To bus or not to bus? The Goa commute.

Now living in India and splitting my time between Bangalore and Goa, travelling between the two can be a real pain. Originally I would take the bus or car to the airport and then a quick hop on the plane followed by another bus or car. However, what was taking just a couple of hours a few years back is now taking longer and longer and costing more and more.

Considering the possible 2 hours it takes to get to the airport; the delays; the ‘final call’ announcements….usually for my wife who is shopping; the flight itself; baggage reclaim and the transfer to South Goa:  the travel time from door to door is actually more than 6 hours. Given that the flight timings are usually early to mid afternoon, the day is lost! If you are only going for a weekend, what a waste of your valuable R & R.

But what are the options: self drive, train or bus. Mmmmmmmm………..Give me time to think about that one……………

Do I really want to drive for 12 hours and then find that because I have a car I become the designated driver,  tour guide, taxi, ‘drop off at the shops wallah’, hero when some total stranger needs a chemist or handy alternative for getting the landlord’s old and smelly cat to the vet? I don’t think so! Also add to the fact that by the time you have got back to Bangalore you will have so much Goan sand in the foot wells of the car that you could be accused of causing major beach erosion…. Ok, so is ‘self drive’ viable? No, not unless you are an insomniac who has a penchant for cleaning sand out of your car and being the ‘Good Samaritan’.

So that brings us to the ‘train’, lots of plus points, it’s cheaper, it travels overnight and so feasibly you can sleep and there is a toilet! Hoorah for trains! Hip hip hoorah! This probably gets the vote by most women but I really feel uncomfortable sitting in a carriage with the windows painted black, you might as well be in a submarine, so if you are claustrophobic I would not recommend this option, unless you don’t mind sitting on the floor between the carriages next to the toilet…..lovely.

Bus travel is currently my favourite. Now a seasoned ‘bus jockey’, I find it convenient, it travels overnight, I get dropped off just 2 kms from my home in Goa and its cheap! My last ticket, Bangalore to Goa on a non a/sleeper bus was just 500 rupees! Yes 500 rupees!!!!  Ok, I admit there are disadvantages:

·         the bus has broken down twice, the first instance it was 6 hours into the journey and I had to travel the rest of the way by local bus. In the second instance, the bus would not start after a ‘comfort stop’, very interesting…. 15 people jump starting a bus by pushing it uphill! I might add I did not assist, because of my bad back, it’s always useful to have a bad back, but I did not feel guilty at all because the other 20 passengers just sat on the bus!

·         Having ‘Bob Marley live in Concert’ for 6 hours could also be seen as a problem.

·          Smelly feet, other people’s, I may add, could be an issue but there is no need to worry about snoring, the roar of the engines and the frequent squeal of brakes drowns out any usual ‘night noises’.  Less said the better….

·         Toilet stops are an obvious problem, particularly for the ladies, but I am yet to experience anything too unpleasant from my fellow travelers.

So what tips can I give to a ‘bus virgin’? Well:

·         always take a sleeper not a semi sleeper 

·         always be friendly to the driver, just in case of emergency stops!

·         don’t expect 5 star toilets, just don’t have expectations then you will be fine, just be happy it’s a toilet!

·        always take a top bunk……too many shoes in the aisle! Phew!!!

·         don’t be shocked if you think the fellow passenger next to you has passed away, some people sleep very soundly……ref: .Seabird Bangalore to Goa 26^th march

·         think of your journey as an adventure….it will be

·         don’t argue with anyone sitting down, you don’t know how big they are till they stand up and fill the aisle 

·         make sure you book the type of ticket you want, don’t presume that when you walk into the agency on your own they will automatically give you a single bunk! You might end up sharing with someone you think may have died, who has smelly feet and is the size of buffalo, and has trance music blaring away on a very poor quality ghetto blaster! Yes they still have ghetto blasters here… 

·         finally, don’t worry about herpes. I heard someone caught herpes in one of the buses, I am not sure what they were doing but I have never seen a single herp!

Hope this helps, I now travel practically weekly by bus and although I would not recommend it to everyone…..names supplied on request, it really is a great way to get around India, especially if you are on a budget or a tight schedule and use overnight travel as cost effective and good use of time.

….and do I arrive feeling bright and breezy? Well to be honest no, but a quick shower a bite to eat and a quick check of the luggage for any stray herps and you are ready to hit the beach, the bar, the shops or your travel agent for booking that double berth!  

FYI I always use  SEABIRD TOURISTIC

Walking in the Rain

This is probably not in line with blogging etiquette , but I just came across this and thought it has to be worth sharing,  I hope you agree....

