Arrival in Goa

13/06/2013

I woke up to a stinking pot of egg and onion on my lap.  The guy had delivered our breakfast and Will had put mine on me as I slept.  People will speak of waking up to the scent of freshly baked bread of newly cut grass as things of pleasure, egg and onion is probably bordering on the opposite end of the scale for items intended to be pleasant in nature (rotting carcass and sewage clearly never intended to be pleasant would be the extreme end).  Will said afterwards that he had been half asleep and seen a hand appear through the gap in the curtain, reach over him and place his breakfast pot on his stomach before retreating back the way it came.  Then a few minutes later the same hand had apparently changed it’s mind and silently slipped back through the curtain and retrieved his pot!  The image of Will laying there just watching this unidentified hand silently slip through the curtain and place this pot on him just to slip back through moments later and retrieve it (and then straight after to get the spoon it had left behind) really makes me chuckle.

I tried to eat my omelette but I just couldn’t stomach that much egg and onion that early in the morning.  The locals seem to have ‘cutlet’ for breakfast which is like some kind of potato bhaji thing.  They don’t really seem to have any variation or allowance for the first meal of the day, it tends to be of the same style as the rest of the meals with no thought to a tender stomach just awoken from 8hrs of sleep. 

Noone says ‘thank you’ I’ve noticed.  You’ll hold a door for someone or pick up something they’ve dropped and they just carry on without a word!  I know us Brits are known as being overly polite but I don’t think saying thank you is asking to go above and beyond what is necessary or expected.  Myself and Will are both quite polite when it comes to our P’s and Q’s but when everything you say is met with a silent stare it starts to get annoying.  Not annoying to stop saying thanks, that’s just ingrained on us after so many years, but annoying enough to want to slam in door in the face of the person you just held it for.  I started loudly saying ‘thank you’ on behalf of people instead, I’m sure they had no idea what I was saying.

(I did witness 2 people say thank you before we left India, both were fluent in English so I’m guessing their knowledge of the language allowed this pleasantry.  Still, whenever I go to another country I will always learn how to say ‘thank you’ even if that’s the only word(s) of their language I learn).    

The scenery is very green and lush as we approach Goa; lots of palm trees, grass, bushes and wetlands, it’s far more tropical than the north which was mainly wasteland and scorched grass.  When we got to the station we looked for a taxi and a little man latched onto us.  When I say little he was literally an Indian Ronnie Corbett with a moustache and probably a stone lighter.  He wanted us to pay 1200Rs for the trip, we wanted to pay 800Rs.  In the end we won and he led us to his car, which wasn’t a car at all, it was a tuk tuk.  Had we known it was a tuk tuk we’d have laughed at his 1200Rs, that’s just ridiculous for a 3 wheeled vehicle with no doors, no boot and about 100cc.  It was also a 1hr 20 minute drive too and you can imagine the lack of comfort in a tuk tuk.  I didn’t think a tuk tuk driver would even entertain a journey that long.
We managed to squeeze all the luggage in and set off just in time for the rain to start.  Luckily our little buddy had installed curtains between him and us so we got shielded from most of the rain that came in through the open sides until a car going the other way went through a huge puddle sending a tidal wave into the tuk tuk and straight through our little curtain!  There was about an inch of water around our feet and my suitcase was dripping.  Our driver felt this was warning enough so he pulled over to take evasive action against the horrendous weather, he put on his little green plastic hat.  Myself and Will both breathed a sigh of relief that he’d managed to get his little green hat on at an appropriate time and we carried on our merry way. 

The tuk tuk struggled on up hills at about 7mph and we passed rice fields with women in ponchos bent over gathering the rice in the pouring rain.

The rain was coming down hard and another car went through a flooded part of the road and another tidal wave hit us, this time absolutely soaking the poor driver.  He didn’t even flinch as it hit him, just sat there.  His clothes drenched, water was running off his hair and he just shook his head slightly like a dozing dog semi aware of a fly landing on his head which dropped off a few drips and that was his only reaction.  Me and Will were creased up in the back and couldn’t stop laughing for a solid 5 minutes.  Every time we caught a glimpse of a bead of water left clinging to his short, black hair it would set us off again.

I’m sorry to say that wave took his little green hat off his head and it wasn’t replaced for the rest of the journey.

We arrived at the hotel and found that the online description wasn’t exactly accurate.  It was not on the beach, it did not have wifi in the rooms (despite us picking the more expensive option so we did have wifi in our rom) and food was not available all day.  On top of that only 1 of the 3 lights in the room turned on, the TV wouldn’t work, the hand towel was dirty and/or stained and the toilet roll was soaking wet.  The guy said he’d change the towel and toilet roll but when we went downstairs he was just sat on his ass with the other two staff members behind the desk doing sweet FA. He’d also taken Will’s passport for the log book and said he’d bring it back this evening for no other reason than he’s a lazy sod and couldn’t be bothered to walk it back upstairs once he was finished with it.

They have to take so many details from you when you check in anywhere.  All your passport details; passport number, valid/expiry date, country of origin, DOB then visa number and dates of expiry, where you came from and where you’re going next and your job at home.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d asked for Will’s penis size and my menstrual cycle (if only to prevent me from entering their temples unauthorised).  I’d love to know if they ever do anything with that information but I’d bet it just sits there like a identity fraudsters Christmas present.

We popped to the bar next door for some food as we’d note eaten all day and our hotel wasn’t serving until 7pm and we’d decided we weren’t going to give the lazy sods a penny more than we had to.  I almost squealed when I saw a beef item on the menu.  I don’t eat excessive amounts of beef normally but when you know you can’t get it it becomes forbidden fruit.  As a result of the naughty air surrounding the ‘spaghetti bolognaise (beef)’ listing I couldn’t resist ordering it.  Beef! Beautiful beef!!  I did feel a bit bad making them cook beef but they put it on their menu. 

Also on their menu was bottles of Bud for 80p and rum/vodka/gin for 35p a shot! 60p a double!

Whist I was enjoying my beef a cow walked past the open front bar, stuck his head in and moo’d at me.  He knew.  He knew what I was doing and he judged me.

I had a text through saying I had less than £1 credit.  I’d put £26 on before I left and other than the texts to Mum to book our hotel and 3 others I’d not sent any except my free travel journal updates.  I emailed them to find out what the deal was and it turns out their ‘free travel journal updates’ was incredibly misleading as they’re not free at all!  You have to pay for each text message (50p) then they update it for free.  Update what?! The text message posts on my account and Facebook, that involves no work! How can you say that’s free? It’s also free to call anyone back home, until the call connects.  It’s also free to write a text!  Just not to send it.  Stupidly misleading and had I known that I’d have literally posted one text in each place to mark where we were and so people knew we were alive rather than chatting away like a knitting club at the W.I. spunking £25 up the wall for fun.