Goa - Palolem, India
Palolem, India
Saturday 28th September Travelling on the overnight bus from Mysore to Goa required us to make a change at Bangalore at the main bus depot. It was night time around 11pm and we were already shattered. The new bus was packed to the rafters. Our seats were on the back row - Steves seat only reclined fully while mine was fixed bolt upright! Oh well at least the seats were together. We settled in for the night and decided to treat ourselves to one of our last episodes of Breaking Bad! We managed 5 minutes before the blaring Bollywood brainwashing movie came on at full volume - the same one we had been forced to listen to on the previous bus. Made all that little bit worst by sitting 6 inches from the speaker - great!!!! As you can imagine when we pulled into Canacona at 9am the following morning - our last stop we were a little bleary eyed. We waited for the local bus to take us the last few miles to Palolem in South Goa where we planned to recuperate for the next week. We hadn't booked accommodation in Palolem, partly because we couldn't find anything we liked online - or it was already fully booked. While I watched the bags Steve scouted out the options. What we didn't realise before we turned up in Palolem is that every year they have to rebuild most of the shops, restaurants and accommodation. This is because they can't get insurance during the monsoon period - and we arrived slap bang in the middle of the rebuild! Steve returned an hour later - he had found an absolute gem called Ferns by Kate's! A little sanctuary for two days. It was pretty pricy (£25 a night) but we deserved a treat after slumming it in Mysore and then on the bus from hell. Sunday 29th September Awaking in our sumptuous surroundings felt like we were on 'holiday'. Which sounds completely ridiculous for those reading - but travelling is a constant 24/7 job. Forever researching where to travel next and work out how to get there, where to stay, what to see, where to eat whilst forever dodging all the touts just willing to take your money at any opportunity - it's utterly exhausting. We take a stroll up the beach to check out the area and see all the construction that is underway. It isn't long before we are approached by two women who are incredibly friendly, they are the wives of the workers and have set up their own little 'shops' in their homes selling t-shirts, jewellery and throws. They implore us to come and visit but we somehow fend them off and say that we will but later - they make us shake their hands and promise to come back and not to talk to any more girls selling on the beach. After a spot of lunch and relaxing and checking out the small collection of shops that were up we headed back along the beach towards 'home'. We are instantly spotted..... and almost abducted to 'look' at their stock. Their home is behind our hotel so we reluctantly agreed...... Their home is a small one room hut - shared by three children, the two women and another who also had wares to sell, several men and goodness knows how many others. There is a little boy about 3 years old asleep on the floor as we arrive who is rolled to the edge of the mat that he is sleeping on to make way for the 'westerners' and another young girl cooking a pot of rice. The jewellery, T-shirts and throws are brought out for us to look at and when we say that we only want a throw there is almost uproar. The nice ladies we had met on the beach quickly turned wild eyed and greedy for our money. The hard sell began and we felt like we would be held hostage unless we bought one item from each of the ladies. We relented and ended up handing over about £12. We couldn't help feeling like we had been fleeced - but they had many mouths to feed and the ladies drove a hard bargain! Monday 30th September It was time to find some new digs - we couldn't afford to stay the the little oasis all week. We scouted the main stip and found a lovely place called Gaspers. We were instantly welcomed by the woman who ran it and her son, but it was their little puppy who won our hearts. We moved all our belongings in and for £7 a night it was simple yet perfect. Now the accommodation was sorted we turned our attention to sorting out the trains for our onward travel. We cannot book train tickets online ourselves in India online without an Indian mobile number, we therefore have to pop into one of the very many travel agents to get them to book them for us, while they take a small 50p commission. We needed two tickets - one to Mumbai and another on onto Agra. You would have thought this was a fairly easy process....... Not!! About 3 hours later we emerged from the travel agents exhausted but successful at having finally booked the Mumbai train - but had to return later that day to see if he could book one onto Delhi. With the whole morning spent in the travel agents we took a stroll to neighbouring Patnem beach to try and get back into the 'holiday mode'. Tuesday 1st October It's £2 a day to rent a moped in Palolem and 80p for a litre of petrol, which comes in a handy mineral water bottle, a yellow looking 'homebrew' and purchased