Falls and Spices, Following The Tourist Trail in Goa

Blog Part 5

Falls and Spices

Having made all the necessary arrangements, agreed a price plus the various destinations, we woke early the day after our trek to the Fort, to join Rajesh in his super little Taxi for an entire day of trips and tourist style money spending.

We settled into the 2 hour journey to the falls, (the furthest point of our travels) stopping once or twice to pick up cooling water, fresh rolls from a passing, horn tooting, cycling bread boy,and also some fuel for the Taxi.

Near the Western border of Goa with Karnataka we turned right, travelled another 2 or 3 k South and eventually entered a small village full of what looked like total chaos but is in fact totally under the careful orchestration of the Head Jeep man. Taxis crept forward, cars reversed tooting their horns, cows ambled through the throng, oblivious to the noise, while every person stepping out of a vehicle and onto the street was immediately surrounded by half a dozen street sellers trying to ply their wares.

Above this cacophony of sound and movement comes the unmistakable voice of the conductor as he plays out the symphony of the day.. “You, How many people?”, “You, 700 Rupees, pay your driver entrance at the gate!”, “You three, 1800Rupees, stand over there!”, “You six, go with him!” “You there, you join these people and go with this man!”. All is arranged, the crowd gets smaller, more taxi's arrive to disgorge their occupants into the medley. The music flows and ebbs as the tourists are directed to their designated Jeeps. The street sellers lose interest in the departing backs and turn their attention to the new arrivals as life goes on.

We joined the music, paid our money, followed our directions and were swept away into a Jeep by a smiling boy. The tarmacked road ends here and it is a 9k bouncing, river fording, bone shaking, off-roading Jeep trip, through the National Park, to the base of the falls.

The views are breathtaking, (if one could stay in one place long enough to either photograph or fully appreciate them) the greenery even at this time of year is splendid. Tall brown clay termite mounds reach up into the air, funnel spiders spin their delicate filigree nets along the floor and over the entrances of their underground lairs. Up and down the rutted track we thundered, Jeep overtaking Jeep on the narrow path. Even here the urge to overtake everything and one, is still the dominant emotion to be found within the ranks of the people holding steering wheels.

Buttock bruised, and shaken to the extreme (but not stirred) we gratefully reached the place where even these solid sturdy Jeeps have to stop. Here our driver became our guide taking my camera in his capacity as official photographer of the day.

He led us across bridges, (with a stop for a photo)

up ridges (more stops for the photos)

past large rocks (you guessed it, photo shoot time)

0ver smooth plateaus and beneath mountainous trees.

Monkeys lined the path waiting for their obligatory bananas, posing, (as did we) for their photo at each recognised stop, performing (as did we) for the photographer and my camera.

The Falls themselves however are more than worth the tourist trail up even at this dry time of year. Cascading down the mountain and under the three arched rail bridge, it falls at last into the sweetest plunge pool.

On my various other visits to the Falls,  the water has been spring mountain cold causing what I term Ice-cream Head as you emerge from your dive into the deceptively cool water.

Today it was fresh and reviving, positively warm once one was immersed. (Maybe there is something to be said for braving the 36+ degree summer after all.

We swam to the edge of the falls, swimming hard against the current caused by the falling water.

We swam through the actual falling water, Peter remarking on how hard it hit his head and all dreams of making love under a waterfall were crushed from his mind!

We swam, we dried, we ate our picnic, the monkeys, now aware of our lack of bananas, moving on to the next arrivals (much like the street sellers far below).

Refreshed, photographed to death yet very happy, we descended over the rocks, bridges and rock plains to the awaiting bone shaker and hurtled our way back to our waiting Taxi.

Next came the Spice Plantation.

When I had visited in 1998, the entrance fee was nominal, the tour extensive, food and drinks were available in the small café at the end of your tour and fresh coconuts were chopped before your very eyes to be served with a straw, should you require them.

