Goa

Goa, India without the austerities, not that there have been that many austerities on this trip.

I got off the train in Pernem at 9am on December 5th, totally rested after a pleasant night train ride from Mumbai. The station was quiet, two dogs and a lone person approached, the man asking if I needed a rickshaw, I declined and he faded away into the waiting room while the dogs followed me along the platform. Four other people had got off the train with me. Their awaiting friends helped them with their bags and they too soon disappeared leaving me alone, save for my canine companions, on the platform. I retired to the ladies room for a well earned wash and freshen up.

Revived and smelling a whole lot better, I booked my return train to Mumbai for the 15th for a mere 275RPS and walked the 200m to the main road to wait for the bus to Aranbol. I was now back on familiar territory. My last visit to this part of the world had been in 2004. I had learnt my first lessons of 'travel' rather than 'holiday' here in 2002. As the bus drove the half hour trip to Aranbol the landscape was familiar, the smells and sounds reassuring, the destination was known, and the price of 10RPS for the 15k trip great.






I was dropped at Aranbol village along with two German boys with big rucksacks. “This way” I called cheerfully and headed left out of town.





300m further was the sign for the beach, hanging at the same angle that it had hung at 9 years ago!.





Two young girls smiles shyly as we walked towards them,







then bravely asked if I could take their photo.






We passed the bakery where I had bought rolls for 1RPS each a few years ago, they were now 4 for 10RPS but just as fresh and nice.





We walked past the laundry that now had 'Machine Washing' as opposed to their old soap beating technique of 9 years ago.






At the bottom of the lane a new path led down to the beach. “You can get to the beach that way or you can follow this road further into town,” I said to my companions. They waved and headed for the beach.





The main street was so much busier than my last visit, but I had a vague idea of where I wanted to end up and an even vaguer idea of how to get there!





I turned to the right and wandered in the shade of the stalls that now lined both sides of the road selling the most colourful clothing, spices, bags,





jewellery and everything else you could possibly need.






People passed by on Enfields, dreadlocks flowed, full skirts swayed and I felt so at home.





The beach however was not as I remembered. Beach huts now ranged as far as the eye could see.





On my last stay the beach front had lasted maybe 800m, now restaurants, massage retreats and even a permanent Lifeguard Centre dominated the long stretch of sand.



WiFi had also reached a few of the beach restaurants. I enquired about huts with Wifi but it was only available in the restaurants so I looked at a few huts nearby and eventually settled on the most superb spacious hut (right next to a restaurant with said WiFi)





WITH an attached bathroom for a negotiated price of 350RPS.





Within 24 hours my plan to re-explore Goa had disappeared. I booked and paid for 10 nights, emptied my bags and began to set up home.






I walked the beach collecting some wonderful shells of various colours and sizes.





A few pieces of nylon rope, two broken fishing floats, some string and twigs completed the scavenge.





Back on the porch my treasures were examined, de-tangled





and within 10 minutes the first, of what was to become many, mobiles graced my new home.





Next came a shopping expedition for basic supplies. Fresh veg and fruit was gathered along with a sharp knife, a strong needle, some thread.





My home was established.





That evening as the sun set over the Arabian Sea,





I retired to the Olive Garden and ordered a Thali for 90RPS.






I had eaten at very irregular intervals for the past week, and very little for the
weeks before that. When a HUGE plate of veg fried rice, dahl, mixed veg, salad, curd, two rotis plus a pada arrived I was totally overwhelmed.

I ate a third and was full. I worked on-line for an hour while the food waited patiently for me and tried again, half of the remaining 2/3 was forced into my shrunken stomach. I rested once more but still failed to complete the meal. £1.10 worth of food had beaten me into submission and I retired to bed fit to burst.





Over the next few days a routine formed that was neither strenuous nor lazy.





Each day began with an early morning walk along the beach.





I wandered past people doing their morning yoga,





some worked alone,





others in groups.







They did long stretches,






extended back arches,






while I stooped occasionally to collect my shells or paused to admire the sand castles.





Dogs rested in the cool of the morning watching as the world passed by.






As I passed they would rise to walk beside me curiously examining anything I found
or picked up as I went.





My breakfast consisted of fruit and veg eaten on the front porch of my hut and followed by some artful construction in the form of mobile making.





Left over orange peal was cut and sewn into strings ,





melon seeds were strung and incorporated with carved bottle remains to form flowing shapes that soon covered the front of the hut.





10am to 12 noon was spent on the beach, catching a few rays, swimming in the sea and chatting to the girls who work the beaches selling sarongs, beads and massages for “Very good price!”





By 1am I would have showered back at the hut, rested







and be ready for a walk to the village.






Here I would buy fresh hot rolls, more fresh fruit







and delightful sugar/milk manglarti sweets before a few more hours of construction on the balcony.






Bit by bit the front porch filled up with various designs and creations.





People stopped by to admire and chat. I was asked to hold a class at the Free School next door. My face and name became familiar with people as the Mobile lady's fame spread through the neighbourhood!





The hour prior to Sunset each day is spent sitting on the beach in front of the Full Moon Restaurant as people gather to play drums, dance, hool-a-hoop, juggle, belly dance, laugh and talk.





Friends are made, conversations spread to incorporate others, ideas and advice is thrown around freely and smiles are abundant.





The Full Moon arrived complete with a Total Eclipse, people danced, sang and called to the moon. Fire jugglers threw flames into the sky as the moon slid behind the shadow of the earth.





The parties that ranged alone the beach that night were amazing!





Once the sun has dipped below the horizon, supper is had by candle light upon the sandy beach as chairs and tables are moved out of the restaurants onto the now cool beach.




The Internet is accessed, dinner is eaten in stages as my stomach learns to accommodate the excess food. Bed is found by 9pm, lights out by 10pm.






That was until Lisa and Katie arrived!