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Published: December 8th 2009
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So we'd spent a week living the holiday dream in Goa. Ok, so maybe not a dream exactly - what with all the viruses and stomach upsets, was more of a nightmare. After
Theo left, Rach's insides took a turn for the worst so we did what Skip and other friends had suggested doing - booking into a swanky resort hotel with aircon and riding it out in comfort. You really can't put a price on health. Mariketty, the Greek restaurant owner who'd befriended us during the freak cyclone chef's table, sent one of her boys to reserve us a room at a posh hotel - and it WAS nice, and soon we were both feeling back on track and ready to experience again. We
didn't stay at the posh place for long - we spent over £100 in two days which may not sound like much but when you're normally on a tenner a day (and a tight-wad like me), we had to find somewhere else. Mariketty appeared to have the ideal solution - booking into one of her clifftop restaurant's beach shacks and hanging out with her staff all day. And it was perfect - until we went to
bed and realised that beach shacks aren't soundproof and we lay listening to the chorus of clattering pans, laughing guests, and coughing security guards.
All this moving around was now becoming tedious and frustrating - we were planning in staying in Goa for a month to do some volunteering so it made sense to find something more permanent, so we spent a day looking at a range of rental homes. It was quite amazing to see the range of quality and prices - which didn't seem to have any link together! The last place we went to see was a brand new studio flat built above an Internet cafe/school in a little village, for about £5 a night. It was perfect so we said yes on the spot and moved in that night. Sat on the balcony that evening, we listened out to hear... the blissful sound of nothing :-)
We are now settled in a friendly village, saying Hello to everyone when we walk around, nipping into the French bakery next door every morning (and it IS proper French, the chocolate croissants are to die for!), and having locals dogs popping their heads into our front room.
One evening
I heard chanting and the Tabla playing in the distance, so I went out to follow the sound to investigate. After ten minutes walk, I arrived at a deafeningly loud temple where four disco loudspeakers were placed facing outward toward the village. Inside the temple were six old men, some singing and the rest on instruments. Although I was discrete in my nosiness, a local who was wandering past saw me, and took my by the arm to come and sit in the temple to enjoy the concert. It was much more fun than what I remember singing at church to be like! I even got fed at the end - a burning hot battered capsicum and sticky sweet rice for desert :-)
Our friend Chris (EFH) popped over from Bangalore for the weekend and we took him and his workmate Glenn out to Liliput for some drinks. It was strange to see that for someone who'd been in India for as long as us, he looked less tanned than when we'd last seen him in England! Turns out that Bangalore is the wettest city in India and it rains or is grey there most days :-(
We proceded to then get very drunk and be merry with our
friends the Vets and the Norweigan dog walkers who joined us.
We took Chris to Nine Bar, one of Goa's open air clubs, for an evening of Goan/Psy Trance. Glenn found it "interesting", but left around 8 which left us two hours for EFH to come out of his box. Rach made friends with a half naked old man who told us his name was Moses, he certainly looked the dusty, Christian type. He told us that Acid and 5 hours dancing a day was the key. I spent a watchful eye for the rest of the evening ensuring that he didn't get too excited and try to part the Red Sea....
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