from your friendly local 'newsagent'. We got a red scooter from Rosebuds for the day to explore the area and see if we could find any beaches off the beaten track and away from the small yet growing number of travellers. We headed off towards Agonda beach, taking it fairly slowly as we are both fairly inexperienced on motorbikes and the bike had already done 400k miles so probably wasn't in the best condition shall we say - and helmets are not an option! We tootled off for the afternoon and lounged around on Agonda beach which is a relatively unknown but is about to become one of the hot spots in Goa - and it has a fabulous unspoilt beach. Wednesday 2nd October Today is a 'dry day' in India because it is Gandhi's birthday - which means that no alcohol is sold in restaurants or bars. There are a number of these days in India throughout the year and in the various states who are governed by different laws. To celebrate Gandhi's birthday we decide to treat ourselves to flights from Mumbai to Jaipur for the following week:)! Topped off by eating Mexican food - yay no curry tonight!! The only slight irritation to the day is checking our emails and seeing that we have received yet another email from the Managing Agent of our property. This is the third email in a week asking on behalf of the idiot tenants we have the most basic questions such as that there are a few missing lightbulbs in the property..... we are waiting for the day when they make reference to the cat flap - but no cat ....! I will not bore you to tears on this subject but being a letting agent is a licence to print money - because basically they do sweet FA! Thursday 3rd October We take it easy and hit the local beach. Friday & Saturday Thursday evening I am struck down with the dreaded Delhi belly! I was grateful to have lasted this long, many friends who have had it have described the experience to something like dying. And I now can completely relate to it. To top it off it continued to rain solidly for the next two days while we festered in our box room. Steve was a complete champ looking after me going out and fetching drinks and supplies. And finding the first solid meal I could keep down in three days - Heinz baked beans. Sunday 6th October Its our final day in Palolem and fortunately I start to feel human again - and to top off the day the sun finally comes out. we make the most of the day and hire another scooter to find Turtle Beach. A lovely stretch of unspoilt beach but unfortunately we are a little early to see any turtles. Monday 7th October Our final morning in Goa saw us up at the crack of dawn again, too early even for the young lad who sleeps under the stairs to open the main gates. Instead we hopped over our ground floor balcony and exited into our awaiting taxi driven by the ever smiling Jai who had spoken to us almost everyday as we walked through town. A beautiful day, we left Goa sleeping apart from the little Alsatian - cross puppy yapping at the car, for the 1 hour journey to Margao train station to catch the 8.30 number 10104 Mandavi Express to Goa. A twelve hour train journey, it was anticipated at being a long and tedious day but having spent a number of hours in the local travel agent (foreigners booking train tickets whilst in India is almost impossible unless you have an India telephone number or wait a minimum 24 hours for a reply from the government run train operating company to set up an account) in Goa booking comfortable air-con seats, and having already experienced cattle class trains and epic bus journeys, we were confident enough it would be bearable. Arriving early as always we looked at the notice board found the train details and found a spot on the platform and waited. Successful established protocols in these situations see Catherine secure a spot and guard the bags whilst I scope around for essentials; platform numbers, water, snacks etc. Protocol ensued as normal only this time I happened a chance glance at the electric board above (more out of wonderment as it was the first working one I had seen in either Sri Lanka or India) and read 10104 Mandavi Express - Cancelled! (I added the exclamation mark). Not on the train yet and we already had a problem, notably; there apparently wasn't one. A quick power walk to the Station Master's office confirmed that indeed the 8.30 was cancelled. "Ok what shall I do?" "That one -Mumbai" he pointed behind me as another train at the platform was clearly minutes from leaving". "You sure?" Half hoping he would say no and make my decision for me. "Yes. Mumbai". Righto. I lightly jogged/sprinted back to Catherine and essentially swooped her and the luggage onto the train where I then explained. She wasn't convinced. Neither was I to be honest and once we found a seat and our breaths we embarked on our next challenge of confirming the trains destination. Previous experience both in Sri Lanka and India suggested we ask as many people the same question but which does not require a yes or no answer "Does this train go to Mumbai?" "Yes". "Does this train go to the moon?". "Yes". You get the picture. I asked a few of the numerous