Panjim

Panjim - the End of the Adventure

There are cities I just don't like and those I do. Panjim is one that simply works. It is interesting, it is friendly, it is not too big and the hidden markets that lurk behind the huge glass fronted shops are a shoppers delight!

We booked into the large hotel over looking one of the the hidden markets and were shown a room different from the one I had seen on our visit four weeks previous. “No, no” I smiled pointing to the floor above, “I want that room please,” and pointed to a room at the front with a wide balcony.

A quick discussion was held between the manager and bell boy, buzzers were rung and more people joined the debate. The room was indeed available but it had not been cleaned since the last occupants had moved out that morning. “No problem,” I beamed, “We will wait!” The bags were stored in the rooms wardrobe as a flurry of activity spilled into the room.

We left as bed sheets, soap, floor mops and people began their preparations and went to explore the city.

Panjim itself is not huge. A long street runs along the estuary that feeds into the sea at Miranda Beach 3km from where we stood. A stroll along the wide pavement in the shade of the huge trees that grew at amazing angles and reached across the road to join with those on the other side was just what we needed after our long bus ride.

We discovered a large park shaded by even more trees with walkways, flower-beds, play areas, a boating pool and comfortable seats. A cooling breeze blew softly through the branches, birds filled the air with songs and the noise from the city faded into the back ground.

The children swung and climbed while we sat and watched. Other children came and went, people strolled by alone and in couples. This was obviously THE place to hang out during the hot mid day sun.

The beach was reached, refreshments purchased (at tourist city prices!) before we returned to our spotless high story room for a little nap.

Eating in Panjim city is a joy. 90% of all the food in the restaurants is vegetarian, 100% of the street food is vegetarian. As the evening began to fall street corners became filled with small hand pulled carts selling amazing foods from full Thalis, to baked corn on the cob and roasted nuts.

Men pulled up stools in closed shop doorways to repair watches while others arrived with boxes which they stacked up to make cupboard like shelves. These small boxes were, in turn, opened up to reveal a myriad of compartments full of mysterious things as the owner rolled paan for the steady supply of customers on their ways home. Each betel leave was rolled around a mixture of ground areca nut and spices before being popped into the mouth of the happy customer to chew.

We watched from our balcony as the streets changed from day light activities to evening ones.

Yet even here in the big city life stops as darkness falls and by 10pm the streets were deserted save for the rats that scurried through the gathered debris of the day.

We rose refreshed and ready for our final day in India. Shopping was on the agenda and Peter knew exactly what he wanted.

We reached the fruit market one street over and climbed the steps to the upper floor.

From here we had an amazing view across the hall. Fruits of all colours and sizes were stacked to incredible heights.

People stood high on the counters behind their man created mountains to wait, to sleep, to serve as others stretched out in the pathways, resting after their long journeys into town.

Just before we left on this trip Peter had discovered the joys of Indian cooking. Our kitchen had been transformed as Asian ingredients had replaced our more traditional ones. What he needed now were pots and pans, serving dishes and trays.

We reached the tiny shop/cupboard that Peter had found the evening before and he began his order.

“I'll have one of these, two of these and do you have one of these but a bit bit bigger?” he grinned pointing his way around the shop.

The boys climbed, reached, unpacked and repacked, piling up Peters desires on their tiny counter. An entire cooker was bought as I looked on in amazement, we would need another bag at this rate!

The cost of the cooker, three large cooking pots and a huge assortment of spoons, bowls and trays was an amazing £25!

Angharad had spotted the bangle store a few openings along and the money in her purse was burning a hole as she gazed.

100 rupees saw her adorned with 25 vivid green bangles made just to her size.

Next came the last of the cloth shopping, Nighties for £2 were found in the market, shorts for £1 as the bag was filled until bursting point.

Back in the room everything was laid out on the beds and sorted.

Clothes were packed around tins, bikinis were stuffed inside pots, the cooker was wrapped and bound in sarongs before being lowered into the big bag bought in Anjuna market. As each piece was lowered and packed inside the spacious bag we marvelled at how well we travelled. Even with all our shopping we still had room to spare.

The large bag was sewn shut ready for the long journey home, the last of the clothes were placed in the children's bags, the school work stored in Cians hand luggage. We looked upon our accumulated belongings and smiled.

We dined for our last evening in a large vegetarian restaurant ordering one dish each with a few rotis for luck. The waiter looked at us surprised but said nothing. Evening meals started at 7pm, it was now 6.30 so we settled to wait and to watch the passing crowd.

People filed in ordering the most amazing doshas, huge dishes filed out of the kitchen on trays held high by immaculately dressed waiters. At 7 on the dot an enormous tray approached our table. Dishes big enough to feed four people each were unloaded onto the table filling it to overflowing. We stared in disbelief at the enormity of the meal in front of us and began!

Our stomachs were distended by the time we finished, plates still held food but we could eat no more. We retired to the balcony to enjoy the cooling evening air, the children stretching out on the beds, full and sleepy.

The taxi was booked for 3.45am, the bags were packed, there was nothing else for us to do.

At 3am Peter and I stood in the quiet of the night and gazed at the sleeping city. It had been an amazing seven weeks, we had taken the children from one end of Goa to the other, they had not only survived but had learnt so much as we had moved from place to place.

Cian still had to master the NO SCRATCHING rule that is paramount to surviving the multitude of mosquito bites one receives in all tropical climates but at least this time he had not scratched himself to the open sores he had inflicted upon himself in Egypt.

Soon we would all be back in the UK. Peter and the children would be returning to Wales, I was planning to spend a few days with Lisa in Southampton before flying out to see Kris in Fiji.

The rains would soon sweep across India washing away the debris and dust. I looked out once more at the quiet city longing to remain, then turned my head, got myself into travel mode and woke the children.

P.S.
In Mumbai Airport Peter was called to claim the sewn shut Indian Bag before they would load it onto the plane. Under X-ray they had seen what they thought looked liked a bomb! Everything had to be unpacked and explained, as the wires and cooker were displayed under heavy scrutiny.

Why did he have it? What was it for? He explained he had bought it new in Panjim. It didn't look new they commented. Did anything look new in India he countered. They checked the cooker once more smelling and swiping it for traces of substances volatile before nodding to allowed him to repack it. The carefully sewn bag was tied back up with string and trusting to faith was loaded along with the hundreds of other bags onto the plane!

I just love India!

xxx