Magical Goa: Part Uncs - Getting to Goa

Okay, Keefie, you asked for it, so here it is, the start of the Great Goan Adventure that ended with my sisters horrified, my brothers-in-law confused out of their wits and my nephew desperate to buy Playboy gear to impress his friends.

It all began with us going to Goa, as it must, of course. Since I don't know what comes before Part Ducks, this is Part Uncs. Deal with it.

We went in a Chevrolet Tavera. There were, let me see:

1. Me (from what I recall)
2. My sister Rashmi, who's been in the USA since she got married in 1992 or thereabouts
3. Vivek, Rashmi's son, all of 11
4. Savita, my other sister, also now in the USA
5. Sean, Savita's hubby, whom I met for the first time. He's a stage actor and well, you can guess what we discussed at every opportunity
6. Neesha, our cousin, whose presence in the Morris sister mix produces a strain of dynamite that makes Sir Nobel's concoction seem pretty tame in comparison
7. Salvi, our driver, who wondered why my brother in law was calling to him so affectionately during the trip, since Sean's pronunciation of "Salvi" and "Savi" (his affectionate term for his wife, my sister Savita) was identical

The journey began with a lot of luggage-strapping and stuff. Vivek took pictures that he refuses to share. About four hours after the time we had decided to take off, we took off.

All would have been fine but for Vivek's excitement at seeing bullock-carts, women carrying pots of water on their heads, swaying their hips to keep in balance (routine stuff, you know, but he's eleven) and so on. Vivek threatened to have us all crash into various stuff that randomly appears on Indian roads by launching himself as close to the front windshield as possible to take a picture but Salvi was adept and kept us all alive.

We had lunch at Satara. The local chicken dish is not to be missed. I forget the name but just ask the waiter for the best chicken dish and you'll get it.

Sean asked for the washroom and got directed to the wash basin. He was looking around, wondering if he was supposed to do the nasty in public, when I, having heard him, asked for the bathroom and guided him and Vivek to the appropriately shaded and sheltered spot. After we had all washed our hands, we sat down to an excellent lunch.

Moving on, we turned right at Kolhapur and got all our lunch digested by the simple expedient of bouncing up and down in the car, thanks to the excellent stretch of exercise road between Kolhapur and Goa. We were grateful to have experienced Moon surface travel right here on earth. Not to mention digesting our lunches without having to walk.

We got to Goa and got lost.

We wanted to go to Bagha.

Everyone we asked pointed out a different road. Apparently, the code in Goa is, "If you don't know, point to the nearest lane." Keep this in mind, it will feature in a later post.

We finally got to Bagha and Neesha got the resort that we had booked with on the line. They sent a pilot to guide us to the resort. The pilot took us through increasingly convoluted lanes (this was a Tavera we were in, mind you, with pilot on a scooter) to proudly show us an apartment block - the "resort".

It took some doing and plenty of expertise on Salvi's part but we exited. Pretty darn quick.

Long story short, we found an excellent resort on the main Bagha road and settled in. It's the Ronil Beach Resort. Keep the name in mind, it plays a major part in the "Adventure of the Penultimate Day in Goa", soon to be available in blogback.

We dined at a nearby restaurant and turned in. King's beer had flowed. We were tuckered.

End of day 1.

Deepak