'It was a busy morning, about 8:30 , when an elderly
gentleman in his 80s arrived to have stitches removed from his
thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00
am .
I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would
be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw
him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with
another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well
healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed
supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.
While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another
doctor's  appointment this
morning, as he was in such a hurry.
The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home
to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.
He told me that she had been there
for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.
As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.
He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not
recognized him in five years now.
I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning,
even though she doesn't know who you are?'
He smiled
as he patted my hand and said,
'She doesn't know me, 
but I still know who she is.'
I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm,
and thought,
'That is the kind of love
I want in my life.'
True love is neither
physical, nor romantic.
True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and
will not be.
With all the jokes and fun that are in e-mails, sometimes there
is one that comes along that has an important message. This one I
thought
I could share with you.

The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything;
they just make the best
of everything they have. 
I hope you share this with someone you care about.
I just did. 
'Life isn't about how to survive the storm,
but how to dance in the rain.

Activities in Goa

I believed like most people that basically, other than the tour of a  'Spice Farm' and perhaps 'washing an elephant!' there was nothing to do in Goa other than beach, sun , sand and lots of alcohol.
Then one evening a friend told me about  a conversation she had had where people were saying they were bored! That sent me on a personal quest, I decided to become a Don Quixote for 'Activities in Goa', actually its more like 'a man on a donkey' rather than the whole cavalry bit there it goes....
So in my research to date I am amazed to say that there are simply hundreds of things to do other than sit on the beach or in a bar, some perhaps a little sedentry, some a little dangerous but believe me they are there, so as one Company in Bangalore says it 'Get of your ass!' and get to experience a different Goa.
If you know of any activities you can recommend I would be really pleased to know about them and we will spread the word.....
For the record, how about "graphic design workshops', 'Indian Cookery Classes on board a traditional fishing boat', 'weaving' or even attanding a 'shushi school'! 

A lost morning in France, wait for the Goa version

The Lost Morning.Ok, I’m on holiday with the family in the South of France, its early in the season and no one around, Laila wants to do some jobs around the house and Max wants to be with his mates.
FANATASTIC, I have 4 hours to do what I want, and do what I’m good at: sunbathing on the beach!
I have to go by bicycle as Laila may need the car, no problem it’s only 5 km or so, plenty of time to get some peace and solitude and a tan!
As quick as I can, I collect the necessaries and off I pedal, the Beach is calling me.
It’s mid morning and it’s already getting hot, I take the track off the road and pedal through the undergrowth to my spot! My personal bit of beach, its perfect, not a sole around, just me, the sun and the blue Mediterranean.
In a flash my towel is out, the sun cream on and I’m in the crucifix position, perfect to get the even tan.

I can feel the beads of sweat on my forehead and I can hear the waves gently hitting the beach, but hang on there’s something not right,  can hear a sort of dragging/brushing noise, it’s very quiet but I can definitely hear it and its getting closer and closer.
I have to open my eyes, I look to the left and nothing, I look to the right and nothing, there’s no choice I can’t lie there any longer , so my wonderful 5 minutes was coming to an end. Sitting up I could see nothing different to when I lay down, golden sand, blue sea , blue sky and ‘hang on’ in the peripherary of my vision I can see something sort of grayish white in colour , the size of a small dog perhaps. I slowly turn to my left and three feet away from where I was lying stood a seagull!
Now I don’t normally like seagulls but I’m not going to shoo it off or throw anything at it, after all I’m a sucker for animals…….then I see it has a problem……possibly a broken wing! Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
The South of France must have hundreds of km of beach and even this time of the season thousands and thousands of people so why oh why did this bird decide to come to me for help! Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.
OK, so I’m 5 km from the car, if it’s still there, I’m 25 km to the nearest Vet. I have a small rucksack. It looks hungry. It looks too big for the rucksack and what happens if someone suddenly appears on the beach to find an Englishman trying to stuff a live seagull into his beach bag. Not looking too good is it.
So I sit down and try to think.
It has def singled me out and is basically now standing on the towel holding out its damaged wing, you see if it had been a Disney film I would have known what to do and made a splint out of a…you know what I mean….but Walt wasn’t around …….
I checked my bag, all I had was an orange, and it looked hungry, hungry enough to eat an orange? No! Of course a seagull is not going to eat an orange it’s a carnivore!
Time is pressing and its getting hotter and hotter and I can already see my carefree ‘time on my own’ disappearing.
Then I have an idea, the first thing s to make sure it’s fed after that I’ll sort out the vet. I know there’s a shop on the main road, just a few km from the track. I’ll get it some food.
I didn’t even consider the thing would walk off, I just packed up as quickly as I could and jumped on the cycle and off I pedaled as fast as one can in thirty three degrees of heat. Sweating and smelling like some wild thing, I got to the shop, then the question. What should I buy? There isn’t a big demand for seagull food, whether it’s canned or fresh so surprisingly the French shopkeeper with no English whatsoever just thought I was a total looney trying to explain I wanted to buy food for a seagull. Anyway, I decided ‘dog food’ , unfortunately my French is limited and all I could think of was the word for dog ‘chien’ and the word for meat, which  I forget but think it’s ‘carne’ or viande’, it doesn’t matter because then the shopkeeper thought I wanted to buy dog meat i.e. meat from a dog rather than for a dog! He didn’t sell either so in the end I settled upon two large tins of braising steak in jelly or something….and a bottle of water for me.
I am now carrying all this extra stuff on an old heavy bike and thinking it’s too hot, I’m going to die and how will Laila take it that I was carrying two large tins of steak in my bag when I have been a vegetarian for thirty years, a closet carnivore!
I eventually get back to my little patch of, what was heaven’ and is now becoming my personal little patch of hell. Then I realize that the bloody bird has probably walked off, trying to find a better ‘good Samaritan’ than
the stupid Englishman that fed me orange!    
But needn’t have worried, I didn’t even have time to put my towel down and it re appeared. I was now feeling rather smug, Laila would be so proud of me and then I realized I didn’t have a tin opener.  Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.

