of a particular beach scene, created mostly by tourist brochures and returning vacationers.

I grew up amidst this beach scene, watching as every five to ten years a new beach becomes trendy and everyone â locals and tourists alike â rushes to make the most out of this new trend.

I have traveled extensively in Goa and have just returned from a trip to the north beaches of Baga, Calangute and Anjuna. And in Goa, a place situated halfway around the world, I am shocked to discover the same tourist boomtown cycles starting here that I have witnessed at the beaches near my hometown in America. In particular, I am reminded of the legend of Asbury Park beach, whose dilapidated hotels, crime-infested neighbourhoods and litter beaches seem a far cry from the grandeur it once claims to have been.

Legend holds that in the 1950âs Asbury Park beach became a popular place for tourists hoping to escape the doldrums of everyday working life. A stretch of clean beach, colonial bungalows set back from the shore, and tree-lined avenues increased the townâs charm. But as its popularity as a holiday tourist destination increased, so did the demand for housing and localsâ ideas of how to capitalize on the increasing tourist traffic.

Locals constructed restaurants and bars along the beach, the migrants poured in from the more congested areas of neighbouring states like New York. They quickly set up stalls along the boardwalk, selling everything from T Shirts and beach bags to ice-cream and peanuts. Trees were cut down and green parks sold off to make more space for the construction of large hotels, complete with swimming pools and air-conditioning.

But in their rush to squeeze fast cash out of touristsâ pockets, everyone somewhere along the way forgot what it was that attracted tourists to their towns to begin with: the unspoilt, beautiful beaches. For even as construction increased, tourists continued to pour into Asbury Park, lured more by advertisement and legend than current reality.

Prices for food and accommodation skyrocketed, forcing out long staying travelers who patronized local establishments. At first few noticed the change in both the touristsâ and townâs character as money flowed in, but many locals began putting their houses on the market and moving away, leaving the beach to the migrants from the cities, the hotel owners, and the tourists.

Thus began the slow, silent exodus from this booming tourist Mecca to the less crowded beaches further south. Travel agents, however, still touted Asbury as the premier place on the New Jersey coast, and tourists came in droves, though they left more than a bit disappointed by the myriad of shops, restaurants, and high-rise hotels constructed sporadically with little foresight or aesthetic planning. They also felt dismayed by the rowdy crowds, the constant noise, and the garbage littering the streets and beaches.

Eventually, word spread and even tourists followed the southern exodus to more clean, peaceful, natural surroundings. Consequently, with the tourist trade slowing to a mere trickle, city migrants, now permanently settled in Asbury, found their livelihoods threatened. Property values dropped as the last of the original families sold their homes, and Asbury Park soon became a name poisonous to travel agents looking to sell vacations. Even the luxury hotels faced hardships. The only flow that proceeded unabated was that of migrants from the big cities, lured by legend, over-crowded conditions and word of cheap beachfront property.

Asbury Parkâs infrastructure quickly buckled under pressure from these incoming migrants and virtually no maintenance of public facilities. Violence and poverty spread, and to this day few dare to venture in many neighbourhoods in Asbury Park after dark.

How is this place like Goa? Like Asbury, Baga and Calangute in the 1960âs and â70s became renowned as popular tourist destinations. Yet if you are ever driven through these places you are more apt to find rows of hotels, restaurants and shops than attractive palm-fringed beaches. As in Asbury, hotels have been hastily constructed and migrants have poured in to set up shop along the beach.

This is painfully obvious on a Wednesday in Anjuna, where the beach resembles more a city market than a tropical beach. Similarly, the long-staying tourists and budget travelers have also moved north, towards Vagator, Chapora and Arambol, where the beauty of the beaches is less disrupted by man. Of those who do lodge in Baga and Anjuna, the majority rent motorbikes and flee north, seeming more like participants in a cross-country bike race than tourists searching for peaceful beaches as they race off the ferry from Chapora.

Not surprisingly, locals are complaining about the lack of tourists this year when compared with years past. Tourists also are complaining about the conditions of beaches like Baga, Calangute and Anjuna. Need I say more?

The message here is: Goans, be warned! You live here, tourists do not. The stark truth is that unsatisfied tourists will simply move on to a different beach when one becomes too commercialized, and eventually they will move out of Goa altogether.

I assure you that tourists would rather a few minutes ride to an unspoiled beach dotted only with an occasional food and beverage stall to the hasty mass commercialization occurring in Baga and Calangute. As a foreigner I am privy to the talk of tourists and have already heard the names Baga and Calangute becoming synonymous with construction and litter.

Remember that the unspoiled beaches, charming Indian villages, tree-lined roads and paddy fields are what attract tourists to Goa. If these are quickly converted into suburban commercialized centers, Goan beaches will have nothing unique to offer. For a state, which receives a lot of revenue from tourists, this is no small matter.

Has all been lost? Not yet. For example, in my home state of New Jersey there is a beach that has escaped this ominous cycle and is currently rated one of the best beaches on the New Jersey coast. Here, in Spring Lake beach, however, local people have strict control over the beaches, construction and commercial establishments. Fines are strictly enforced for even small offenses like beach littering, disturbing the peace, even improper parking.

Construction over two storeys is prohibited, and licensing requirements are strictly enforced. The townspeople hold regular meetings at which time they discuss how their townâs development should be planned and executed. Though somewhat restrictive, they realize that such measures have indeed been effective in maintaining the identity for which Spring Lake is known. It is a veritable oasis amidst a heavily trafficked state, attractive not only for its clean beach but also for its quaint quick town and beautifully maintained colonial homes.

Unfortunately, what I have been in Baga and Calangute bears a striking resemblance to the same shortsighted development, which was so disastrous in Asbury Park. The patterns are there, and Goans would be wise to consider Spring Lakeâs success story when formulating their own development plans. Locals must respect and take an active role in the presentation of their beaches and towns for these are also the wealth of the community.

Once the beaches are spoilt by cement hotels, random construction and litter, there is little left to respect.

Today, I have described two paths; one leading to the fate of Asbury Park and the other leading to that of Spring Lake. The future is in your hands, my friends.

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A lesson for Goans in fate of Asbury Park beach

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