Food is now included in the price, a compulsory meal of rice, meat or non meat stew, bread, lime chutney, curried cabbage and a popadom is served alternatively in one of two covered seating areas in 20 minute intervals from 11am onwards. Drinks are still extra but you do get a glass of Cardamom, Ginger and Lemon-grass tea as you sit down.

You also get a small garland and a dot of red powder upon your forehead as you enter through the gates clutching your receipts and wondering what happened to your non existent change. Every 20 minutes or so, coinciding with the meal, three sari clad ladies (the ones who dotted and garlanded you upon arrival) dance around the Tulsi Bush in the courtyard outside the covered seating areas, singing their 'Traditional Song' while you eat.

The tour is now compact, although very informative and well presented, it is over in 15 minutes and you return just in time to see the Sari Ladies repeat their dance as the next Spice Plantation tourists eat!

They do have one added bonus to my previous visit, the Elephant Wash! You can sit upon an elephant as she treads a well worn path around a small circuit for 600Rps (£8) or you can sit on her back and walk 10m to a large tank where upon our beloved pachyderm sucks up a healthy supply of water in her glorious trunk and then throws it all over her back and any-one who happens to be sitting there.

The children were delighted and by having two children (having paid two fees of 600Rps) sitting on her back at the same time, they had twice as long.

Water was sloshed, trumpeted, thrown, blown and generally sent in all directions as two openly laughing children became drenched and cooled in the mid day sun.

The children were returned to us wet and happy, the elephant was fed tomatoes (for a price),

clothing was recovered and we left (as the Tulsi ladies once more performed their Traditional dance in front of the eating tourists) to find our Taxi.

We dried, we changed, we combed our hair and made ourselves presentable.



Next stop The Temples.

Two delightful Temples lie just outside Ponda half way back from the Falls. One is dedicated to Ganesh, the other to Shiva.

The Ganesh temple is a small highly decorated cool and relaxing place. It lies opposite an imposing, well painted grand double stairway that zig-zags upon itself to lead you to a large statue of a great Sikh General. Although stunning to view we turned and walked directly to the small temple. We paid our obeisances to the forms enshrined in the inner sanctum, circumnavigated the central shrine three times, received our blessed water and looked around. The Ten incarnations of Vishnu adorned the walls so I told the story of Lord Nrsimhadevi much to the horror and fascination of Angharad.

Outside and in need of more cooling water, I discovered the sweet milk balls so loved by my children and I, in a jar upon the small shops' front counter. Angharad, Peter and then Cian were introduced to this fudge like delicacy but only Angharad appreciated this wonder of India as the boys declared them too sweet to pallet!!

Shiva's temple, by comparison is a huge affair. The road was closed due to a Festival the next day and we walked the 300m path through a growing collection of stalls to the main entrance. I bought flowers to offer for 10Rps, removed my shoes, washed my feet and entered the main courtyard.

People flowed around the area, a large chariot lay to one side ready for its decorative flowers that would transport the Deity in his journey around the village. Brahmans chanted, took offerings, blessed items and people alike, poured water into hands and generally helped where they could. One took us to the side wall and explained the origins of the temple and deity.

He led us outside to the spare chariots hidden away in an arch way, these we could photograph he said but no photos outside this room he warned. He looked at Peter and asked his profession. “Taxi Driver” answered Peter. Our Brahman proceeded to tell us how the next year would proceed, “With certain people I can see things, “ he said, looking at the children. He told us where their futures lay, told me things I hope to be true. He asked for a donation and left us.

We stood a little overwhelmed for a moment or two, took a few photos and returned to the main temple. We gave thanks for the blessings and experience, collected our shoes and went to leave.

Just at the top of the stairs leading down to the stalls below, stood a man with what looked to be bags of brown sweets. I approached to discover an entire stall of my delicious, tongue delighting, soul lifting, heart stimulating, mouth watering fudge sweets!!! I bought two bags at 90Rps each and again thanking Shiva for my treats hurried after the departing children and Peter.

