India: Part the Fourth (GOA)

Now I think I left off with my night train arriving in Goa around 1pm. I had some chai in the morning and read a book and talked a little more with Narayan sitting opposite me. When we reached Tivim, there weren't too many people left in our compartment. We got off and I went to the pre-paid taxi stand so I wouldn't get overcharged for a trip to my hotel.

My taxi driver was a nice guy who talked non-stop about growing up and living in Goa. As we drove past small resort towns, I began to relax and feel quite comfortable. The sun was coming out, there were palm trees and Portuguese-style Catholic churches lining the roads. I was dropped off right in front of Mira Resort in Calangute (which, during the tourist season, is party central) not five minute's walk from the beach. The woman behind the desk (the wife and co-owner of the resort, I assumed) received me with few words. I came in and started to explain and was quickly interrupted with a "Yes, yes. You are Matt" Then she gestured to a guy - probably her son - and handed him a key saying, "Take him to Room 9c." (hotel room numbers have been changed to protect the innocent). I was shown to a large room with double doors on the third floor of the building behind the main part of the hotel. The man unlocked the padlock that served as the lock for my room and showed me the large un-airconditioned room. It had cool tile floors, a large bathroom with shower and french doors opening onto a porch that overlooked the swimming pool. It was beautiful and I was enjoying it until I realized I'd forgotten to ask the price of the room and to bargain for it before accepting it.

I walked down to the desk and asked the same woman - who, in spite of (or maybe because of) her attitude had this powerfullly striking look about her - she had wide eyes, flaring nostrils, and long wavy black hair that spread over her shoulders. I began to ask her if she could arrange my train ticket back to Mumbai the following evening. Before I got the sentence completed, she said, "Yes, yes. What you need to do is talk to a travel agent." Then she sat with a pained expression on her face that seemed to question what I was still doing there. I asked, "Can you recomm-"
"Yes, yes. Go across the street to (I can't remember the name)Travel Agency. They do train tickets." This I did.

I sat down and a thin, girl in a yellow sari who had perfected the skill of being as dismissive as possible while staying within boundaries of customer service, informed me that it was impossible to book with under two days notice. I just looked at her and said, "Yes. And what can you do about that?" She then sighed and made a phone call to the train station. "If you pay Rs.600 now, and stop by at 5:30 pm, we will have an answer for you - they can maybe get you a second-class reserved sleeper." I shelled out the money and said I`d be back. I went to a super little restaurant for some chow - and then looked at my cellphone clock and headed back to the office. As my cellphone was on Japan time - three and a half hours later - I looked rather foolish coming back, so I went upstairs to the Internet cafe and checked my e-mail. As I still had a couple more hours before finding out about my ticket, I walked down to the beach. On the way to the beach and at the beach I was offered:

-pot (five times)
-young girls to give me pleasure (once)
-two massages, one by a young man and one by an old woman
-bracelets and necklaces(too many times to count)
-taxis (again too many times to count)

The beach was amazing and I realized that I hadn't been to the ocean in years. Now, here I was on the Arabian Sea watching people play in the waves as they hit the shore - you couldn't go out two far as the undertow was too powerful. I took off my Tevas and walked along the beach, took a picture of a young couple that asked me to, walked to the water, and got my shorts drenched by a huge wave - luckily I had my camera well out of the reach of the waves. I could have stayed their for hours, but the clouds came and it kept raining off and on. I decided that rather than just going around sightseeing the next day and seeing a lot of beautiful churches, I would - if the weather was nice - spend a good deal of the day at the beach.

I got confirmation of my train reservation and then headed back to my apartment - I was still tired as I hadn't slept too well on the train (I wore my headphones half the night cuz I was worried the little bugs would crawl in my ears - as it was I got bitten by what I think must have been bed bugs). I'm not sure how long I slept exactly, but I woke up and it was dark and I was crabby and feeling a bit alone in this off-season resort town. I decided to find a restaurant, but I wasn't all that hungry. I walked down the road to a neighboring beach - Baga beach - thinking it wouldn't be far at all. It was about a 45 minute walk in the dark. When I got there, I found the restaurant I'd heard was good in this location was closed for the season. This was probably the lowest point of my trip - a point where a traveling companion would have been great to have had. I walked back to Calangute and sat down at an open-air bar where an Indian guy was hosting karaoke - but he was the only one singing - he sang a pretty mean "Summer of '69" but sitting sipping my long-island (without ice) in a mostly empty bar listening to the karaoke guy sing to his wife and daughter who were sitting there was somehow a little pathetic. I finished my drink and went back to the hotel to sleep.

The next day was much better. I woke early and went down to the beach to sit and watch the waves. It was sunny and warm and peaceful. And the beach was really clean and had no litter on it - it was great. I ate breakfast, picked up my train ticket, and did some bargaining in the little markets for some trinkets and stuff. Then I checked out of my hotel and stored my luggage under the stairs ("Yes, yes. Just put them there.") and grabbed a taxi and went to the Ayurvedic treatment clinic for a massage - Goa and Kerala are famous for their therapeutic massages (where Aveda get a lot of their ideas and philosophies from). This was very relaxing, but I was told I couldn't shower until an hour after the massage - this would be difficult as I was already checked out of my hotel, so I returned to the beach and decided to wash off there in the waves - this was a good idea in theory, but now the sun had come out and of course without soap and a wash rag, I couldn't properly wash off the excess oil from the massage. So I played in the waves and sat on the beach and struck up conversations with vendors trying to sell me carved elephants and bracelets (I told one person that I was feeling kind of alone that day and his talking to me was just making it worse). As I walked and sat, I got pretty fried (especially with the oil not completely off my arms and neck). I finally realized this and decided to check the time.

I had just enough time to grab a meal - I had chicken and a wonderful dessert called bebinka (not sure if that spelling it right) - then I grabbed my backpack and fanny pack from the hotel and took a taxi back to Tivim as I had to catch the 5pm train back to Mumbai. I sat at the station feeling greasy and salty and burned, but thoroughly relaxed. I sipped some chai and waited for the train to come.

A couple days later in Mumbai, I`d read some people (7 or 8) had been caught in the undertow at one of the beaches in Goa and had drowned.