Monthly Archives: March 2007

Scootin’ Around

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Big Day Out in Goa

Big Day Out in Goa

Just to make sure we didn’t get totally bored of reading and relaxing on the beach all week, we decided to take a little day trip and see some sites beyond Palolem. We rented a scooter, bought a few liters of petrol and headed north. There aren’t really that many sites nearby, but we made a day of it.

We scooted up and down the hills and along the fairly quiet rural roads passing small villages, rice paddies and school children along the way. Our first stop was Cabo de Rama, a huge old Portuguese fort. Despite the government signs warning of severe penalties for anyone caught desecrating this historic landmark, the place was pretty run down. We’re not sure what “protected site” really means in India, but in this case it could only have meant stone walls speckled with graffiti and overgrown with weeds where locals put their cows to pasture and monkeys fly between the treetops. Still the fort was an impressive site (as were the monkeys!). It’s massive walls wound along the coast offering great views of the Arabian Sea.

We later visited Agonda Beach – a smaller, quieter beach not far from Palolem. We knew when we came to India that our quidebook was dated (circa 2001), but our visits to Palolem and Agonda were absolute confirmations of this. It’s true that Agonda is quieter than Palolem, but there are still many services and facilities – many, many more than indicated five years ago. You get the sense that both beaches are headed towards some sort of environmental disaster in about ten years if they keep pace. Let’s just say the view of the ocean is great, but the trash swimming along side you – not so much!

To kill time before the train station window opened up for us to purchase a ticket, we thought we’d pay a visit to the Grand Resort Goa, an Intercontinental Hotel nearby. I had heard that you could pay to use their very nice pool and spa. We found the hotel – a luxury fortress with closed gates. Despite our sweaty attire and mode of transportation, the guards at the gate let us pass. We parked the scooter and wandered about the resort. It was quite amazing – private beach, golf course, archery range, skeet shooting range, heliport …and pool. The pool, complete with waterfall and swim up bar, beckoned. We were hot. It was clean. We kind of look like we belong, right? I mean we don’t have dreads or anything. We found a little corner to set our things down and took a dip. Refreshing, clean water. Things were going pretty well until the nice pool guy checked us out and realized we didn’t check out. Being the honest folks that we are (and since they had a crash proof pool system), we fessed up and said we’d leave rather than pay some ridiculous amount of rupees to stay. We already got to swim anyway right? I did offer him baksheesh – a bribe common anticipated anywhere else in this country, but not with the honest staff of the Intercontinental. I am sure we weren’t the first to offer. We calmly made for the exit, and relished our mini dip into luxury as we returned to Palolem.

Papers Please

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Passport Please

Passport Please

One of the more frustrating things here in India has been the India love affair with red tape. Fair warning to all those who come to visit: memorize your passport number. You will need to produce it at many (unexpected)turns. Like buying a train ticket, or booking a room in a hotel, or – most frustrating – getting online.

Producing your passport number at the train station is really just the tip of the iceberg. We also had to provide our home addresses in the US, our addresses in India and our ages …to get on the train!

Booking a room at a hotel can also be challenging: at one establishment both LeeAnne and I had to produce our passports, our Indian tourist visa numbers, the dates of issue and expiration for both and our home address and telephone number. I was half worried I’d need to call home and get my Mom to give me the date of my first day in kindergarten! All this to stay in a room for two nights. India, I implore you…

Here’s the rub. I would expect an eye for detail if we were traveling in say Germany or Austria, but this is India! It’s kind of crazy here. On the way to an internet cafe in Mumbai – where I had to give the guy at the front desk my Passport, Visa number and home address in the US just to use the internet – we saw:

  • A dog fight in the middle of a busy street
  • Cows holding up rush hour traffic
  • A woman in her Sari holding a new-born baby in one hand and a baboon on a leash in the other. That was crazy, but here’s the thing – she wasn’t trying to get anyones attention, she was just chillin. That’s her life.

So there’s all this insanity going on outside, but this guy needs my passport number to get online? Please explain!

Go, Go Goa

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A Room With A View

A Room With A View

Following our escape from Mumbai, we decided to head south, where according to various parties it’s “less crazy.” We chose to come directly to Palolem Beach in southern Goa for a little chill time.

Goa is a small state on the west coast of India. Until only a few decades ago (60s maybe) it was a Portuguese colony. As a result, there are many old churches and probably the only sizable population of Catholics in the country. Goa is best known however for its beaches. Beaches filled with hippies and all night ravers. Just what Dave and I long for, right? Not exactly. But we owed it to the inspiration of this whole trip to pay a visit. (remember we blame Matt Damon.) Fortunately, we’ve sought out a more “isolated” Goan beach during the shoulder season. As a result, we’ve encountered fewer hippies, better deals and more peace and quiet.

For everything that Mumbai was for us, Goa seems to be the opposite. Example: In Mumbai, after three days of walking around the city, we never saw one roll of toilet paper – much to our dismay. The first shop we popped into in Palolem had a pyramid of toilet paper along with every single thing we could have wanted – some we didn’t even realize we wanted. A clear sign of a Western presence. The little shop overflowed with toilet paper, soap, half bottles of shampoo, sunscreen, and Dove face wipes (oh how I wanted one of those on the dirty, sticky train ride south!) among other things.
The other obvious signs of tourist ville were the inflated prices of food and lodging and the vast array of food available. All restaurants have a variation of the same offering: Chinese, Mexican, Thai, Pizza, Continental (we’ve come to recognize this as Italian), Seafood and of course Indian. Most are fairly good. Unfortunately, they are also overpriced for India.

Since we arrived rather late on this first evening, we took what we could get. An overpriced, overly nice room (a whopping $9) on the main street. The up sides of this were (1) Dave was able to watch live EPL soccer games from the comfort of our bed, and (2) it allowed us to walk the beach in search of a good beach hut deal for the remainder of the week. We eventually bargained for a little shack on a quiet cove just off of the main beach. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s a good place to read, relax and stare off into the horizon for a week. A recovering desk jockey’s dream!