This
latest trip was absolutely perfect in every way.
We
set off on Thursday the 16th. Took a train to Kolkata after ages –
because road trips are taking too long lately – the Coalfield Express, which
brought back a flood of old memories, then a cab to the airport. A long wait,
then a two and half hour flight (try not to fly Spice Jet whenever you can
avoid it; they invariably give you creepy moments, besides the cramped Boeing
737s, though Pupu had got us the front row, which was very considerably better)
to the spanking new MoPa airport in north Goa. We arrived at the resort a
little before 8 p.m. This – the Grand Leoney, close to the Marriot but
much closer to the beach – was, on the whole, the very best place I have stayed
at in all these years, and surprisingly enough, far from the most expensive, so
that was a delight, since we stayed for three nights and four days.
Over
the weekend, I discovered that we had also made the best possible choice of
beach, the Vagator, with Anjuna beach close by: wide expanse, lovely view with
the Chapora fort to the right upon a cliff overlooking the bay, not too
crowded, restaurant right on the sand, various kinds of water sports if you are
interested including scooter- and motorboat rides. We slept late and woke up
sinfully late every day; breakfast was given the miss in favour of one kind of
brunch or the other. On Friday we bathed in the sea, then hired a Fascino
scooty and zipped around, visiting the fort, the Baga and Calangute beaches,
and a little bookshop called Champaca. At Baga, after huffing and puffing up
and down from the fort, where cool coconut water soothed our parched throats
(the view reminded me of Simhachalam at Vizag) we spent a whole hour dozing on
shaded and padded beachside deck chairs. At Calangute, we bought a bottle of
port, but then ran away from the crowd. From the bookshop, I bought a new work
on Tagore’s ecological thinking by a Vishwabharati scholar.
On
Saturday we had a lovely late morning swim in the hotel pool, then made a trip
to south Goa in a rented car (the view
of the Mandovi river from the swanky new bridge brings to mind the backwaters
of Kerala), taking in the Basilica of Bom Jesus (not much impressed by
Portuguese baroque architecture, and things like the mummified remains of St.
Francis Xavier leave me cold), the Se Cathedral, and the adjoining museum of
ancient and medieval art maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India,
followed by a trip to Fort Aguada (the Taj resort is next door, and located in
a neighbourhood which has unfortunately become terribly crowded – I would never
dream of burning money staying in a locale like that!) and rounded up by a
sight of Candolim beach, where we watched a glorious sunset. By the way, these
little forts are a joke to people who have travelled around Rajasthan and
Delhi: I wonder why the Mughals didn’t blast them off the earth when they
could. The two late evenings we drank beer and chatted on the beach as only
Pupu and I can do.
Sunday
was spent lazing about, the highlights being a long spell in the sea at midday,
followed by a very refreshing full-body massage and a very late lunch of prawn
and rice, local style, along with the inevitable beer. A short snooze in the
early evening, then packing up. We took a cab to Dabolim airport in south Goa
(now called Goa International). Arriving at 10:30 p.m., we were horrified to
see the crowd at the lounge, but mercifully it thinned out as flight after
flight left. Ours – IndiGo – was at 2 a.m. There was a layover and change of
flight at Jaipur, where I grumbled over a second-round security check and
worried about losing our luggage in transit. However, we arrived without mishap
at Delhi a little after 6:30 a.m. on Monday the 20th, and were home within an
hour.
My
impressions of Goa: you can see women in almost every state of undress if you
are interested, though it’s rarely a pretty sight. Everyone seems to be
drinking all the time (as a Bengali waiter remarked with irritation, liquor is
the only thing that comes cheap). Food at the cafes is good but very expensive
(many things on the menu, like shark steak, are generally unavailable), and
they are mildly surprised if you only want a meal without drinks. So is
transport, except for the Scootys. The eateries have all kinds of interesting
names, like Nibbles and Jaws and Gin Mill and The Last Hangover. Most of the
beaches are rather too crowded, and too many people keep soliciting custom all
the time, offering everything from local handmade trinkets to parasailing. The
common language is Konkani, but most people have at least passable English and
a little Hindi. The weather was balmy, with the Celsius rising up to 33 and
falling to 22, but the sun is hot and dazzling if you forget your sunglasses. And
it can get clammy when the breeze drops. Most of the cafes play loud music
almost non-stop. The foreign tourists are back post-pandemic in full force.
Beef is openly available, despite Goa being ruled by the BJP now: I guess they
know very well which side of the bread is buttered, and are scared of chasing
away their biggest, if not only, source of revenue. The locals like to do
everything in a slow, easygoing fashion, so don’t expect to be served pronto even
if you are hungry. The landscape is an odd mix of high-urban and still-rural.
People with Portuguese surnames are far less common than might have been
expected, though one of the reception clerks was called Albuquerque. The roads
are good, and new high rise condos are coming up all over the place. People
come travelling by car from as far away as Kerala and UP. We saw a lifeguard at
only one beach, and though I had expected changing rooms (or rather tin huts),
there were none, exactly as in Bengal. Likewise, pillion riders don’t have to
wear helmets mandatorily. Very few policemen are in evidence, not even traffic
cops, so it must be a peaceful sort of place. Everyone buys hats and the
trademark Goan shirts with palm tree motifs on them. For those who have deep
pockets and extravagant tastes, there are ten-minute helicopter rides which
cost eight thousand rupees per head, but no balloons, which I would have liked.
Knowing that the sea is murky, I decided against snorkelling and scuba diving.
So
now you can make up your own mind. One can have a jolly good short vacation while
working online from time to time. No wonder it’s so popular with today’s young,
as well as all kinds of corporates arranging workshops and conventions. Didn’t
find out how much fun it would be if you
are travelling on a shoestring budget, though!
For photos
click here.
