chilldom

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I’ve managed to get some follower travelers in my wake, in particular a real Kiwi character named Phil, who quite literally said ‘tell you what I’ll go where you’re going’ just before buying the tickets in the booking hall. Talk about blind leading the blind. I’ve been recommended Vagator beach by one of Ankur’s friends, and I have no idea what its like and Phil has a Lonely Planet in his hand. Here’s to an interesting accompaniment! I spent the night before departure in the tranquility that is the Victoria station retirement room, one of the cheapest places in Bombay, and situated right above the hustle and bustle of a major mainline terminus. This made it incredibly easy to get to the platform of the 0111 to Madgaon, and despite having the smallest bag I’ve ever managed (which I have to say is fantastic- forget backpacking, the magic Indian style sports bag rules) I still couldn’t escape having it carried by an especially eager porter, running off with it past my carriage. I chased after him but we were near the end of the train before I had to grab him and say my carriage is back there. That wasn’t enough, he had to be convinced by going right to the end of the train to be sure he hadn’t walked past it. The guy had the nerve to ask for a tip when he’d done the exact opposite in facilitating me. Anyway, I found my top berth (the only one to get), settled into a snug little comfort zone and met my fellow neighbors, some Spanish and a Korean. It didn’t take long with the familiar clack of the rails to drift off to sleep.

I woke with the orange glow of the morning sun beaming across the dusty lower berths, creating a sort of carrot soup mist, that along with the unusual sounding Chai man offering his hot drink. I jumped down to admire the view from the small windows, only to bump into Kiwi Phil pacing frantically up and down the corridor. After meeting his berth companions, a young couple -Alex and Yohana from the UK and Denmark, I got another couple of hours powernap before being woken by Phil just before the stop. Anyhow, when we disembarked, I had to chuckle at the amount of luggage Phil had, 5 big bags, including a suit carrier with 3 different suits. This guy was on a round the world ticket too. Anyway the four of us got a shared taxi to Vagator and checked into the first place we found on the rationale that we could spend the day looking for a superior place. In the end it was there that we stayed for eight days as it suited us just fine.

My time at Vagator was spent with these other poeple, though Phil left after 4 days to achieve his speedy trip through India before heading to London. He had spent a little longer than anticipated in Bangkok in the red light district, and felt the Indian way was frustrating him. Its funny but this almost stereotypical 38 year old Kiwi hick (as he had referred to himself) was initially a daunting companion to the three of us but once he was gone he was greatly missed- he was a man of interesting opinions and said exactly what he felt. Actually one thing I wasnt going to miss was being the passenger when he rode the moped!
The days went by in a blur, not actually much of specific interest to write about, just the easy life of living in near paradise, swimming in the warm sea twice a day and catching the irregular waves by body surfing, exploring the area on our little hired mopeds, eating fine food, reading and playing cards. Ever since first arriving it was a daily intention to climb the big red stone fort at the head of the peninnsula, something we never accomplished. Oh yes and there were a couple of trance 'parties' but I certainly didnt really have my heart in them.

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