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Published: January 20th 2006
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As usual, where I am being of no consequence, I am up at 5:00am and so it is just as well that I get into my day, riding the night train from Margoa, Goa to Cochin, Kerela, 2nd class, double, double decker. We had a turn of good fortune last evening, when the young men who were to be our compartment partners, convinced the conductor to relocate them and leave us alone to our own devices. This accommodation, then, after a fashion, became the highly desired coupe treatment, quarters for two, which does not come easy or often; and then. only on 1st class. We must have a look about us.
Any way, yesterday was our first time hiring a taxi for the day, which was left to me while Penelope checked us out of the Pasouda Inn. Hiring a Goa taxi, I was warned by the young lady at our Cyber Cafe, can be a pretty nuanced exercise. So, I took a moment to remind myself of fixed versus variable price contracts; and struck a working bargain that included both elements, whose upper limit was my predetermined budget for transportation today.
My enterprising driver quite enjoyed the to
and fro, signaled that our agreement was fair; and we were on our way to South Goa, some 80 kilometres away, pausing, per our driver’s request at an emporium offering, jewels, pearls, diamonds and, carpets in silk and wool. We had assured our driver and the emporium manager, who must work this routine together, fair ball, that we were not in the market for any of their goodies. But, getting into their spirit, Penny sought an estimate for a silken carpet, 9ft by 12. It is 95,000 rupees or about three grand Canadian, not bad but I stared stonily, called out, “Penelope!” to Penny; and we were out of there, on our way to Colva beach, longest in Goa, 2nd longest in all of India, 22km. The longest is in the Chennai region.
Colva met the standards of a Caribbean beach, though not quite a those of a South African one, powdery white sand, brown wet sand, decent size waves, they have 22km of landfall to deal with, and most importantly surf, frothy surf. The sun was just about scaling the medium rise hills framing the beach if one looks landward. Temperatures, for those who have been asking, approach
30 celsius.
Lunch featured a Rock fish, a whole one, directly out of the sea before us, delivered by neighbourhood fishers to our shack of a restaurant cum bar; and brought to our table, dripping salted sea water, so we could choose it from among a tiny shark, a mackerel, a snapper and a pomfret, the latter seemingly native to these waters. The house recommended a crushed garlic, pan-fried treatment, with a full order of ginger shrimp as its forerunner. Our waiter staff presented it, 20 minutes later, in a large platter, garnished with a wide border of steamed green, yellow and mauve vegetables. We ate, contentedly, facing the gurgling surf; and gazing lazily at the meeting of sea and sky in the distance, from whence had come our delicious main meal of the day.
On the way to our 2nd beach we passed lush green rice paddies and lagoons with white and mauve water lotuses. The beach, Palolem, furthest south of the Goan beaches, was prettier though not as beautiful, if you see what I mean. It featured a number of inviting coves and offered a little island off one of its several bays. There were a
lot of beings wandering this playground, including a pack of dogs chasing a thoroughly amazed cow; nobody, challenges cows, which are sacred in these parts. The sides of the road leading to the beach form a permanent bazaar, in service of the crowds, which come here. Penny bought two sun hats, I indulged in fresh coconut water, whose fruit was picked from trees in an adjacent yard.
Presently, the time had come for our return to the train station, along a route that went uphill and down dale, through the mountains I had first seen from a distance on my way into Panaji. The terrain is well cultivated with cashew and other nut plantations and with spice gardens, and is heavily forested with hardwoods.
As we entered the valley that nestles the final small town before the train station, like a storm after our calm, we happened upon a scene of true traffic hell. Cars, motor bikes, big and small, trucks of various sizes, endangered pedestrians, all trying to negotiate their various and sundry paths through, around, out of and into what seemed like an uncontrolled six way intersection, with no lights, no stops signs and no traffic
Palolem Beach - Jan 19, 2006
Fishers bringing in their boat. circle, horns beeping and arms gesticulating; sheer chaos, unreal. Then, after some cool and collected maneuvering by our driver, it was over, it passed, and we were on our final approach to the station. As we traveled the last kilometer or so, he drew our attention to a development project in transportation management, that people here are proud of and to whose completion they are looking forward. It is half way through a 5 year plan, called a sky bus route, featuring an elevated structure that will allow vehicles to flyover small towns and villages, for distances of up to 30 or so kilometers, allowing traffic to go from one population center, directly to another, unimpeded by uncontrolled or controlled intersections in small towns. This investment, in engineering mass transportation solutions, is indicative of progress in the technologically advancing new India, hard-by the old.
And so we settled the taxi bill for the day with a satisfied driver who proffered his business card. We were happy, having done a full and engaging tour of the southern part of the state. In the event, we walked into the hands of another little man asking if he could “carry our load”,
and onto the Cochin-bound train, on which I have just woken up to the chant of “chi…. ah”; chi….ah”, an offer of, chai: warm milk, sugar, a little hot water and tea, from the platform venders who board the train at each stop in the early morning. I must go sip some chai and see Kerela arrive.
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