The seagull just looked at me then the can of braising steak, I could tell it was famished, it would probably eat both tins and then want more. This could be an expensive rescue…..
After what seemed like hours and yet still wasn’t mid day, I managed to smash open the can, the jelly flew everywhere, and I was covered in this horrendous goo, a vegetarian with a marrow bone face pack…awful. With a little more prizing, I managed to get the steak out of the tin , collected it all on a piece of paper and happily presented it to the seagull , who had patiently been waiting and wondering what exactly the mad Englishman was doing.
I placed the food in front of the bird, it stared at the steak and stared at me, it hobbled forward dragging its injured wing. Thank God it was going to be ok, at least it was feeding…… but no. It looked as if it almost sniffed the meat, looked at me, looked at the meat, looked back at me with I swear a look of total disgust in its eye and turned round, dragging its wing. It looked back once more, me standing there like the maitre de of some Michelin restaurant which had just been de starred. And then it happened….it flew off!

My morning had been a complete waste, a few people had started to appear on the beach and settle themselves down for a relaxing afternoon.

I was just sitting there with a pile of steak and jelly next to me, not surprisingly no one came near. I decided to throw the food into the sea, disaster me standing in the sea surrounded by brown floating jelly and gravy and lumps of steak, really not a pleasant site and passing tourists were not impressed.

I quickly left the water and retreated to the security of my towel. I just want to go home now, embarrassed at being so foolish and not having to explain why I had a large tin of braising steak in my bag, I decided I could not take it home, I knew what the answer was, and I would bury it. All the evidence of my three hour disaster would be gone, so dug a hole and dropped it in. God knows what the people on the beach thought but by that time I didn’t care. The mercury n the thermometer was climbing fast and I was wilting faster so I packed up and went home again.

I had probably lost about 4 kilos in weight by the time I got back home. ‘You’re red, too much sun eh?’ “Not exactly’ was my reply and I decided to come clean, just in case I had been seen buying steak or standing in gravy.

Highly amusing, totally ridiculous where running through Laila’s mind and then she asked about the second can of steak. “I buried it!’ I replied ‘No let’s just forget about the whole thing!’

Nice idea and then she pointed out that I had buried a can of meat on a beach in the direct sun, where the temperatures would reach the low forties, had I thought about the possibility that it might explode. Bugger bugger bugger …and what if there was an innocent couple sun bathing, they could be physically harmed or mentally scarred and not be able to eat ‘viande sur la plage’ again!     

There was no choice, I had to go back…..

The beach was rather full now, a few people recognized the mad chap from the morning and they weren’t a bit surprised when I stated to dig holes, trying to find something in the sand , you hoped you would never see again can be hard.. The new comers on the beach  were even more surprised when I found it.

I tried to be as nonchalant as possible, as if this was very normal behavior but I was happy to go and make muy escape but guess what? I spotted the seagull again! Sidling up to an unsuspecting sun bather, I  just wonder even now, what it was after,  obviously a gourmet,
   the little Bugger Bugger Bugger

My Goa

Goa is going through many changes, some for the better some for the worse but Goa still has a magic of its own. Say 'Goa ' to anyone and you will get a smile!
Commercialism is creeping in everywhere but you can still find Goan charm and hospitality, I regularly go to Mangal Farm, its about 35 km from Palolem and 25 years from Baga! The lunch menu is basically 'veg' or 'non veg' it will cost you 50 rupees , I guarantee it will be a meal to remember and only for  nice reasons! On my first viit I had Forest Mushrooms picked fresh that morning, wow!!!