Colva, Goa, India

Traveling east to Goa on threw the Karanataka mountains

The power is off, again. It’s dark, no its pitch black. Local dogs bark loudly at each other and cars beep their horns outside. We can hear young boys playing local tunes on their phones in the street. With an hour of battery left in the computer it’s a perfect time to relax, have a beer and contemplate our journey so far.

Many have described India as a land of possibilities. We have come to find that anything is possible in India. You want it, it will be found. It’s not on the menu? No problem the chef will make. Price to high? … well that’s actually negotiable.

A special present for Kara from India's
wine region Nashik

A true Indian has a hard time, and will avoid at all cost, using the word no. Rather than a verbal answer you will get a fast head side waggle, translating as ‘ok’. Do we need to get on the train to upgrade? ‘Ok’. Is it a pay toilet? ‘Ok’. Which way is the beach? ‘Ok’. What time is check out? ‘Ok’. Although it sounds like a laugh.. it can be mucho frustrating!

The head waggle is also used as a form of greeting a stranger and means ‘hello, ok, I’m friendly’. As foreigners emulating the waggle it usually causes much laughter and just as much unproductivity!!

After we left Hampi and spent a night in Hospet before boarding an early morning train on Friday into Goa. The train was packed and we had some difficulty getting tickets. At the time we didn’t realize we were heading straight into the middle of an ‘Id Ul Fitr’ festival. 

Sunbathing on Colva beach

This is an international event celebrating the end of Ramadan. Rather than dancing and singing, friends get together and drink- a lot. 
Our main concern was to make it to the beach, have a cold shower and relax… when we arrived to a small tourist spot called Colva it was overflowing with young Muslim boys celebrating the festival! We walked hotel to guesthouse, to homestay and resort seeking a room. 
Eventually locating a small guesthouse by the beach with reasonable priced rooms; we were exhausted.

What happened though was quite amusing. Over the last few days it seems we have been the local tourist attraction! 

Bags of fish at the ready

Kara has been very popular with the male muslim population and have posed arm in arm for at least fifty photographs! I'm sure if we had charged for photographs we could have at least bought several 100 samoas! John has been notorious named ‘moustache man’ and hundreds have asked whether he is a policeman and what’s his rank. We just go with it…. When we sat on the dirty beach to watch the sunset people would come and sit with us and ask about the cricket, further passer-byers would join in asking us many questions in broken English.

Women and children preparing the fresh fish

The beach itself is huge, but not much to call home about. Dogs and cattle sleep on the warm sand. Young girls wander across the beach selling cheap tacky Chinese bracelets and jewelry. Adolescent men stand at each walkway across the beach entrances selling small ice creams. Taxi touts line up in the car park convincing you, that you need a ride and although the beach is lined with lifeguards no Indian ventures into the sea more than knee depth. Above all, its filthy. Rubbish is everywhere and to enter the water you wade through several feet of bubbling scum.

Do you fancy some Indian food?

However, compared to the other areas of India we have visited its relaxing. You can spend the morning watching the fisherman come ashore and sort the small fish with the king prawns before delivering it to the women and children to ‘de-gill’ and 'de-shell' or you can take a book and sit at one of the many beachside restaurants and eat some local Goan cuisine all afternoon.

Us? We prefer to drink our Indian red wine and watch the world go by.

Tot siens
John and Kara