Well, my three weeks in Goa has finally come to an end and I will be soon heading off to Australia, via New Delhi, Bangkok and Bali.
I have had a wonderfully relaxing time here. Indeed, I could follow the lead of many and spend the harsh British winters here. There is a huge collection of expats here from all over the world. It's a very relaxing environment and so cheap, for pretty much everything.
The food was brilliant, as I write The blog I can still taste the tandoori chicken that was served at Viva Goa. This roadside cafe did a very tasty chicken. The first time I ordered it the half a chicken was a proper "half a chicken". The second time I had it they gave me two legs. Now, call me pedantic but if my half a chicken had two legs, the other half was going to be pretty sad. This 'anomaly' continued throughout my stay, indeed, it so intrigued me that on the last day I ordered a whole chicken, just to see what happened. I guessed there could be one of two outcomes. 1:- the chicken would be presented and we know and love them. Or 2:- I would get four legs. I could barely contain myself as I waited for the meal to arrive, I was rather unsurprised when a large plate arrived with four legs. There you go. I am In the twilight zone where whole chickens have four legs. Needless to say it was delicious, washed down with the Cashew Fenny, Kingfisher beer and accompanied by the roti and raita.
It was amusing to watch the behaviours of the local dogs. If there is one criticism of Goa, it's the dogs. They hang around in packs on the beach. All very territorial and protective of their piece of the beach. They keep out of the sun by digging a small hole under sunbeds to get some cool sand and then lay down for the day. In the evening they tend to hand around the local restaurants. There were about three or four that had made Viva Goa their home and we quite partial to the chicken bones from the tandoori chicken. One of the dogs was the clear leader and any bones thrown were his. Even if you threw a bone to one of the other dogs they were stolen. There was one particular sorry looking dog, one of his ears had been chewed off. He was really cute but was clearly in awe of the 'leader'.
The usual evening finished a 'Bob's , around the big table meeting new people and toking on the numerous joints that were passed around. A couple of Fenny and cokes later I used to stagger back to the guest house, climb into my mosquito 'cage' and go to sleep.
I did indeed get into a rather lazy routine while I was there. Up early, breakfast of Masala omelette and milky coffee followed by a day under my shade on the sunbed, popping into the rather rough sea for a piss every now and then. I read loads of 'real' rather than 'e' books. Dona Forina had a veritable library and I must have read most of the English books before I left Goa. After a day on the beach I headed back, had a shower, a trip to the supermarket for my Old monk/Fenny and a packet of fags and used to have a small sit on the balcony enjoying the sunset and having a small aperitif. If I wintered there I guess that would be my life. Very appealing I think!
I met lots of interesting people while I was there. Ernst the German hippy, his mate Martin, the Aussie backgammon master, the Dutch photo journalist, the ex CIA agent, the couple from Coln in Lancashire. it was a fascinating time.
There were also some interesting signs. "please don't wash your legs"????
My landlady, Jessica was a gem, always smily and friendly. I will miss the place.
See ya soon Goa. Next time I will get somewhere with a kitchen though. The prices are so cheap. I was paying £8 but you could probably get something with a fridge and cooking facilities for less.
See ya soon Goa........
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