Next stop Dona Paula on the coast.

In 2004, Lisa, Kris and I had planned to bring Mark to India. We had decided that Goa would be a nice gentle introduction for him but discovered flights to be astronomical (£560). The plan was put on hold.

(Photo from India 2004)

Then, last minute, I had discovered a package deal too good to be true. Two weeks for £499, including flights, bed as well as breakfast at a little Hotel in a place I had not heard of, Dona Paula.

Our adventure had been perfect. We had spent two nights at the hotel before disappearing North for 4 days, then returned and went South for another few days before enjoying a boat trip and some wonderful indulgences in comparative luxury until our flight home.

I was curious to see if it had changed as much as the rest of Goa and I also wanted to see if my little hotel was still there.

Being a Saturday the place was brimming with visitors, mainly Indian. We strode up to the look out point, gazed back at the coast line and leaving Peter and the children to refresh themselves with fresh made lemon sodas I went in search of my hotel.

It was indeed still where I remembered, still in the same name and still with the beautiful grounds that led down to the private beach. The only thing that had changed was the price. Although I never paid a daily rate, as I mentioned before, the entire holiday including flights and transfers had cost us £499 a person. For the exact same room (including breakfast) they now charged 3200Rps a night!! Plus 15% Tax extra!!!!! Slowly I worked out that 14 nights in the same two rooms would now cost me 103,040 or £1288 and flights would be on top!! I smiled politely, took their brochure and left. Next stop Shopping.

During one of my trips down into the South of India, I picked up a wonderful square double bed mosquito net. Angharad and I had slept soundly under it in Arambol, Peter and I had used it on the balcony at Aswern. There were no nets at Francis's place mainly because we had glass windows to close preventing all bar the odd one from entering.

There is a wonderful saying – if you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito in the room! The children we had covered with the one net we had, Peter and I had received a restless nights sleep and more than our fare share of bites after leaving the door open a touch too long the night before. A second net was now an essential necessity.

Rajesh took us first to the obligatory antique shop where if one shows adequate interest he receives a small fee, even if you don't buy something, more if you do. 20 minutes asking questions and exploring the fine arts is usually enough to get your driver his fee and everyone is happy (except the shop keeper who with his inflated prices does not deserve your custom)

Having satisfied our driver he then took us to where we really wanted to go – the local market. Hidden behind a front of shops unseen by the tourist eye, lies a maze of stalls and networks to rival any Souk in Morocco. Nighties for 170Rps (£2.10) Mossy nets for 400Rps, shoes, dresses, baubles, scarves, pots, pans, spices, bags, anything and everything can be found somewhere within the maze. We picked up what we needed including a few samosas for good measure and while Peter and the children enjoyed some cooling drinks I reserved us rooms in a great hotel right next door to this shoppers heaven in anticipation for our shopping frenzy just before we leave.

We had marched, we had looked, we had swum, smelt, laughed, prayed, been blessed, seen sights and shopped ourselves out. It was time to return to our rooms, to shower and rest, to hang up our new net and for some of us to try on our new clothes!

We spent the evening safe under our nets reading and talking about the days events.

In the morning journals would be filled with the wonders and details of the day. Our day of excursions would be followed by a day of rest. The children would sit upon our balcony, I would take a final stroll around the side streets and alleys.

We would walk the beach, dine with the sand beneath our toes and make plans to move on.

Candolim, is Candolim, and no matter how beautiful the long sweeping beach is, no matter how many wall to wall cheap cafés there are to while away the day, no matter how great the restaurants, with aromas to set your mouth watering from afar, or the multitude of side roads full of shops brimming with colour and trinkets, all full of tourists happy and smiling, Candolim is still Candolim and it is not the India I came in search of.

We have decided to go South, out of Goa and into Karnataka.

Soon The Adventure will continue but tonight …... we sleep, safe from the bugs and tell tale whines of tiny things that bite in the night. .