11th to 17th March, 2017

Well, here we are in Goa. Nothing to report on the flight, though the taxi we procured at Goa Airport was a bit of an experience as it seems we have met India’s answer to Lewis Hamilton! The roads are quite narrow in places too, but with surprisingly quick acceleration, thankfully good brakes and a horn that was in the finest of fettle, we made it to our next stop in South Goa in record time. We did get a chance to have a look at the local area, though it was often flashing by in a blur or our attention was more aimed towards what was in front, beside and behind us. What we did see was a pleasant surprise as most of the houses were painted and in very bright colours at that. It seems the Portuguese had a policy that all houses had to be colour-washed after each monsoon and the habit seemed to have stuck for the most part. There are still plenty of old Portuguese-style houses and we plan to visit some during our stay.

We are staying at the Karma Royal Haathi Mahal resort in Cavelossim, which is about 45 minutes drive from the capital Panaji (depending who is driving!). Goa is one of the smallest states in India with only 1.5 million people, but the one with the highest GDP per capita largely due to the 2 million plus tourists each year, both foreign and local. Our resort reflects this with a mixture of mostly Brits and Indians with a sprinkling of Russians as Goa is so popular with the latter that most signs are in English and Cyrillic script.

We have a nice apartment, though it is looking its age some what, but there is a nice pool, restaurant and TWO table tennis tables and a pub! I have yet to take any photos of the resort, but here are some of the apartment to keep you going.

So far we have filled our days with a bit of breakfast, some table tennis, some swimming for me and the gym for Val, lying by the pool, playing Yahtzee (Val has opened up a 7 point lead) and reading. We usually skip lunch and then wander out for supper at one of the restaurants outside the resort. So far we have tried a couple of small local ones, an Italian (bad restaurant, as Donald T would say), a Greek (good) and a big all-singing-all-dancing one that was good and has live music every now and then. They even ferry you to their beach shack some evenings, which we sort of enjoyed. I say sort of as the location was nice and the food good, but the music was booming and we had fallen in with another couple on the way there in the back of the jeep and agreed to eat together. They (Lester and Linda) were perfectly nice, but we experienced what we are now convinced is a particularly British phenomenon whereby the couple you are chatting with never actually ask you any questions. I honestly think we would have had the meal in silence if Val and I had not kept up a stream of questions. For our part, we know that they live in Weston-super-Mare (though Lester was originally from Birmingham), they were married in 1974, they have a son and a daughter, the former having step children in their late teens, the latter having 3 children, Lester works in. primary school helping with maintenance and IT, Linda in a home for the elderly, they have three websites, one for them, one for their camper van and one for Lester’s model railway. I could also tell you at least six destinations of previous holidays. I could go on! All they know about us is that I once worked in Papua New Guinea. Not one single question about us – why is that? It baffles us.

It has not all been hanging round the pool. We did walk down to the beach and had a drink at one of the many shacks. Goa has a policy of not allowing hotels on the beaches. Nice beach, though swimming can be a bit dangerous. We were bemused that there were red flags to denote where not to swim, but there were still people swimming there. Val asked a lifeguard about them and he just sort of shrugged. I presume that either the flags are placed randomly as a gesture to health and safety or they employ the Darwin Award philosophy that if you are stupid enough to swim there, then it is no bad thing if you remove yourself from the gene pool through your own stupidity.

We have been on one outing so far, to the Anjuna Market, almost 2 hours north of where we are staying. The hotel will call up a taxi off the rank in strict Hobson’s Choice method since the cabbies operate a unionised system with fixed prices for wherever you want to go, though it depends I find you want a small or big taxi. Being only two of us, we went for the small version and so up the ramp to the hotel lobby comes the smallest taxi you are likely to see this side of Lilliput. It was a bit bigger than the old Fiat 600 and at the wheel was 65 year old Anthony. For a moment it looked as though we would not actually leave the hotel as he kept stalling in an attempt to gain the tarmac of the road. Finally we were off and it was nice and steady mostly, though there were certainly some fellow users of the road who incurred his wrath – women bikers, bikers who rode two abreast chatting to each other, speed bumps (not that he always spotted them in time), buses, cars and virtually most of the rest. He was a great grumbler too who basically felt that life was much better under the Portuguese and it was all downhill from when they left (or were kicked out) in 1962. Val tried to snooze and I decided I had better just make agreeing noises and make sure he stayed awake and relatively calm. How Val could sleep when he was on the horn every 5 seconds, I will never know. Especially when he decided that someone needed a particularly long blast! Never dull.

The market was excellent with sellers from all over India. It covers a very large area, but only operates in a Wednesday.

You could have filled a suitcase (indeed we saw someone doing so) with goodies and still not have finished. Of course haggling is demanded -and demanding – aiming to end up at anything as low as 40% of the starting price or better! A few photos of what was on offer….. so much colour.

And then there are the people, both Indian and from abroad. I love the group I snapped on the road with the sign Future Hippie behind them.

And then there were all those things that needed the arty touch…..

And lastly, a couple of snaps of Val. The background wall was such a strong colour I couldn’t resist. I would add that we had just spent a hot session at the market including buying the necklace she is wearing.

Ok, that’s all folks!

More soon from sunny Goa!