food and drink sellers ('ll get on to them in a bit) what time the train arrived in Mumbai and although it was anytime between that evening and Christmas we were confident it was the Mumbai train. A stressful hour completed we settled relatively comfortably for the ensuing 12 hours. Or so we thought. After a few hours we were asked for our tickets and after explaining what had happened were let known that it didn't matter, we were on the wrong train. Already slightly miffed and with the conductor's' attitude less than satisfactory (he was a knob - global differences in culture do not limit a man's immediate instinct to recognise when his fellow man is nothing but a ****) a 5 min stand off ensued where the conductor told us he "would be back". We semi-settled again. For the next few hours we trundled on stopping at numerous stations for what seemed 30mins at a time. Trying to cross check the stations with the map in the book, it seemed that geographically we were making good progress yet time wise we still had hours to go. How could the 100miles or so we had left take 7 hours? That would be around 14miles per hour! Correct. If a train stops at every station in a 100mile stretch for around 20-30mins to let on the world and his brother to sell baked goods, curries, sweets, rice, tea, and coffee then yes the journey probably was going to take 7 hours more. Minimum. The conductor came back and barked something about sitting in reserved seats and having to move. Fair enough but we had reserved seats as well. On the train that was cancelled. He still didn't care and we moved further down the train to another carriage. The further down the train you move the ******* and more packed it gets. Originally we were in coach 3, we had poached coach 6 and were now being ushered to coach 10. I almost felt myself becoming a local as I hiked our rucksacks down the isles. I contemplated hacking and spitting to blend in, a peace ritual to those whose dwelling we were about to share. I reconsidered, Catherine was looking less than amused as it was. We found another spot and accepted that at least we were here for the duration and could spend the next 5 hours chanting "Om Shakti" or "I am Bliss", key survival chants we had learnt from our time in Camp Ashram, to get through it. Alas, they weren't finished with us. A different conductor inspected our ticket and seemed far more understanding only to leave and return with his semi-retarded colleague from earlier. They had found us two seats. How kind of them. Where? In S2. Oh yes. We knew what S2 meant, we had been there before. So we made our way down to our final resting place and surprisingly found 2 Brit girls who had also booked the cancelled train and ended up in the pit of the worlds longest journey. Little Planet Worldesque epilogue. Amidst the endurance that was the train journey to Mumbai, it gave us a chance again fully to see the sellers at work. Scores of red shirted men trapse the carriages shouting repetitively the name of the good they are selling "Coffee, coffee, coffee, or "Chai, chai, chai". At each station they are then joined by a crowd of others who sell ice drinks or local delicacies. The differing smells and constant activity helps somewhat to break the monotony. The train journeys are also distinctly different to the experiences of the bus journeys which seek to get you from A to B as quickly as possible with few or no stops for food ( or anything else for that matter) and driven at hair raising speeds through the Indian landscape. 17 hours later - yes that really is 17 hours - which was originally only a 9 hour journey we finally pull into Mumbai station - although the train station is not the central one we previously booked - and one that is 16k from the main part of Mumbai and most importantly where our hotel was. When we departed the train - we were basically the only people still left on it by this point and were ambushed by a taxi man. We had already agreed to travel the final leg with our new Brit friends in a taxi. In hind sight alarm bells should have been ringing but we were all so exhausted and would have paid anything just to get to our final resting place. We agreed to go with the taxi man who assured us he had a working metre and that it would be about 600 rupees (£6). We piled in and tied some of the bags to the roof, whilst stepping over the several people sleeping on the pavement outside the station, and set off. Now we were on our way, things just didn't seem right. The metre was covered by a sheet of plastic which meant you couldn't see the numbers. Steve pulled it down to make sure the numbers were ticking faster than they should be. Perhaps we had rumbled the taxi man as he went over a rather large bump in the road and hey presto the metre stops working. He pulls over to 'try' and fix it. We agree a sum to get us all to our hotels safely (£8) and press on. Steve is fuming and I know exactly what he is thinking! Nothing is ever simple in India and many people we on our travels there always seems to be an underlying agenda I.e they want our money! We finally got to our hotel and instantly sparked out.